#some of you fuckers…. I want to share a joint with you so bad or pass you my bong

[blowflyfag]

I literally wish I was all my mutuals plug so bad I wanna be the weed man in your lives like I’d make you all lil care packages n shit

[non-un-topo]

Genderqueer/trans/nb/butch/otherwise gender-fuckery friends, what’s a moment of gender euphoria you’ve experienced that you’re willing to share? I feel like I need to share in some queer happiness today <3

[izzyliker]

to me the fact that ed & izzy have yet to interact post ep2 is paradoxically a testament to their closeness and intimacy because like how the fuck do you come back from that? the things they said to each other? the total severance of trust there? ed is trying to make amends with the crew, minus izzy. izzy is getting close with the crew, but doesn’t get near ed. it’s a painful, agonizing divorce with your kids caught in the middle. what are you going to say about it? when it’s so all encompassing that you can’t even put it into words? why would you? it’s everywhere and just carrying it with you is exhausting enough. what’s the point? there’s a passive voice throughout it. the absence of creates a vacuum. you double down on what’s left. what even are you. can’t even do your job right. take it out on the closest proxy you can find. he’s there but he’s inside of you. now you’re the active agent. edward ceases to exist completely outside of desperate outbursts. move on or die. ed doesn’t even acknowledge izzy’s existence though he must know he’s still there. what is he going to say? sorry izzy. sorry i shot you. sorry i ordered you killed. sorry i mutilated you and sorry i’m the reason you lost your leg. you have to say more after it. do you have the mental bandwidth to say those things? the necessary things? i loved you. i love you. you’re izzy to me. just izzy. you’re my friend. it was a joint effort in some ways, in many ways, im sorry it got so bad. i was so cruel to you because i loved you the most. i trusted you the most. you were there the most. you wouldn’t run away, indestructible little fucker. we kept hurting each other so much it became second nature for both of us. i went too far. i didn’t think you’d stay long enough for it to happen. i didn’t know how to stop myself. i didn’t want to stop myself. i wanted to die. everyone else is a united front with a shared picture of ed, except for stede, izzy, and lucius. lucius is angry. he avoids ed out of anger, out of fear, out of fury. but izzy just - with ed, he doesn’t. why bring him up. this complete severance leaves behind a gaping hole in the narrative. how do we fill up an absence so profound? you can’t un-sever a leg. izzy can’t un-tell ed to kill himself. ed can’t un-tell izzy to kill himself. what the fuck are you supposed to do with the fucking hole? you can’t make it go away without acknowledging it, and you have to want to do it. in a way the hole is comfortable - a clean edge, a vast darkness. gaping maw. you can’t go around it. you can’t go in. it’s free fall from there. but at least there’s nothing covering it. you know it’s there. at some point you get so used to it it disappears completely. move on or die. a shark took my leg. i took a man’s leg. the hole is there. you see it in the horizon and you turn around and then you keep walking.

[imaslutforremusandsirius]

Tease

Wanted to try a male reader for once and i really enjoyed writing this :) One of my favs dare I say. Have fun!

Warning: 18+

---

„You said you didn‘t want it!“ Sirius exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defense when you threw the empty chocolate pack at him.

„I was being polite!“ You protested, „Posh boys like you should know that!“

Sirius‘ eyes narrowed and he threw the pack at your head this time. „I am not a posh boy, fucker. You better fucking kiss my feet or I will-“

You tackled him with a cry, hitting his face repeatedly with a pillow. Your body jerked on top of his rhythmically, which either meant that he was laughing or chocking to death. And you really hoped it be the latter.

„Don‘t you fucking dare asshole! You promised not to bring it up!“

His next words came out muffled from underneath the soft fabric, which began to feel not so soft, considering that you were pressing pretty hard. Sirius started to panic and yelled out a „Help! Help! I‘m dying!“

You felt strong arms wrap around your stomach and drag you away from your murder mission.

„Let me go! He needs to die!“

James was laughing so hard at Sirius‘ horrified face that even he had trouble keeping you at bay.

„This is bullying! I‘ll tell Minnie! You fucking lutanic!“

„Minnie doesn‘t care about your sob story, she would be delighted to find out I killed you before she could with all of your missing homework!“

Sirius barreled towards you with a battle cry, but James threw you to the side, effectively blocking the tackle with his body. Sirius must have aimed to hurt you a little, because James fell down with an painfully loud thud.

„Bloody hell, Pads. That bloody hurt.“ James groaned, rubbing his ribs soothingly.

Sirius scrambled up and helped his friend off the ground, throwing you a dark look. You sneered at him, sitting down on the bed farthest away. James grinned at his friend, mouth opening to make fun of him.

„How could he hold you down like that? He‘s smaller than you!“

Sirius huffed, blushing a little with embarrassment and he turned away, presumably to hide his red cheeks. „He had an advantage. I was being strangled, mind you.“

„Strangled my ass“ you said under your breath and crossed your arms petulantly. „He made fun of me. Again!“

James raised a brow in amusement, eyes flickering towards you and you groaned when you saw his expression. Here we go.

„Is it about a certain wolf?“

Sirius turned around so fast you heard his ankles crack and moved to stand next to his friend, delighted to have him at his side and chuckled. Your scowl darkened and you got up, trying to push though your friends to leave.

„Fuck off, both of you. I‘m leaving.“

Sirius stopped laughing and raised his hands in defeat. „Oh come on, don‘t be ridiculous, we‘re only taking a piss mate.“

Your mouth fell open to hurl more curses at him when you saw Remus appear behind the two boys and clamped your mouth shut again. Fuck, was your hair alright? You secretly smoothed it over, glaring at James when he wiggled his brows suggestively.

„Alright, everyone?“ Remus asked, voice exhausted and he fell down next to you on the bed, sighing with relief when his aching joints didn‘t have to carry his weight anymore. The moon was taking a toll on him.

„Are you alright?“ Your voice came out worried and you stroked through his messy curls. Remus only let out a tired „Mhm“ as he sank down further into the mattress, pressing into your hand.

„Is it the moon?“

„Mhm.“

„Are you hurting already?“

Sirius chimed in from his bed. „I think it‘s safe to say that the old man is always hurting.“

You glared at him. „Shut up, Black. No one asked you.“

Sirius huffed and turned his back towards you with a dramatic toss of his dark hair, pulling his curtains closed.

This time James spoke up, peaking his head from the corner of the bathroom door. Some of his toothpaste spilled over when he opened his mouth and you grimaced at the disgusting sight. James and Sirius seemed to share one braincell. A part-time braincell, that was clearly rusty at this point from being so rarely used.

„Need anything?“

Remus jerked, clearing jostled awake from his little slumber and groaned in annoyance. „Peace and quiet. Oh wait, that‘s death.“

You couldn‘t help the snort that escaped you at his deadpanned tone and whacked him on the head. Remus cracked an eye open and smiled at your amusement. You schooled your expression and held your hand up in a mock salute.

„No one is dying. And if, then we‘ll do it together.“

There was a series of Amen‘s and you nodded in satisfaction, like a general who never liked being told no. Already dressed in your pajamas, or actually only your pajama pants, you crawled into your own bed, across from Remus‘. You wished that Remus would have clasped your wrist and made you stay, he did that sometimes, but alas it was just a wish. You had it bad for the boy, fingers still tingling with the feel of his hair. You thought about what it would be like to kiss him, to touch his scars and feel his breath on your face when you slept.

You huffed frustratedly when your brain forced stupid scenarios into your mind. Fuck, were they nice ones at that.

No, he isn‘t gay, brain! Fucking stop with the mental images!

Your brain decided to one up itself and showed you a very suggestive image of Remus on his knees, sucking your dick with such contentment it made your breath hitch.

Fuck.

Or Remus on his hands and knees, every little detail of his body on display, making such lovely keening noises you thought you had died for sure.

Oh fuck.

You opened you eyes instantly to stop the dirty thoughts of your best mate, mind you, and tried to calm your breathing. Apparently, meditation is a hoax, because no matter how many sheeps you counted or deep breaths you took, your brain was still convinced that Remus sucking you off was the hottest thing ever. And it is the hottest thing ever, you agreed. So did your raging boner.

Only this once.

Against your better judgement your hand trailed down your chest towards your pants, slipping under the waistband of your underwear. Your hand wrapped around your hard cock and imagined Remus on top of you, kissing your lips feverishly. Groaning and moaning into your mouth, telling you how good you feel around him. Telling you how long he had waited for this moment. Biting your lip you moved faster, stifling your groans when your palm spread your precum over the sensitive tip. You were so close, head thrown back in pleasure, fuck so close so clo-

„Shit sorry!“

Somehow you managed to pick up a shocked gasp through your trance and your eyes opened wide, jerking violently. And here he was, the source of your inescapable desire. Remus fucking Lupin. Who just caught you wanking. Your brain has meanwhile decided to pack its suitcase and piss off, because suddenly you couldn't produce a single clear sentence. It felt like being a baby all over again, not knowing how to use your voice or twists your tongue to get the right words out. Not that there was anything to say, you couldn’t just pretend like you weren’t touching yourself.So, you just stare at him like a moron, your hand still in your fucking pants. Slowly but surely you felt your face heat up and you didn't even dare to breathe loudly, too scared to scare Remus away.

His eyes were fixed on your hand, teeth biting his lip. Not knowing what to do, he apparently decided to just stand there. The curtains of your bed were gripped tightly in his fist, as if it were the only thing that kept him steady at the moment. The both of you stared at each other for a good minute, digesting the embarrassment of the situation until Remus climbed into your bed.

Wait. 

Alarm bells rang shrill in your head, the nerve cells in your skull burst into panic. 

Remus in your bed. 

Crawling between your legs. 

Your hand still in your pants. 

What.

„Let me help?“ Remus‘ voice was raspy, slightly scared that you‘ll reject him. He was seated between your knees now, wringing his scarred hands nervously. It took you a few seconds to register what he had said as you blinked at him in mortification. 

Remus hung his head, nodding to himself as if he had known that this would happen and moved away. Fuck, no come back. Brain! Say something!

Your brain was still hyperventilating however, so your legs decided to give you a hand, definitly under the order of your hard cock, which was already throbbing with excitement. You snap your legs shut, trapping Remus’ upper body between your thighs and pulled him on top of you. Not expecting the move, Remus fell forward and his lips smashed on yours.

Oh wow.

This was better than you expected. This exeeds all 638 fantasies you ever had of this moment. This was real.

You kissed for a while, both of you falling into each others arms to feel as close as possible, grinding your cocks on each other like horny teens. Which you were, to be precise. You moved your head to the side to break the kiss, grinning at Remus’ lust hazy expression and bucked your hips up again.

“I’ll have that help now, if you’re still offering...” You whispered, basking in the boyish grin of the wolf.

Moving to wipe your hand on your bedsheet to finally touch him, Remus caught your hand and brought it to his mouth. You whined quietly when you felt his tongue tickle your palm. Remus mmm‘d softly, a devilish glint twinkling in his bright eyes.

Lifting your hips, Remus pulled down your pants and you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch. Nothing in the world could keep your from branding the sight of Remus licking your cock into the depths of your mind. 

Remus leaned in, mouthing at the skin of your stomach, inching closer to your weeping tip. He took his time, breathing your scent in deeply, his eyes closed.

„Come on Moony“ you urged, lifting your hips. Remus held you down, smirking up at you teasingly.

„Either you let me go in my own pace or you can suck it yourself.“

You immediately stilled and made a motion of locking your lips with an imaginary key. Remus chuckled soundlessly and you nearly, nearly, bucked your hips up again. His mouth was so hot and wet and god it was really Remus sucking your cock. The thought alone made you shudder and writhe under him, your hands burried in his curls. Remus may not know much about blowjobs, but he made up for it with his enthusiasm. His moan was just filthy, the way he looked at you through his eyelashes as if he just wanted to devour you, to break you into pieces.

“Oh Remus” you groaned into your fist, knuckles white from gripping his hair so tightly, “Wait ah fuck please wait!”

Remus rolled his eyes and pulled away, raising his brow at you. His facial expression was something akin to “How dare you interrupt me?” 

You took deep breaths to hold yourself from cumming when he smeared the tip of your cock against his glistening lips, coating himself in your cum while he glared at you. This boy is sin.

“Wanna cum with you” you explained breathlessly, pulling him up to smash your lips on his. Remus groaned low in his throat when you sucked his lips, moving to straddle your lap. The rough fabric of his pants made you snort contemptuously and you tugged at the waistband, mumbling an annoyed “Off.”

Remus seemed to agree, with the way he nearly ripped the zipper clean off and finally he was naked. Not fully, but you let him be, knowing he’d be insecure about his scars. You’ll work on that next time. Next time.

Remus placed his hands on his thighs, letting you admire his body. His confidence shot up by the way your breathing got heavier and your cock twitched under his. Every millimeter of your skin is touching, both of you slowly rocking your cocks against the other. Your cum mixed and made it easier to move and you took them in your hands, a huge breath escaping your lips with the sudden rush of electricity. Remus quickly casted a silencing charm and gave into the pleasure, setting a fast pace by thrusting his cock in your fist.

“Fuck you feel so good” Remus groaned and squeezed your wrists, “I’ve wanted this for so long”

You nearly laughed by how ridiculously acurate your fantasies had been and gripped harder, crying out when Remus leaned down to bite your shoulder hard, leaving imprints of his teeth on your flesh.

“’M’not gonna la- oh Moony fuck” You were lost in your pleasure, already sensitive with your denied orgasm from before. Remus slapped your hand away and spit on your cocks, taking them in his hands this time. His pace was aggressive and impatient, hand unyielding and he rocked his hips as fast as he could. 

“Want you to cum on my cock” Remus grunted, his other hand gripping your jaw to look into your eyes. His pupils were blown out, as if he was on a high. You felt him pulse against you, his eyes screwd shut and he came with a loud cry, making you tip over the edge as well. His hand kept going, thighs holding you down when you tried to squirm away. 

Bringing his cum covered hand to his mouth, Remus gave it a tentative lick, eyes fluttering shut when his tongue wrapped around his fingers. You watched him hum around his hand and he gave you a satisfied smile, totally in bliss with your little session.

“This was fucking hot” Remus grinned and fell down next to you, blinking at you tiredly.

You bit your lip and mustered up enough courage to squeak out a “So you’re gay?” 

Remus gave you a flat look. “I came on your cock didn’t I?”

You cleared your throat and laughed quietly. “Yeah. Yeah you did.” Your voice came out dreamy and you threw your leg over his middle.

And just like that you surrendered to your exhaustion, while Sirius and James were hysterical with exicetment. Their shared braincell was activated and currently made it its mission to come up with ways to catch you next time. Embarassing you was their thing after all.

[nohoney]

Tell Me (When You’re Ready) - 4.1

notes: Part 4 of the Us Series also on ao3

Us Series Masterlist

warnings: 18+, drug use, polyamory, low key manipulation, toxic relationships, cheating

summary:

He’s never been involved with anyone else the way he’s been with you, you’re all he thinks about and wants to have. It’s more than just liking you, this instinct to care for you, this obsession and desire he feels over you, he calls it love, it must be love. 

4.1 ✧ 4.2 ✧ 4.3 ✧ 4.4

At first glance, Touya didn’t really think much of you the first time he had seen you.

You were just another random party goer to him, one of many he saw whenever he attended those kinds of things, easier to just sell to his clientele if they conglomerated in these kinds of functions, though with the slightly older ones they have to blend in better since they’re technically crashing a house party. University students, upcoming freshmeat, recently graduated alumni and some of their plus ones or more, it’s so easy to tell who the veterans are versus the greenhorns.

The ones who can hold themselves together versus the ones that need to be carried, the ones who can hold there liquor versus the ones that need to be babysat, the strong versus the weak.

And you were that in between, walking around cross faded with eyes that looked lost in space but when someone put a hand on your shoulder then you would come back to earth, but not with your feet touching the ground. Like your feet just barely skimming the surface but still wanting to float in the sky, streaming through a pleasant haze just a bit longer until the high ends and you’ll have no choice until it’s time to walk amongst the animals again.

You sat on the couch with a few girls, talking amongst themselves and no doubt grouped together to protect one another from the predators; who could resist drunk and weak girls, especially the ones who looked the most broken. The eyes of the boys on your group and hoping to try to break into the circle and pick off the weakest to break away the pack. They get especially eager when the group wants to drink more, but you and two friends decide to go outside to smoke a joint instead.

“I’m drunk, I need’a go outside.”

The first words he ever heard you say, though not the first he’s heard but it sounded cute the way you slurred them out.

His eyes followed you briefly, holding hands with a friend as you made your way to get to the outside for a smoke.

“Yo Dabi! Good to see you man!”

He passed discreet little baggies, pink and blue tablets, little pills, he always gets a pat on the back from the boys and winks from the girls.

The girls like him, more than a few offering a little something extra when he makes a successful sale. Two of his whores are at this party, the decent flings he goes back to every so often when he wants to get his dick wet and when they want his goods.

Good dick and good drugs, it’s nice to get a two for one sale.

The second time he sees you at the party, he’s just leaving a room and fixing his belt while you sit at the top of the stairs with a friend. You and your friend are engrossed in your conversation, more than likely a similar talk happening somewhere inside the house party because you talked about your regrets of the way you and your ex broke it off, just more drunk girl talk. “It was so… so fuckin’ stupid dude, I was drunk and he showed up. We fucked but whe’ I woke up the next day, I fuckin’ left and just didn’t talk to him again.”

The second thing he ever heard you say but Touya literally passed by three girls half an hour ago that had a similar conversation, yours was nothing special.

Touya always denies drinks, offers of lines and other things when he goes to these kinds of functions, he needs a clear mind when he deals. He’s not dumb as fuck when he’s high or when he’s on, he can handle himself quite well and could sell just as well even if he were, he just doesn’t want to be relaxed around people that he doesn’t know that well or trust. It would have been nice if Keigo tagged along but the fucker’s Adderall hadn’t worn off in time to accompany him. Keigo gives him a good break from the others, kinda resets him and then he goes back to his business.

But Keigo isn’t around so Touya settles for plowing girls in random rooms of the house to give him a brief recess and then he’s back out there.

The third time he sees you, you’re leaning against the body of a young man just a little taller than Touya but nothing in the way he holds you shows that he has any ill intentions towards you. It feels rare sometimes to see two people having a platonic friendship, especially between two people of the opposite sex. Touya’s already sold your friend whatever he wanted but sticks around to make conversation, though it’s an excuse because he can’t help but note the way you’re being held in your friend’s arms. He tries to not make it obvious as he talks but truthfully, Touya wanted to just look at you. It’s obvious that there’s nothing romantic in the way your friend holds you but for some reason, it doesn’t sit well with him.

Even with his eyes up on your friend, he can see how you cling to your friend’s body with your arms wrapped around him so securely and with so much trust. Touya notes how you’re practically purring as your friend pets your head, sometimes massaging the tips of his fingertips against your scalp and then rubbing your shoulder in comfort. And he can see how you peeked up at him a few times, your curious eyes on him but Touya recognizes the cloudy way you look up at him. It’s not out of interest in the way you looked at him but probably just wondering why he was around.

Eventually you stop looking at him and choose to shut your eyes, concentrating on your friend petting your head instead.

“You want to try anything (Name)? Dabi’s got the best shit I’ve ever had, pretty fucking primo.” your friend had offered but you shook your head and said no. And goddamn if it wasn’t the cutest no that Touya’s ever heard in his life, the third thing he's ever heard you say. “Girl’s been pretty curious about wanting to try coke but she hasn’t worked up the nerve to actually give it a try. You know what, lemme buy a half off you too and maybe this’ll be the night that she finally gives it a try.”

Touya went home wondering if you lost your cocaine virginity that night.

That question wouldn’t be answered until a couple month’s later after you and him shared a philosophy class together. Touya remembered you very clearly but for some reason, his gut twists a little when you spoke to him the first time and it’s clear that you didn’t remember him from the party. He decides to forgive you for not remembering him because he feels like he can’t stay mad at you, not with that cute face you have.

But it’s just like at the party, you don’t seem particularly interested in him but Touya’s interested in you so he decides to seek you out more. He starts to crave your attention but he doesn’t want to look like a fool if it’s a one-sided attraction so he lays the charm on you, calls you pretty names that he’s never used on other girls. At first Touya thinks that you can just be girl number nine, hopefully another easy hole for him to use when he has an itch to scratch.

Now Touya’s fucked a lot of girls. He’s taken innocent girls virginities before and he’s had some pretty wild sex with the campus sluts, but there’s something different about you. You’re not a prude, not in the way you flirt back and insinuate wanting to take a seat on his face sometimes, but you’ve got some untouched parts of you that he wanted to lay a claim on. He’d show you new things and hold your hand over what you’d be too scared to do on your own or with others, he’ll watch over you. Imagine his giddiness the first time he ever cut lines of coke for you, it turned out that your cocaine virginity belonged to him this entire time.

"Oh... it's not that bad!"

You took that line so good, how about you take my cock next?

You tease him, playing coy one moment and then acting like nothing happened next.

And normally with bitches that do that shit with him for too long, Touya drops them pretty fast and moves on to the next. A little flirting and teasing is fine but he’s not looking to play a long term game with that kind of bullshit, it’s either happening or it’s not.

But with you it’s different.

You’re different.

Touya starts to obsess over you so slowly that he doesn’t even recognize it at first. All he knows is that he has to have you, he ghosts four of his whores in favor of being with you even though there wasn’t a guarantee that he would get in your pants. He just dropped the ones that he sought for sex only, the other half are still his clientele so he keeps those ones around, plus they're still decent lays. Keigo notices it, the way his friend talks over some girl that he hasn’t even fucked yet and letting go of four of his side whores has him thinking, ‘Wow, she must be something to get Touya’s attention this bad.’

The semester starts to come to an end and he still hasn’t bagged you yet, he calls you his doll but you haven’t let him play with you. He places one of his whores face down and ass up after she does a few lines, imagines that it’s you underneath him and what you might sound like and its your ass he’s grabbing. Touya can imagine it, you weak underneath him and begging for his cock but when the bitch under him whines out ‘Dabi’, he almost loses his boner. He tells her to shut the fuck up and bite the pillow, doesn’t want to hear her stupid sounds because he wants to envision you instead.

But even imagining you calling him Dabi feels wrong, Touya rolling off your pretty lips as he paints your insides white… it blows him over the edge.

In his mind that’s what he wants, but you don’t get the right to call him by his real name. He doesn’t know you like that so you’re just like everyone else for now, referring to him as Dabi. At some point he figures that this fixation he has on you will burn out soon. And yet Touya finds himself drawn further to you, wanting you more and more, doesn’t want you to wander too far away from him and wants to know who you’re with when he’s not by your side.

And he wanted to fuck you too, so fucking bad.

His first try was with a night cap at his place, the first time Touya ever had a girl over in his space. But it seems you know your limitation on alcohol and don’t let him pour you an extra drop, wanting to be able to drive yourself home and be in decent shape for your lectures. He smokes you up one day and it goes in a good direction, you were relaxed and sending him some good signals that lead to the two of you making out. It didn’t go further because he got a phone call from his mother that he couldn’t possibly ignore, but you thought ‘Oh a mama’s boy, that’s so sweet.’

It’s the third time that he finally gets you, playing music in his car that gets you in the mood and that gets you naked in his backseat. He doesn’t know what made you ready all of a sudden but he didn’t stop to ask as you fervently sucked him off. You were more riled up than him, so excited to get his dick and that eager look in your eye when you commanded him to blow your back out. And he sure did not disappoint, he never disappoints when it comes to his dick.

And a relationship persists forward to the surprise of both of you, liking each other more than you thought you would but there were no labels yet, Touya wasn’t used to having a girlfriend so he didn’t want to call you that at first and you weren’t sure if you wanted him to be your boyfriend. Neither of you really spoke about what you were to one another despite the attraction and the lazy build of emotions that neither of you were aware of in the beginning. All Touya knew was that he wanted you to be around him more and be waiting for him when he returned back to his apartment.

It’s difficult to say when mutual attraction turned into the of you catching feelings for one another. You and Touya were hooking up for a couple of weeks after the end of the semester of the one class you shared together, and while he was aware that you were a little disgruntled at him fucking the girls he sells to, he didn’t think it was that big of a deal at the time. Didn’t he make it obvious that you’re different from them and that he only cared about you? So what if he got his dick wet from other girls aside from you? He’d been doing it before he started seeing you but he always came back to you afterwards, so why were you so pissed?

“It’s just business doll.”

It wasn’t official between the two of you yet so there wasn’t much you could say at the time. You just figured that if Touya liked you so much then he would stop and Touya figured that since you liked him just as much then you would understand.

But Touya remembers that night when he left to go sell at another house party, trying to spend time with you before he had to leave but you wouldn’t let him. He knew you were mad again because he just came back from selling to one of his whores which meant that, ‘Yes, she offered her pussy when I got there so we fucked.’ He honestly did not understand where your jealousy was coming from. You were there, sitting in his apartment and spending nights in his bed, he was doing shit with you that he’d never done with anyone else and you were still getting mad at him.

How did you not get that you were different from the rest of them?

But Touya wasn’t going to put more effort into making you feel better when you didn’t want to be cheered up, so he left to do his usual thing.

And when he came back to his apartment earlier than expected, which was only one in the morning, he found that your car was not in the guest parking and therefore you were not waiting for him inside his home. He tried ringing you to find out if you went back to your place but it went straight to voicemail so he goes to your home in hopes that you would have been there instead. But you’re not there when he arrives and you don’t answer his texts and phone calls still don’t go through."Fucking bitch! Where the hell are you?"

Touya can stay up until three in the morning at most if he’s not on anything but that night was the only night he had ever stayed up by just being angry alone. He was riled up and emotions all over the place, hands shaking so bad that he needed to punch something, almost considered putting his fist through his wall. He was fucking furious because he knows immediately that you went out to be with someone else, went to get fucked by some scum because you wanted to be a vindictive little cunt about what happened earlier.

He had practically barged into Keigo’s place and shook him awake in his bed because he didn’t know who to turn to.

“She’s out getting fucked. I fucking know she is!”

“Wha-? Touya…” Keigo groggily sat up in his bed and brushed off Touya's hands off his shoulders, blonde hair a mess from tossing and turning but he gives his friend his undivided attention. He hadn’t met you yet, had only seen pictures and nudes of you that Touya shared with him, but he’s pretty shocked over how outraged Touya is. He’d never seen his friend get so worked up over one girl before, so it speaks volumes to him to see Touya so unhinged. “What makes you say that? Maybe she’s out with friends or something. Just because she’s not back in her place doesn’t mean that she’s getting with another dude.”

But Touya’s gut said otherwise and he insisted that it was right.

“Okay man, I’m going to put some things in perspective for you. I don’t know this girl but it’s obvious that you’re into her… like a lot, but I can’t really blame her for going out to be with someone else if that’s what she’s doing right now. She can still go do what she wants just as much as you can. If you guys haven’t defined what you are to one another, especially with how you operate, then you don’t have much of a right to be telling her what to do.”

Touya was livid when you returned to your apartment, angry that you had the audacity to be so spiteful with him and furious at the thought of you underneath someone that wasn’t him. It fucking hurt him because he didn’t fuck the whores to make you angry, they didn’t mean anything to him compared to you. But in the aftermath of hatefucking turning into lovemaking, he still mulled over Keigo’s advice, deciding that maybe it would make you happy to call you his girlfriend if it meant that you wouldn’t go behind his back again. You're his favorite, his number one, his only one, if reassuring is what he has to do then he'll put up with it as long as he doesn't have to say it too often. And fine, if it really bugged you that much then he decided to make it fair by giving you permission to sleep with who you wanted provided that you always came back to him the same that he did with you.

Except that after he put it out there, he immediately regretted putting the offer out but knew that a fight would surely begin if he decided to take it back. Once again the thought of you being with someone else had got his teeth grinding and gave him anxiety. You’re his fucking girl, his precious doll that deserved to be put on a throne and be given whatever you wanted. Touya wanted nothing more than to protect you from assholes who didn’t appreciate you like your dumbass ex-boyfriend.

“(Name)’s really great, I’m glad the two of you are together. Though are you sure you’re okay with her seeing other guys too? I know you said it to be fair to her but I see you get bent out of shape if she’s even around just one of her guy friends.” Keigo puffed on cigarette, tapping some of the excess ash off the tip before returning the filter to his lips. “You really going to be okay if she decides to get picked up by another dude?”

Touya let out a frustrated sigh as he lit his third cigarette in a row; you’d be pissed if you found out but he was fortunate that you would be out for a few hours so he had time to clean away the evidence. “They’re gonna treat her like shit, I know the assholes out there would but if I take it back, she’s going to get pissed. She didn’t even fucking apologize for fucking someone else behind my back. I don’t want her to be used by someone else, she’s not a whore.”

“Correction, you mean she’s your whore.”

The only one who understood his way of thinking was Keigo.

There’s a night where you sleep in your own apartment while Touya and Keigo sit outside your complex, leaning against his car and just looking at the balcony that they know is attached to your place. A six pack of beer sits on the hood of the car, two slots empty as they each hold a bottle in their hand. Keigo quietly admits to him, “I think I might like (Name) Touya. Like I think I like her a lot, more than just wanting to fuck her and more than just as a friend.”

Touya quietly takes in Keigo’s confession and just nods his head, still looking up at your balcony and hoping that you’re sleeping well. He’s never been involved with anyone else the way he’s been with you, you’re all he thinks about and wants to have. It’s more than just liking you, this instinct to care for you, this obsession and desire he feels over you, he calls it love, it must be love. He hesitantly admits back, “… I think I love her.”

“Wow…”

“Yeah, wow…”

“You really think you love her?” Keigo asked after polishing off his first beer. “What about that whole arrangement thing? If you tell her you love her, she might question you since, you know, you’re still fucking other girls. If you love her then she’ll expect you to be monogamous with her.”

“If she still takes me up on that arrangement, I don’t think I can handle it. Only people who love her should be allowed to fuck her.” In other words, only he should be the only one to have you. No one else loves you like Touya does, he’ll fucking kill any asshole that thinks they can use you as their fucktoy. When Keigo asks again about the other girls, he growls at him and tosses his bottle onto the concrete. “I’m fucking working on that, alright. I just… don’t know how to fucking commit. It’s too fucking hard to do this by myself.”

Keigo just pops the cap off another bottle and hands it to Touya. “Would it help if I joined the relationship? I’m sure we can work something out with (Name), provided she’s willing.”

Touya would observe you and Keigo together, you oblivious to his friend’s flirtations at times and mistaking it as him just being very friendly. He could see golden eyes wandering down your body, already knowing what you looked like without any clothes and how pretty you look when you’re gagging on a dick because Touya’s shown him your nudes and recorded videos of you. Keigo can try to hide and put up a front that he’s just lusting over you but Touya can see that his friend has got that little lovestruck glint in his eyes when he looks at you; and honestly, he’s not even upset about it. The vision of you and Keigo together, it makes him comfortable rather than the anxiety he feels when he thinks about you with someone else. They obsess over you together, you blissfully unaware of how tortured Keigo was sometimes that he couldn’t plow his cock into you because you saw him as just a friend.

So he takes up Keigo's offer.

He was hoping that the transition to introduce Keigo into the relationship would go smoother, but it only comes up after a fight when he brings you with him to a house party for the first time.

God, Touya didn’t mean what he said to you that night when you and Keigo rolled together; he was just frustrated because he didn’t know what he could do to show you that you meant more to him than you knew. No matter how much he reassured you, you kept on letting your stupid insecurities get in the way!

“C’mon man, one minute you’re telling me you love her and now all of a sudden you’re breaking up with her?” Keigo scolds him, unaware that you leave the both of them behind and duck into the house.

“I’m not trying to break up with her! I’m just— fuck, she just doesn’t get that… fuck!”

He’s at a loss of words, he doesn’t want to be mad at you but you couldn’t get over your hangups over the side whores. They weren’t his other girlfriends, not his side bitches, or anything like that. Touya literally only sees them for probably twenty minutes max on the occasion they hit him up, nothing compared to all the time dedicated to you. They can claw at his dick however much they want, that’s all they want from him anyway aside from the pills and powders he sells to them. If it gets them to shut up then fine, but Touya will never spend a second longer with them when he’s finished using them. He doesn’t give a fuck if they whine about not cumming, he never promised them an orgasm when he gives the whores his cock.

He obsesses over you, not them; he cares for you, not them; he only wants you, not them.

Stop being jealous, it's just you!

Keigo finally talks him down but they realize that you’re not around.

Touya searches the outside perimeter of the house while Keigo searches inside. You’re rolling, barely able to take care of yourself and they have no idea where you are. All the worst case scenarios run through his head like you wandering into the night and getting kidnapped, hit by a car while walking down the road, he wonders if you’re still at the house and possibly getting raped because you can’t fight back if someone forces themselves on you. He drives himself crazy with his own imagination and you won’t answer your fucking phone!

To his relief Keigo informs him that he found you locked inside one of the bedrooms, having mixed cocaine, ecstasy, and alcohol because you were upset about what happened. He’s a veteran, Touya’s mixed plenty of times within his boundaries of tolerance but you’ve never done it before so he worries instantly for your wellbeing. The only thing that he can think of what to do to help you is to bring you a fresh bottle of water, you’re probably dehydrated as hell.

He feels awkward as hell when he arrives to the room, standing off to the side as Keigo fusses over you. He’s able to comfort you with the right words in your state of mind, adding in kisses and sweet caresses to your body to help calm you, something that Touya feels unable to do at the moment. But Keigo fixes you up and nods for him to approach you, a little hurt that you whine for Keigo to stay.

But he has to admit his mistake, that he should have been more attentive to you when he brought you with him, even if he trusted Keigo to look over you the entire time. You’re upset, of course you’re upset with him, and he doesn’t want you to be mad at him anymore. So he decides to give you a right he should have bestowed to you a long time ago, you’re not allowed to call him Dabi anymore. It’s the only way he knows to make it up to you and show you that you’re important to him.

Don’t be mad at me anymore babydoll, I’m yours.

You’re a stubborn little thing at first, still insisting on calling him Dabi but he made you come around. His name falling from your lips just sounds so perfect, it sounds right as you choke up on pleasure and come undone with a scream of his name.

Touya imagines that night you went behind his back because you were mad at him, freezing for just a quick moment that you would do the same thing the next time you became angry with him, except now he had given you full permission. You hadn’t taken advantage of the arrangement and didn’t seek anyone out so far, he’s thankful for that, but he has to lock down Keigo into the relationship so that he can secure you.

Touya literally walked out of the house earlier to find you and Keigo making out, surely you can’t believe you can do that on ecstasy and still believe that everything is platonic. He has to put the truth out there, you deserve to know it, no one else would treat you so good like they would.

“He thinks you’re adorable. I talk about your pussy all the time with him. How fucking cute it is, how tight it gets when you get choked, and when you cum all over yourself. He wants to fuck you open so bad.”

“Touya, don’t say that! He’s just a friend!”

“A friend who wants to fuck you.”

He probably could have been more eloquent with his words but he gets his point across to you regardless.

“I gave you permission to fuck who you want doll, Keigo is not the worst person you could choose. In fact, I’d like it if he were the one to keep you warm for me.”

And he can see how realization hits you, Keigo further supporting the claim by coming onto you as well. What you used to perceive his actions as friendly, you thought otherwise now. It’s a truth that you can’t unlearn now that he’s put it out there, but he hopes that you fucking take the bait. If you reject Keigo coming into the relationship, he truly won’t be able to handle the possibility of you seeking someone else out.

He’d fucking go crazy.

That is not an exaggeration.

Everything goes smoothly though, you returning hand in hand with Keigo with that cute, embarrassed look on your face when you asked where the ‘proper threesome’ should take place. He doesn’t know what Keigo said to you or what you said to him in order to reach the desired conclusion but he doesn’t care, it doesn’t matter because he got what he wanted.

You’re right where Touya wants you.

It feels good to know that when he’s out, Keigo is there to be with you in his place.

Everything feels perfect when he’s with you, he won’t lose you to anyone, you’re so fucking good for him, so fucking loyal to him and Keigo that even when you have your own doubts, you fall in line with what he wants anyway. He knows what’s best for you, what you need and what you don’t need. You don’t have to worry about anything because you’re watched over and cared for. He cares for you all the time like when you’re drunk, high, rolling, cross faded, sick, depressed, and everything in between.

But admittedly there are moments when his own anxiety gets the best of him, sometimes Touya looks at you and suddenly wants to run to the hills. He pops a few oxys to try to calm him down sometimes but they’re not always effective. When the pills don’t help, he hopes one of the whores hits him up to ask for a pill or a baggy and he can pretend that he’s living his old life before you came along because that’s what he’s most familiar with. He thinks you’re too good to be true at times and he follows the instinct to self sabotage by still returning to the whores. And every single time without fail when he returns to you, he feels his chest constrict as soon as you’re in his sights.

It’s no secret to you when he goes out to see them, he comes back smelling like artificial fruit or sweet candy, and he sees how you bristle when he tries to come near you. You’re angry at him but choose to remain silent because it’s an argument that’s long exhausted, he feels guilty that he still can’t commit himself to you fully but swears that one day it will happen. One day he’ll defeat that monster inside him that tempts him to ruin everything he’s built with you. But until then, Touya wants to make it up to you every single time. Food and drinks are an easy way to placate you but his favorite is when you agree to house roll with him because no matter what you end up gravitating to him during the roll and lean on him during your come down.

Sensual make outs while on ecstasy when you’ve reached the peak and then comfortable silence during the come down as you wallow together in a brief period of depression, it’s when he feels the closest to you.

And you don’t know this because he hasn’t been ready to say anything, but he’s already told you that he loves you.

The first time he says it, it’s past the six month mark of the relationship and just a little after Keigo is inducted into it as well. Nothing special in particular had happened to make him say it, you went to bed early because you stayed up way too late the night before and you just needed the extra hours of rest. He smoked a joint to relax, hopped in the shower to clean up, and he tip toed quietly in the room to make sure he didn’t disturb you. You barely flinched as he turned on the light in the room, unaware at how much Touya stared down at you as you slept. He took in your features and marvels at how peaceful you look when you’re asleep.

“I love you.” he says for the first time to you out loud.

You shift a little and emit a quiet, nondescript sound and he panics briefly that you might have heard him. Relief floods through him as you simply mumble and nuzzle the pillow, continuing to rest and none the wiser to the confession that Touya spoke into the air. But a weight is off his shoulders as he climbs into bed with you and is ready to sleep alongside you.

So he tells you he loves you when he knows you can’t hear him like when you’re deep in slumber, when you have your headphones on and just blast your music, or just right when you walk out the door after kissing him goodbye. He’s brave enough in those moments to say it but not brave enough to actually tell you just yet.

There’s one night where he thought you were going to say it first, and if that was the case then Touya would happily reciprocate it back.

You were hanging onto him for dear life as Touya rammed his cock into you, your hands clutching his shoulders and the back of your head digging into the mattress with your back arched off the bed. Touya had been mean to you all night by edging you, pulling out just as you’re about ready to burst and relishes in your desperate cries. You promise him you’ll do anything he wants but please please please, don’t just leave you like this. It’s only when you’re at your most desperate that Touya decided to give you the orgasm he’d been denying you.

“Such a desperate fucking whore. Were you thinking about my cock the entire day you were out?” Touya growled into your neck before nipping down on a sensitive spot as he jackhammers his dick into your pussy. “You were fucking drenched in your panties when you walked through that door. You love my dick so much that you think about it all the time huh?”

Your hands clutch onto his shoulders and Touya’s hips move to fuck you until you pass out from cumming so hard. You’ve been fucked stupid plenty of times and you just blearily look up at him as he utterly uses you to his satisfaction. There are plentiful memories of when you’ve told him you loved his dick in the frenzy of the moment, nothing but praises for his cock and how good he rams it in and out of you. It’s so fucking cute when you’re dick drunk and you slur out all your words. But Touya swears that you say it a little bit differently, straining his ears to make sure he heard you right. His hips don’t falter in their pace but he wants to know that he’s hearing what he thinks he’s hearing.

“I love… it…. cock… I love… yo…” shaky breaths leave your lips, shuddering gasps as your whole body trembles at what is sure to be an earth shattering orgasm. “S’fucking good… love ih… Love… yo— ahhh!”

Your whole body tenses and your back arches off the bed as high as your body allows, toes curling as you cum all over Touya’s cock and he cums alongside you. But even in the wreckage of your orgasm, you’re still choking out those breathless words that he was straining to comprehend just a few seconds ago. He wanted you to enunciate more, he should have slapped your cheek and made you speak clearly otherwise he would edge you again but the idea comes much too late now that you’re a boneless, brain fucked mess beneath him with his cum leaking out of you.

He fucked you too good, you’re asleep within seconds after Touya pulls out of your pussy and he’s a little disappointed that he couldn’t draw those words out of you.

Turquoise blue eyes look down at you, so vulnerable and pretty right before him. You look perfect and so comfortable in his bed that for a few seconds he’s inconceivably happy. You’re completely unaware of the power you have over him, how easily you could kill him without even trying. He’ll break if you leave him and he’ll break you if you try to leave him.

Don’t leave me.

You stay curled up in the bed and snuggled into his pillow even though you have your own on your side of the bed. A few minutes have passed and Touya thinks it’s safe to say it again, confess his heart into the silence of the room and while you’re unconscious to avoid being vulnerable; he’s just not ready yet. It would make his life so much easier if you said it first out loud but he also thinks that it would make you really happy if he were to say it first.

He knows you’ll be happy once the words are put out there, whether he says it first or you do.

Until then, he says it quietly and in the safety of his room while you rest peacefully.

“I love you.”

[janiedean]

ooh so linked to the Brienne ask re: the kingsguard part. What are your thoughts on Aerys’ kingsguard, especially like Arthur Dayne who Jaime from what I remember has complicated feelings for but pretty much idolises him. And they’re so loved by almost everyone in universe!!! Like idk how to think about them really my feelings for them are also complicated

+ okay good because I honestly don’t see why people love them so much like most of the things we’ve heard about them are like. Objectively bad. And like yeah the idea of them is cool but well that can only go so far. also I’m sorry if these asks are a mess I’m exhausted!! ALSO I think you’re amazing for answering all of us anons with such detail I always love coming on to your blog

(putting both asks in the same place uu)

in order: the fact that they're loved by everyone in-universe and fandom actually likes them (or at least arthur dayne hahahahaha god) is like... some of george's best trolling because guess what the entire point is that they're supposed to look like amazing people/the real deal when instead they're all terrible the end - except again for the poor martell prince whom we don't know enough about and I'll give him a pass bc martell people are usually not stupid af but in order:

as I said george has made a point of stating that knighthood is a rotten institution and the kg especially aerys being like... what should be the highest honor for a knight is equally as rotten as knigthood in general and is made of people who do Not Deserve The Title - I mean again hey it's orders so marital rape is fine, hey we're leaving the 15yo to man an entire castle? WHY NOT, the king is mad? WELL WE SWORE TO SERVE HIM, like not counting martell prince there isn't one single person in the aerys kg except jaime who actually upheld the oaths they swore ie protecting the innocent so make of that what you will

the fact that jaime aka the fifteen year old is literally the only one who gets the job and then goes there like 'hey we're basically covering for marital rape what the fuck' and no one else bats an eyelid should already say everything there is to say about these people's moral standard

the fact that none of them actually stuck up for the fifteen-year old who was obviously not ready for the job nor tried to idk do anything to make it easier on him or whatever also says everything about their moral standard because honestly fuck you

the fact that everyone thinks they're amazing jaime included when they're all pretty much shitty is like... well, same as fandom does, which means that the readers bought what people in-narrative do... except that the moment you scratch the surface it's really damned bad

and I'm saying barristan is on thin ice because from his chapters you can see he's like... not a bad dude but like his reaction to jaime being in there still when he saw aerys is 'ah that fucker who killed the king and was so proud he had to try and get into it at fifteen'? like??? fuck you?? honestly the fact that all of them literally served a dude who put people on fire and was a menace/danger to the realm and then have the gall to think that jaime is the worst or who didn't like try to help him or anything while he was obv struggling with his vows and the fact that he was serving a madman says all about their moral standards, again

and honestly arthur dayne is the literal worst of all of them because like - first of all oh you knight the 15yo who goes along with you slaying bandits and you don't try to dissuade him from joining the kg? what the fucking fuck am I supposed to think - second of all you don't even warn him of what is expecting him when he joins when you've been there for a while? - but third of all which drives me insane and I hate that fandom sleeps on it and goes around happily like ARTHUR/LYANNA THE SHIP OF DREAMS... okay listen like I have literally zero investment in lyanna as a character or in r + l and I don't necessarily think he did everything - I think they had a mutual infatuation and eloped and she sorely regretted it and then it was on r. who shouldn't have like acted on it because he happened to be the 20+ year old with a wife and kids, but there's the whole tower of joy situation - in which sorry but we have arthur fucking off KL with other kg people and leaving all the others in the literal shit bc they'd have to deal with aerys and it'd be less of them than they should be, to go with rhaegar to the tower of joy to help him elope which whatever, and then lyanna was left there after r. had to go back... when her brother and father were burned alive and like if she knew that then I doubt she'd have wanted to stay and if she didn't then they withheld fairly important fucking information, so like he stayed there guarding a pregnant 15-16 yo who most likely did not want to be there and who is pregnant by his best friend whose family oh accidentally murdered half of hers........ and lyanna was there even after rhaegar died so I mean it's not like the moment he happened this dude goes and says 'hey maybe we should actually go back and see if we can solve this mess' no he kept her prisoner there anyway - on top of that... here I'm wildly speculating but: he had to know rhaegar was dead and when ned showed up if we are to believe him and idt he was unreliable on that... ned didn't want to fight him or kill him he just wanted to get his sister and leave and like he was most likely in love with ashara aka arthur's sister so why the fuck would he want to kill him right, and like rhaegar's dead and arthur has nothing to lose by letting ned up especially knowing that lyanna is fucking dying in childbirth like she's dying her brother's there just let him up and solve it later esp when the dude doesn't want to kill you....... but no ned had to kill him because he wouldn't budge and why the fucking fuck wouldn't you budge at that point? your side lost the war, the guy you were friends with that you did all of this for is dead, the girl is about to die at least let her die with her family, why? - only thing I can deduce from it: that rhaegar told him that the baby's survival was the most important thing because third head of the dragon blah blah blah and that if the war was lost to just grab the baby and lyanna if she survived and fuck off to essos until he grew up, except that lyanna didn't survive so the conclusion is that he tried to stop ned from going up there bc he'd have found out about the baby and tried to stop them and at that point who gives a fuck if lyanna died or not but he'd have liked... let her die and kill ned in the process and done that most likely, and sorry but when they knightly vows are, I would like to remind everyone, In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women…. like... what, what exactly has this dude done that would qualify as that? because lyanna would be young and innocent and a woman and he basically is letting her die, that behavior does not qualify as bravery and he'd like... deny the kid a chance of growing up with his family period if he killed ned and he didn't seem to particularly give a fuck las we checked, and that's like not counting the whole 'oh I won't tell the 15yo who idolizes me that he's signing

his life away to trauma nor I will support him for shit when he does' part of it, but the tower of joy stuff is shady whichever way you look at it and honestly the more time passes the more I'm convinced this guy is just a complete pos and the worst of them all except gregor when it comes to like 'people thinking you're a good knight and you're actually a pos instead' and I'm dying on that hill until george proves me wrong

and on that the thing is that... I ranted about it once here but basically jaime idolizes the shit out of him because he never saw that even if his subconscious kinda knows because when he had the weirwood dream his greatest fear was confronting the former kg and everyone was accusing him of stuff he couldn't have physically prevented (more ranting on the weirwood dream here) and he's there like 'ah I wanted to be arthur dayne but I became the smiling knight instead' but like... actually he is more of a true knight than arthur dayne can ever hope to be? because like in the above meta I was talking specifically about how to pia he's like... better than arthur dayne, but like not to be that person but jaime who thinks he's the gregor clegane of his time and not arthur dayne, while arthur dayne was... doing the shady toj thing with lyanna - saved an entire city from aerys blowing it up - risked his neck for brienne even if he didn't even like her as in he got himself kicked in a healing stump when he couldn't even stand up for himself so she wouldn't be raped - risked his neck going back for her at harrenhal and jumped into the bear pit without even knowing how he'd manage it - was actually being a decent person to tommen until c. forced him to leave - the moment he saw what happened with pia he gave her her rapist's head when she's like a commoner no one gaf about and took her into her service - when his squire wanted to bed her he like told him to be kind to her jfc - is per tyrion the only relative who actually loved him/freed him/actually stuck up for him (and tysha is on tywin thank you all very much and jaime feels so great about it he doesn't think about it until he can't anymore) (also he was the one chasing the bandits away in the first place so he was probably there like oH I HELPED A MAIDEN too lmao god fuck tywin) - actually stuck for his cat vow bc he took riverrun without bloodshed - sent brienne after sansa with the magic amazing sword because he wanted to upheld their shared vow to cat going against his own family - the moment brienne shows up like hey wanna blow this joint and leave the army you don't wanna lead to find sansa he didn't even like blink before saying yes and I'm supposed to think that in between him and arthur dayne he isn't the only one who actually stuck to his vows as well as he could/knows anything about them/is actually a trueknight™? because lmao the fact that jaime doesn't fancy himself one because of aerys when everyone fancies arthur dayne one when the latter did absolutely fucking nothing beyond slaying bandits to put his money where his mouth was while jaime didn't even like brand himself like that and still did all of that and half of it was acting on instinct not even like doing the math before and *he* was the one wanting to be knighted at fifteen and took his vows seriously when oh wait knightly vows are basically the epitome of selflessness is like again grrm trolling the hell out of everyone characters included but it's clear from the narrative imvho and I can't wait for the moment he serves the just desserts and a) jaime realizes it b) everyone else in-narrative realizes it c) bran timetravels to the fucking toj and we find out what actually went down there and this saint arthur narrative is burned to the ground because honestly no

there, I think I spat out almost all of my venom XD

[frasermints]

We Don’t Have Each Other

Chapter 3: Beast of Burden

this chapter’s a bit all over the place but the puzzle pieces’ll make sense in later chapters. this is all necessary exposition so i’m sorry if it’s slow or doesn’t track well

pairing: bucky barnes / tony stark   words: 1200 

ao3   prologue   chapter one   chapter two 

content: nightmares about kidnapping, sam and riley smoke and drink, they’re scared about their next mission, author is Intentionally Cryptic™

1969 - Sam

It’s a rare sort of night. Someone a few tents over got an 8 track and batteries in his last package. One of the locals was kind enough to share some grass, and one of the boys was smart enough to keep it fucking hidden this time. There haven’t been clouds in the sky for days. It feels like a whole new country, a whole new world. 

It feels like it’s been a lifetime since Sam’s been able to relax like this. 

His brothers are laughing around him, all at various levels of intoxication. Some are showing off their mail, others digging through the last of dessert. Sam’s almost jealous - Riley took off for food almost twenty minutes ago and the fucker still isn’t back yet. 

The last little bit of western sun beats down on Sam’s face, and he tries his best to soak it all in. He isn’t sure when he’ll next have a night like this, all freedom and sunshine, so he might as well enjoy it. 

Riley comes scrambling into view, then, joints in one hand and two bowls balanced in the other. Sam smiles, sight of his clumsy best friend pulling at his heart strings a bit. 

He isn’t looking forward to tomorrow. 

“Take a picture, Samantha, it’ll last longer.” Riley sticks his hip to the side, right shoulder thrown forward in a mock sexy pose. Sam snorts, snapping his handkerchief at Riley’s ass before grabbing the food. “Maybe if that girl of yours would send us a camera, I’d be able to!” 

Riley rolls his eyes and finds his seat next to Sam. The silence is weighted between them - comfortable, but only just. He pulls out a match, flicking the flame just high enough to light the end of a joint. He touches the two together, lighting the other in the already burning embers. Sam takes the first, drawing in a heavy breath. 

“Are you scared for the op tomorrow?” Riley’s voice is small; Sam would have missed it, had he not been looking at his lips as he asked. He exhales, careful not to choke on his honesty. 

“Of course I am, I always worry when you go in.” 

Riley sighs. “It’s not me I’m worried about.” 

They dig up soft smiles for each other, and smoke the rest of their night away. 

The air’s a lot sweeter than she remembers. The grass is so soft, barely brushing her ankles as she runs through the fields. Someone’s yelling behind her, probably her momma, but all she wants to do is catch up to Sarah. 

“You’re going too fast! You-” She heaves. “You gotta slow down!” She calls out to her, but it’s no use. Sarah’s legs are longer, she’s so much older… 

And she can barely run in this stupid dress. 

“It’s not my fault you’re so slow! Hurry up, Evie, we’re gonna be late!” 

She physically recoils at the name. It makes her sick, but she runs toward her sister anyway. It’s not Sarah’s fault, not like she knows her sister is different. The other girls at church make fun of her for it, for wanting to wear pants and play in the mud and help outside with the boys. It makes her weird. It makes her a ‘tomboy’. 

Evelyn doesn’t see what’s so bad about bein’ a tomboy. Or a boy at all, really. Maybe if they weren’t so mean… 

Her chest is burning, legs lead by the time she makes it up the hill. Sarah’s got her palms to her knees, sucking in big labored breaths. They both take a minute, faces lighting up as their friends come into view. 

The sun is high in the sky as they make their mud pies and flower garnishes, unrestrained giggles piercing through the dreamy haze. They’re surrounded by filth and bugs and fallen petals, but it’s the most fun Evie’s had in forever. 

Suddenly, Evie drops the flattened cake she’s holding. Her friends play on, unaffected. 

Her mind fills with terror as she slowly loses control of her body. She’s sitting up, perfectly still, but inside she’s screaming. Sarah turns to her, concern staining her big sister’s features.

“Why don’t you wanna play anymore, Evie?” She can’t answer. She can’t get her lips to move, get her lungs to force air through her throat. She’s stuck, and there’s nothing she can do about it. 

Sarah and their friends play together for hours, seeming to forget about Evie entirely. The sun disappears and gets swallowed by looming storm clouds, and their mothers call for them all to come in. 

Sarah doesn’t even think to collect Evie, to bring her with. Not even her own mother calls for her. 

Tears stream down her face as she’s locked in place, dirty and scared and alone. 

A man comes into view, then, crisp white suit a stark contrast against the near black sky. He scoops Evie up, brings her to eye level. Something twists in her gut, something telling her to run, to hide, to fear this man. 

“Don’t you worry, sweet girl. Nobody will ever leave you alone again.”

Sam doesn’t remember waking up. He doesn’t even remember going to bed. All he knows is Riley’s hand on his shoulder, commanding him to breathe, damn it. 

He sucks in a massive breath, suddenly aware of himself. He’s safe. They’re gone. He’s safe.

Riley’s words are muddled, he’s looking Sam dead in the eye and he knows, he knows it wasn’t one of the normal nightmares all the men have. He knows it was something different. 

Sam doesn’t have the heart to lie to him. 

They settle back down, and try to get a few more minutes of rest in. 

They’re up before the sun, and prepare for the beginning of the end. 

It’s a simple enough order - get in, grab the necessary cargo, and get the fuck out of dodge. It’s something Sam and Riley have done a million times over. They know the area just about as well as the locals, know exactly where to go and where to avoid. 

Sam takes in a deep, unsure breath. They know what they’re doing. They’ll be fine.

Riley doesn’t look much better when Sam meets him by the truck. They’re supposed to drive out just the two of them, twenty five miles from base. It doesn’t hit them until that very moment - this is just them, all alone, for days.  

Deep breath. They can do this.

They throw their bags in the back and strap in. It’s a long enough drive Sam can sleep off the rest of his hangover, and hopefully not spill his guts out the side. How he got stuck with the worst driver on the fucking planet he’ll never know. At least it’s Riley, he reminds himself.

Thank god for Riley. 

lmk if you want on or off the taglist: @sarcastich @kaleidoscopeluli @capnstarkey​  

[vampiresuns]

The Stories Of Dead Kings | Prologue, Part 3

✴︎ THE STORIES OF DEAD KINGS ✴︎

4.5k words. In which the Palace continues to bring out things long ago buried within Anatole, the investigation commences and he makes an unlikely friend. CWs: Memory loss, death penalty.

You can read the rest of Anatole’s apprentice timeline series here.

Antu did not like the white dogs. A shame, because Anatole loved that breed — he had only seen pictures of it, drawings in books and a couple of paintings, but he thought it was a fantastic one all the same. They looked so funky and given his preference for raccoons, it was no surprise he favoured fuzzy, slightly funny looking but beautiful animals. He’d pet them later. 

Antu liked the voice that called to Anatole even less. While he didn’t like it either, Antu reacted with a viciousness Anatole had never seen before.

Stay back! You’re not wanted! He threatened, his voice echoing in Anatole’s mind as he bared his teeth at the open air.

No! We don’t like it in there! You can’t make us go!

With the dogs pulling him through his clothes upstairs, he had to hold onto Antu for dear life, fearing his familiar would launch himself at the dogs. It made him a blur of hands, fur and hair. 

“Ouch, Antupillán, don’t scratch me!”

As soon as they’re in the dark hallway, the dogs vanished, but Antu did not seem any more calm. Still in Anatole’s arms but ready to jump if needed, he was still growling at nothing and every time Anatole tried to make an advance, trying to walk down the hall to explore the room by the end of it, Antu tried to bite his hands. 

“Fine, fine, fine, Antupillán, you win.”

When the ghostly voice purred behind them, Antu climbed over his shoulder before Antole could stop him. Of course his raccoon threw himself at an apparition, because demanding fair trials out of the Countess of Vesuvia wasn’t excitement enough for the furball he had for a familiar.

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Anatole tried very hard not to growl at Portia when she brought him breakfast, but the Palace kept hours that were too early, even for him, who had become a relatively early riser out of habit — waking up at dawn was too much, what had happened to seven AM? At least she had come with coffee, coffee he chugged while he listened carefully at her.

He had no clue about how to feel about the clothes, though the shirt was a dream come true. Cross-tied and with a V neck opening, big bishop sleeves, and matching, deep emerald green pants and a sleeveless long coat. The coat had a gold embroidered trim, and it reached his ankles, It would flutter deliciously as he walked down the hallways, the clack of the black boots with a golden plate shoe tip against the marbled floors.

Everything was miraculously his size; he didn’t still comprehend nor trust the Countess’ motives for giving him clothes, especially when he had brought his own. Anatole might not have a personal tailor, but he was very dedicated and careful about his clothing. He always strived to be well dressed, so what was the reason for it? Ease him after his opinions last-night? That felt too much like trying to buy him into the Countess' good side. However, while it was true he didn’t know how to feel about her, he felt it was unfair to automatically assume the worst. This required further analysis. 

Portia left his room and he looked at the clothes with a sigh. He examined for a minute longer as he ate another pastry. He looked at Antu, who was still pretending to be an angel after jumping from his arms to fight a ghost out of all things. 

He was eating some grapes. 

It’s pretty.

“We don’t accept gifts from people we don’t trust.”

Who’s we?

“Oh, is that how it is?”

You have never been very good at lying to yourself.

“And you’re awfully insightful this morning, huh?” 

Antupillán continued eating his grapes, this time in silence. He had a point, Anatole supposed. It was a gorgeous outfit but he hadn’t been lying to himself when he said he didn’t accept gifts from people he didn’t trust, and after last night, he wasn’t sure he was on the best terms with the Countess, even if she did seem civil enough afterwards. He couldn’t wear this, even if he really, really wanted to. It would be wrong, it would betray his principles, it would—

It would have to do because when he turned to check where he had left his clothes, he realised the Palace’s staff had taken all of them to laundry them. When Portia had mentioned that, he had assumed they’d only take the clothes he was wearing last night.

“Fuckers.”

He hated people rummaging through his stuff. He was very, very close to deciding to throw all caution and professionalism to the winds and be contrarian as could be. It was a bad idea, but there was a part inside himself which had been kept dormant for the most part. That part made him want to remind people he wasn’t trapped somewhere with them, they were trapped somewhere with him.

Perhaps another time.

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The Palace’s library was one of the most gorgeous places he had ever set a foot in. From its doors to its high shelves, with the high windows with stained glass and the plants, Anatole wished he had the entire day to get lost in it, explore every section, even the ones he wasn’t interested in. He wanted to ask why was the library locked up under so many keys, but he didn’t know if he’d get an answer, or if Portia knew, or if the Countess would be up to more of his really incisive questions about things she would deem out of Anatole’s range of incumbency. 

If you asked him, Libraries should be public.

Despite how they left things last night, the Countess seemed to be in a great mood, complimenting his looks and treating him amiably. Anatole detected no deception nor flattery in her words; it threw him off for reasons he didn’t have the time to decode right now. Perhaps he had become too used to people shading half a light on things for reasons bigger than Anatole himself, perhaps the reason was another. It’d have to wait to be pried into. 

“You told me you read.”

“Constantly, as long as my brain lets me.”

Silence fell between them. Well, this was starting to get awkward. 

“Thank you,” the Countess said.

“What for?”

“You are very genuine,” she said. Anatole didn’t know what to do with that. Taking his silence as encouragement, the Countess continued. “Reading is a wonderful gift, shared by all citizens where I come from, but it’s woefully uncommon here.”

He hummed, squinting back at the Countess. He took a sharp breath as he made himself count to ten. He had felt the same need to speak without knowing what he would say as before, but this time he could anticipate it would be something angry. He didn’t need to know where these things were coming from to know he was about to ask the Countess whose fault was that, and then he’d be really, really done for. 

He kept his mouth shut this time — Antu biting him softly (but strongly enough to make him hiss) helped. Time and place. He was better than this, he was taught better than this. 

Wait, what? Taught what? By whom?

“Concentrate, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered between his teeth.

“Did you say something?”

“That this is truly a wonderful collection.”

“Anatole… you are my guest, if you wish to return here, you need only ask. But for the moment I would have your undivided attention here.”

There was something deeply intimate about prying into someone organisational systems. How they cluttered, why they cluttered, the organisation methods employed, the thought process behind it and what you could infer of it by looking. The way documents were studied and how and where notes were taken. In that sense, Dr. Devorak’s desk teemed with information.

It might have felt like prying a little too deep into him, but Anatole thought it was a fair exchange after he broke into his house. An eye for an eye wasn’t the best justice system, but hey, a little pettiness couldn’t hurt, besides, investigating the murder was his job now. 

His musings were tampered by the mention of Asra working for the palace during the Red Plague. He didn’t remember living through it, though he had always assumed he must’ve been present for it, given their earliest memory was of a post-plague Vesuvia. It had ravaged everything. Plagues were like wars, they seldom discriminated. Not that Anatole knew of war beyond books. If that wasn’t the case this was, once again, nor the time or place to second-guess himself.

Do you know what an explosion sounds like, Asra?

After promising the Countess he would meet her for dinner, he set himself to work. Anatole loved few things more than a good puzzle without a solution, and once he grew determined he did nothing half-ways. 

Lacing his fingers together, he stretched them, a waft of satisfaction dawning over him as his joints cracked. 

“Let’s figure you out, Julian ‘Magic Cards’, hm?”

He didn’t expect his search to lead him back into the city, but with Antu in tow he’s determined to follow the trace his magic had cast into its streets. Vesuvia was a wild thing, a glimmering thing in the lowlights of dusk making Anatole wonder why hadn’t he insisted in seeing more of it, wondering how much memories of it could he be missing. What used to be his favourite spots? His favourite streets? His favourite garden? 

He wasn’t one to dwell in the past, living in the past was no way of living, but that didn’t mean the past didn’t matter. He just wanted to be able to reclaim it, to say ‘this is mine, this took me where I am today, this made me myself, just like who I am today will make me the myself of tomorrow’. He looked at the past not with wistfulness but searching for an explanation.

The area he found himself in was crowded, urbanistically speaking, shabby, probably in need of repair, and while he didn’t stop chasing that trace something in his heart (and his temple) pulsed. Something unknown and caged, something which begged to be let out, something he couldn’t make out what it was. He hated not knowing, he was getting tired of getting all these feelings, these knowledge, these looks and these visions without any sort of explanation. This time he didn’t file it away for later, and yet whatever he felt, eluded him.

The word he was looking for and failed to find was Love. A word which would continue to escape him for a little longer, as Julian Devorak himself manifested out of an open door. Finally, he thought, throwing hypothesis and chasing them was starting to give him results. 

Falling into a barrel and stepping on Antu’s tail were unforeseen outcomes. So was falling face first into Julian’s chest after he helped him out of the barrel, both of them looking at each other like deers startled by light.

After Julian let him go, he held Antu, petting him as a way to apologise for stepping on him by accident. 

“I have a name, you know? Shopkeep isn’t it,” he said as he looked at the Rowdy Raven’s sign.

“Dare I ask what brings you to this neck of the woods, Not-Named-Shopkeep?”

Anatole caught himself smiling, but as he tried and failed to find a way to explain what had happened the smile faded from his face. Words eluded him and he had to admit he was very grateful for Julian taking it in stride. Because how could he explain any of this without giving away his new-found position? Or at all? He couldn’t find it in him to articulate such a thing — not to mention the glint in Julian’s eye as he turned to him was much more exciting.

It tied neatly to the trace of Anatole’s magic, like a master key he had been desperately looking for. 

“Rumour has it you’re working for the Palace,” Julian sneered. “What happened to not being a snitch? I’m sure— well, by now— you’ve heard some interesting stories about me.”

“As interesting as you’re prone to not explaining yourself, though both of those might be gross understatements. And I take great offence in you thinking I’m a snitch. Don’t you think that had I told anyone you’d already be found?”

“I’m very slippery and you don’t know where to find me.”

“I found you now.”

“By accident I’m sure, not to say you aren’t talented and magnificent and all those things the rumours say… but you haven’t heard my side of the story.”

“Julian?”

“Yes?”

“Stop assuming the first thing about me and how I do things, will you, sweetheart?” 

Julian’s cheeks went as red as his hair. Anatole let out a pained whine. Wherever that had come from, Anatole didn’t want to know and he expected it to not come forward again. He apologised; Julian, having composed himself, thought teasing him was a good idea but Anatole levelled a look at him that convinced him otherwise. 

He sighed. Julian was right: he’d only heard things from the Palace and muddled rumours. A wanted poster was a statement of capture, not an absolute truth and it was obvious to him there was some sort of power imbalance playing against the doctor. So when Julian said he could get him a drink, to get the story and to pay him what he owes him from the reading, Anatole found it difficult to say no.

“I don’t usually accept trading payments unless previously discussed, or the party is in need, but you know what? I think I’m willing to do an exception for you.”

“Oh, please, you work for the Palace now, I think you’re set on the money.”

“You know, I haven’t discussed fees and wages with the Countess, do you think we’d be cell mates if I did?”

Julian laughed. One drink couldn’t hurt, right?

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The flurry that erupted after the caw of the Raven would be etched into Anatole’s mind forever, becoming part of his daydreams unsanctioned. It was the kind of chaos which brought the familiar thump of an inconclusive memory. The Doctor might not have told him his part of the story, Anatole was well aware, but he did give him some insight into his circles and his person. Not anyone who was wanted by the Palace would shield the Palace’s investigator in the shadows so they didn’t get in trouble for hanging out with said wanted person. 

As he vanished after an awkward and unfinished thank-you-for-not-being-a-snitch, Anatole turned to make his way back to the Palace, only to be met with Ludovico, who introduced himself and tried not to stare at him while he hailed a carriage for Anatole. 

Anatole paid no mind to the staring. Whether it’s leftover staring from the day before, or staring driven by having found him in such an odd quarter of the City, he chose to ignore it. His apology for summoning a carriage for him despite him being the one who said it was a bad idea to leave the Countess waiting, was another thing altogether. 

It was true Anatole didn’t particularly enjoy carriage rides, but why would a Palace guard would know such a thing? Did it have to do with how he felt yesterday when crossing the gates? As he stepped into the carriage he tried not to think about it, afraid he’d overthink his way into a migraine. 

Relieved as he realised he was in time for dinner, Anatole took in the exquisite smells of what is definitely too much food. He was too hungry to think about the quantity for now, perhaps he could inquire about it after he ate something. 

His appetite seemed to hold itself back at the mention of the Courtiers, almost evaporating altogether. He still forced himself to eat, he needed it after such a day in the City, while he listened with rapt attention to the Countess' words. He dabbed his mouth with a napkin before taking a drink from his cup, doing the same afterwards. That he didn’t have any issue distinguishing the cutlery from one another somehow didn’t call to his attention like his next words did.

“I know, and I promise you I’ll be careful.”

“You already know my Courtiers?”

“Oh no, no such thing it’s just—”

“One can never second-guess one’s intuition, is it not right Anatole?”

For the first time in two days, when he smiled at the Countess it was genuine. “Exactly.”

Just like he knew the painting, the gardens, that other version of himself walking through them and his opinions on subjects which required more education than the one he thought he had, he somehow knew the Court — being equal times prepared to brace himself for meeting it, and unprepared for whatever he may find.

He knew deep inside he could trust the Countess to have his back on that, however. It’s the way the word ‘Courtiers’ felt from her mouth: she didn’t trust them. 

The mention of Julian’s hanging brought him back from wherever place of commodity his mind had gone into. The faraway look in the Countess’ eyes almost eluded him. Almost.

“Countess…”

“I am thinking about what you said last night, Anatole, but I expect you to understand I must seek to tend to my people’s needs.”

“And you think they need executions?”

“I think they need to see justice done.”

While restricted and mild, Anatole couldn’t help to look at her with some semblance of disappointment, his unspoken question dancing between them.: And is this justice? Is justice confession and punishment? 

She truly must’ve given it a thought to not react with the same impetu as last night. Instead she changed the topic with a weary sigh, claiming such were tomorrow’s matters and stating having questions for him — not of his day, like Anatole had feared, but of himself. Being surprised at the change of disposition the Countess had shown today didn’t cover it. Bewilderment might. 

At the mention of friendship, bewilderment fell short too. Sensing his apprehension, she smiled at him invitingly, jovially, exposing her hands to him in a gesture of trust. 

“I am afraid I do not have many friends, nor know enough people who fear not my position in order for them to tell me what their true opinions are.”

Anatole sighed. “Countess, I do not wish to antagonise you when I say those things, I find it hard to help it, that is all. I’d like to think if I was in such a position the responsibility was so heavy I needed council, I would wish it was sincere. It’s not up to us how history remembers us but that doesn’t mean we have no choice in the matter. I believe our choices make us who we are, whichever those choices might be.”

“You are awfully impertinent,” the Countess said with a playful tone, “which must surely give you an advantage at life.”

Anatole laughed with his mouth open, his head thrown back. “No, but it does give me a strong personality. Tell me Countess, what do you wish to know about me?”

✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎

Out of all the things he found about the Countess, perhaps finding out she too understood the feeling of homesickness for a place you could no longer return to — because one couldn’t or one didn’t wish to — was the least expected out of them all. Anatole knew he had been born in Bgraz, Balkovia, but that’s all he remembered of his hometown. He didn’t even remember how he had ended up in Vesuvia, though the more he thought about it, the more he suspected he had some kind of relation to the City beyond his deceased Aunt having a shop there. 

He didn’t tell the Countess as much, not even sure of how to word it aloud but it was refreshing to find someone with whom he could talk about these things.

The night was welcoming and cool. The stars were visible in the inky night sky, making Anatole wonder how they would look in Balkovia, that unknown homeland he couldn’t remember. The Countess’ words about Anatole not being quite like she had imagined him, or the intrigue she felt towards him pulled him away from his thoughts.

Anatole wondered if she, like Julian, was also a victim of the rumour mill. Word in town was she was a tyrant, yet she didn’t seem malicious — malice was something Anatole’s language filter picked up with incredible ease and it left a feeling in him hard to ignore. It didn’t just make him immediately stand on edge, it also felt like tarr on one’s skin. Hot, icky and venomous. The Countess felt lost, not malicious.  Someone with good intentions and not enough turn out, as he had previously felt.

“Tell me, Anatole… Why did you come to the Palace? Why did you agree to help me?”

“I believe I said it was a matter of justice, last night.”

“You did, but when I asked you to come, you didn’t know what for.”

She got him there. The offer of trust from the Countess would not last if he wasn’t honest with her — perhaps if he was, he would be able to convince her to reconsider the way in which the Devorak affair was being conducted.

The answer was obvious, wasn’t it? 

“Because it felt right. I knew that whichever answers I’ve been seeking, I would find them here.” Anatole existed in the liminal space between his heart and his head. They were extensions of one another. Living a full life required both. 

When the Countess asked him if he had any questions for her, reassuring him he could speak freely, Anatole already knew what to ask and in his defence, the Countess shouldn’t have taken it as a vague question, because it wasn’t. The claim was just an excuse to elude the topic; the stage they were in, of whatever it was she, him and whatever else bigger than them had sent in motion was looking at them in the eye and avoidance would help exactly no one. 

“You know I mean the murder investigation. The Count has been dead for years, so why now?”

“Ah, that is a right question to ask. Vesuvia is in dire need of help. Order needs to be restored… and I am in the unique position to restore it. However, I intend to lead by example, not fear. I must show the city I am capable. I have so many plans for Vesuvia. I was to see this city flourish… Perhaps you’ll be able to help me with those plans, Anatole. I could use more competent people on my side...”

Her loneliness was heavy, almost too heavy, the feeling pouring into her speech and threatening to cover Anatole under a heavy blanket, merge with his own unattended loneliness and trap him in place forever. Seen and unseen, craving connection and something more he couldn’t name nor grab, no matter how hard he tried to.

“It’s funny,” Anatole said, a knot in his throat. “I did not expect you to be as lonely as I am. I never allow myself to admit it out loud, let alone in front of someone else. Yet here I am.”

“You already know I won’t do things whatever way. I want to find justice, and I do not believe justice lies in a hanging. You are right, your position is unique, but it’s also risky,” Anatole paused to take the Countess hands in his. His next words came from the same unknown place as they did all those times he felt compelled to speak, though they were much kinder this time: “When we know something is not right, we do not settle. People like us, whatever that means, were not thrusted into the world to settle. Power wielded without reason, without justice, without kindness, without knowing the subject you must serve will always lack. I will not tell you what to do, you are capable enough, Countess, to figure that out on your own, but I will tell you this, as a friend: truth is the only thing worthy to be built on, and when we find that truth we plant ourselves in front of whomever dares us to move and we say they move. The truth can’t lead you astray, as unpalatable or hard to accept as it might sometimes be.”

Out of all the things he expects the Countess to tell him that he’s sweet is not one of them. He’ll take it.

✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎

Just between you and me… I think Count Lucio had a lot of enemies, too. Alone in his bedroom, having returned from exploring and chatting around with her, Portia’s words swirled around him, letters formed by a light orange haze, forming and evaporating in front of his eyes. Portia’s words came from rumours but they were enough to cast reasonable doubt about what might have transpired that night. It was kind of her to look after Anatole, so the least he could do was to take her words to heart. 

Originated in rumours or not, Portia was right. 

Going out with her was as strange as it was enlightening. He was sure the Chef, Hestion, had said something to Portia along the lines of how he expected Anatole to remember his way around the kitchen, only he had called him ‘Secretary Radošević’. Perhaps it had something to do with the investigation, but it made Anatole feel odd. 

The servants in the Veranda had been very welcoming, but almost too welcoming and he was sure he had caught a couple of them speaking about him —not as if this was his first time in the Palace, but as if this was him returning to it. Speaking of returning, someone had congratulated him for becoming the main investigator for the case and how it was nice to have him back. Ignoring the way his vision splotched as best as he could, Anatole had only thanked them and turned back to Portia feeling lost and ill. 

Normally, Anatole paid no mind to out of place comments. If someone demanded something of him he couldn’t remember, he tried to remove himself from the situation as fast as possible, but these felt different, the words staying with him even though his and Portia’s nightly adventures had finished. 

What weighed him down the most, though, was the Countess wanting him to join them for the announcement tomorrow. It made sense, but he had a terrible feeling about it.

Antupillán was nowhere to be found. Anatole hoped that he had a good reason to be missing at a time like this. 

[bb-tings]

One Night With The Devil

reader x rafe x a hint of barry 

request: your masterlist tags said to send some barry requests, so, if you feel comfortable, what if you were rafe's girlfriend and he couldn't pay him the money he owed for drugs so instead they made a deal together where barry could have his way with you for a night as a way of rafe paying off his debt? 

(fyi, just in case you didn’t see it the first time: I COMPLETELY CHANGED THE POT FROM THE TEASER {but the barry part comes in part 2})

summary:  In which Barry would do anything to get the girl back. Screwing Rafe over in the process, well that’s just the icing.

(part one is basically just barry & y/n hurting rafe’s feelings) 

warnings: LOTS of cussing, lots of yelling, lots of anger, lots of talk about sex but no sex (yet)

TAGLIST:  @ampanonyg @ims0golden @jjsmentalpolaroids @stargazingstarkey @letsgofullkook @jjmbanks @maybanksbaby @1-800-jjslut @simpforstarkey @jellyfishbeansontoast @ilovejjmaybank​​ @royalpogue​ @bitchell-marner @rafecameronswh0re @baby-pogue @sunwardsss @k-k0129 @afterglowsb-tch13 @in-stability @ilovejjmaybank​ @abbiesthings​

taglist requests are open 😊

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        She watched the sweat roll down his face, knowing that the sun’s rays weren’t the only reason for the salty perspiration. Rafe wrung his hands together, his shoulders rigid as he spoke with Barry. She didn’t need to hear the conversation to know that neither boy was happy about the situation, however, they showed very different emotions. Barry looked fed up with the rich boy, not wanting to hear another lame excuse as to why he, once again, didn’t have the money he owed. Even though the Cameron boy was much taller than the dealer, he couldn’t help but be afraid of the dealer. He had been threatened with his life and the very few things that he cherished, but he still somehow found the bravery every week to show up at Barry’s place with empty hands. 

        Y/n was well aware of Rafe's unhealthy habits, but after many, many attempts at trying to get him to stop or get help, it only resulted in yelling matches and tears. She was also well aware of the fact that she could do a lot better. Y/n had somehow always found herself involved with the wrong types of boys. From rich, stuck-up, coke-addicted, college dropouts to surfing, adventure chasing, daddy issues having, stoners to criminal, shotgun carrying, ex (most likely dishonorable) military, drug dealers. But that was just a few vague types. Guess Maybank and her current beau weren’t the only ones with daddy issues. At least she was happy in ⅔ of those relationships.

        Barry’s eyes moved to the young girl hiding behind the open door, biting his lip when she crossed her arms over her exposed chest in the low cut crop top, not realizing that it only made the skin more visible and teasing to his eye. 

“Damn, how the hell did you score that? Cause I’m picturing a few ways you could repay me.”

        Rafe looked up to Barry, confusion written on his face. He stood up straight and followed Barry’s eyes, watching his girlfriend stepping out from behind the door and closing it. Rafe took notice of how she seemed to be captivated by Barry's stare, neither being able to look away.

“Nah, man, she’s off-limits.” Hearing this made Barry laugh, knowing at one point in his life, he two could have muttered those same words about the same girl.

        He wished he could tell him the truth, the truth that Rafe has no idea about. The truth that lived before Barry himself even met Rafe, before he lost the girl. That girl was his, and he’ll be damned if he isn’t gonna get her again before the drugs get to him.

“Boy, when you gon’ get it. Ain’t none-a’ yo’ shit off-limits to me. As long as you owe me, yo’ shit, is my shit. But, ya’ know what, I've decided that I don't want yo' money anymore,” the boy looked over to where the young girl was still standing with a smirk on his lips. “I want something a little more personal to you."

“You’re joking, right? Like you can’t be serious-”

“Why cain’t I be?” This time Barry got right in Rafe’s face, invading his personal space, at least what was left of it.

“B-Because she’s- she’s a-”

“Because she’s what? A virgin? You one dumb mother fucker, Cameron. You know that? Look,  we both know that ain’t true. I know she’s a freak, and I know that she didn’t make you wait that long. She wanted it just as bad as you, didn’t she?” When Barry’s statements were met with silence, he continued.

“I told you. I run this shit, Cameron. Nothing happens on this island that I don’t know about. Not one girl that you get, hasn’t been through me yet, Country club. So you either tuck tail and go beg daddy for some big cash, or you tell yo’ sweetie over there to open up. Either way, you best get rid of that pride until I’m satisfied.”

        At that moment, Rafe weighed his options. He thought about how he could come clean to his dad, tell him about all the shit he had gotten himself into over the last two summers. How he started to sell things around the house to support his addiction, how he was the reason 2 out of 6 of his dad’s priceless watches somehow came up missing. He thought about how he could tell his girlfriend that she had to give it up to his drug dealer for him to drop his dues. He could only imagine how that would go over. But he was angry now. What the fuck was Barry talking about? What had Y/n not told him?

“You want me to WHAT?!”

        It had been a couple of hours since they were parked outside of the infamous trailer. Rafe had tried to wait it out as long as possible before telling her about the deal, but it was getting late and he knew that it was now or never.

“Trust me this is the last thing I want you to do. But-”

“Then why the fuck are you asking me to do it.” Y/n stood in his room with her fingertips on her temples. She couldn’t comprehend what was going on. Y/n watched Rafe smoke his joint while he sat against his headboard. Standing at the end of the bed, watching Rafe tilt his head back and drop it against the wall. She let the thoughts run through her head, all the questions she had. Running, chasing. Why did she let herself get here? Did she sleepwalk her entire relationship? What had she done to make the boy think he had some type of control or say so over her? “What the fuck is wrong with you, Rafe?”

“What’s wrong with me? How about how you? What’s going on with you and my drug dealer? Huh? You’re a liar!” Y/n couldn’t believe her ears. The things coming out of his mouth had her stumped.

“What the actual fuck are you talking about? First of all, I have been nothing but faithful to you, Cameron! And we both know you can’t say the same about yourself. Second of all, my relationship- my past relationship with Barry, is none of your damn business. We’ve had our troubles, but don’t you dare call me a liar, because I have ever only been honest with you. “

“If you’re so fucking honest then why didn’t you tell me that there was even a relationship. Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to have your drug dealer threaten your life and then in the same sentence tell you that he’s fucked your girlfriend before you even met? Because you didn’t tell me-”

“BECAUSE YOU NEVER ASKED! I’m so sorry that it’s hard for you to hear about all the guys on this island that fucked me before you did, but I’m not sorry for doing it. I’m sorry your pride doesn’t allow you to pull your head out of your ass and see that we’ve both been in other relationships before us. I don’t know what you want me to do, Rafe. What? You want me to list them? Is that what you want? Just in case you ever come in contact with one of them and they tell you about our past. Yeah, Barry was my boyfriend at one point. We’ve fucked multiple times. Wanna know who else? The Maybank kid you hate so damn much, fucked him too, more than once. I sucked Kelce off during my freshman year in the boy’s bathroom. Made out with Topper lord knows how many times. I’ve even hooked up with Kie. In your house, in your sister’s bed. So many people other than you have touched my body. That’s something you’re just gonna have to live with. Because I like sex, Rafe. A lot.” 

        Y/n wanted to make him angry. She wanted to see the blood rushing to his head, the veins in his arms getting tight. Wanted him to feel the anger, the same anger rushing through her. The same anger that had her ready to walk away. “Let’s not forget the time your father was willing to risk it all for me.”

“Shut up.” Rafe had traded his spot on the bed for the corner of his room. He was facing the wall with his head in his hands. Palm pressed into his ears. Y/n loved that the 6‘2, almost grown, boy looked like a kid throwing a tantrum. But she wasn’t done.

“What is that hard to hear? Does it hurt that the man you hate the most, the man who looks at you, his own son, with such hatred, almost fucked an underage girl?”

   Rafe was fuming at this point. Eyes squeezed shut, teeth barring down. He was in a hunched position as if the lower he got would allow the words to feel further away.

“I bet it sucks to know that the first time you introduced me to your family. Your friends. That we all had you fooled. Looking at each other, shaking hands as if none of us had never met before. I bet it makes you feel like less of a man, right? Silent whispers with our eyes, sharing secrets we each shared. Making a pact with our glances and our body language. You’re not the man anymore, are you rafe? I wish I had let Mr. Cameron touch me. Ward Cameron’s hands running all over my-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Rafe had snapped. Listening to her words. Hearing the details, it messed with his head. Fucked up his version of the last year. Before he could stop himself, he crossed the room and his hand was wrapped around her throat. He loved her and his body knew it. His grip wasn’t too tight. Nothing he hadn’t done to her before, but now it was different.

“Get your fucking hands off me.” Y/n lifted her hands and shoved Rafe’s shoulders away from her. When she looked back up at the boy she saw them. The tears. He had the nerve to cry, after everything he had put her through. The drugs, the abuse, the yelling, fighting, sex, lying, cheating. If she could deal with all of his bullshit without breaking down and losing her mind, then he had no fucking right to.

“I’m so done. I’m so over letting you run over me, controlling me. Thinking that you own me. Thinking you have the right to whore me out to save yourself. As if I’m some fucking toy. I’m a fucking human being, Rafe. And I’m done. We’re done. It’s over.”

        Rafe stood there, hopelessly watching, as the girl he didn’t know how to love but wanted to so bad, came to her senses and left. Feet planted, tears rolling. They had met his lips now and he could taste the salt. He watched as she packed all her shit up. She was good at remembering where all her leftover shit had been stored and it took her all of 5 minutes to pack it all up.

        When she opened his bedroom door and stepped out, she saw Sarah waiting on the steps with a couple of bathing suits in her hands. Y/n knew by the smirk on the girl’s face that she had heard everything, or at least the worst parts. Sarah stood up and leaned on the stair railing, handing the pastel-colored clothing down to the frustrated girl.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah laughed at the girl’s cringing, scrunched up face. She waved her hand and smiled down at her.

“It’s fine. Unlike some people, I know Topper had a life before me. But that Kie situation, something about my bed. Yeah, I’m gonna need you to elaborate on that one.” Y/n let out a small genuine laugh. She sympathetically smiled at the younger Cameron.

“That’s not what I was apologizing for.” Y/n looked shamefully towards the ground, feeling bad for what the girl had to hear about her family. She looked back up towards the staircase when she heard a sigh leave her lips.

“I’ve known that my dad has issues since I was pretty young. Honestly, I’m just glad that Wheezie and I weren’t the ones who got the fucked up genes. Especially me, I feel like Wheezie could hold her own, ya’ know?” At this Y/n chuckled and then reached for Sarah’s hand.

“Yeah, but if anyone’s holding their own, it’s definitely you, babe.”

“Love you, be safe,” Sarah watched as one of her closest friends started walking backwards towards her front door.

“Will do. Love you too.”

        With that Y/n let herself step outside of the house and into the outside world. Before she walked to her car, she let herself look around the yard. She wanted to take it in, all the memories. Good, bad. As much as she hated that she had let him put her through shit, she didn’t want to regret anything. She wanted to believe that it was something that she would one day look back on and smile. Smile at the thought of whatever she had learned, smile at whatever life experience she could apply the knowledge to. The young girl was done with letting Rafe damage her view on things. She wasn’t gonna let him hurt her anymore. Mentally, emotionally or physically. She was done.

        So as Y/n slid into the driver’s seat of her car and drove her way out of the Tannyhill yard, she allowed herself to hum along to the song playing on her radio. But when she reached the main road and her fingers unconsciously pushed the bar protruding from her steering wheel up, her eyes caught the green arrow on her dash pointing to the right. 

        Y/n turned her head towards the same direction and looked at the many houses that she knew people didn’t deserve. She knew that half the people in Figure 8 didn’t deserve half the things that they owned. They were stuck up, rich white people (most of them anyway) that didn’t give a shit about anybody but themselves. So instead of turning right, towards her own medium-sized home, with her warm bed, where her family was waiting. She turned left.

Towards the cut.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Breakfast and Bus Rides

Criminal Minds/Supernatural crossover ft. Harry Styles

Word Count: ~3030

Warnings: Egregious amounts of fluff, one gratuitous kitten, and a couple stoned rockstars. Lots of discussion of coming out and some other LGBT-adjacent issues. 

A/N: A wild Plot appears! I was having some feels about coming out/honesty (hm wonder why, is a mystery) and foisted those feelings on JJ and Dean. 

Thanks to @stunudo​ for a pre-read, endless encouragement, and the kitten scene idea.

This is part of the Rockstar AU. It picks up right where Wake-Up Calls and Watermelon leaves off. 

Dean exchanges a glance with Sam, and they both hang back as the others start to gather in the kitchenette. Penelope keeps shooting wide-eyed, starstruck looks at Harry, and it’s making Dean nervous. 

“You okay with this?” Dean asks quietly. “You think she’ll keep her mouth shut?” 

Sam shrugs. “I can talk to her.” 

“And Schroeder? I mean, love the kid to death, but holy hell does he babble.” 

“Spencer’s known since the first night of tour.” 

“How?” 

Sam chuckles. “Kinda a funny story… tell you later. I honestly think he might’ve forgotten, though.” 

“What about the rest of ‘em?” Dean asks. “I mean, I like ‘em well enough, but…”

“I want to tell them,” Sam says, without hesitating. “I’m just gonna bite the bullet and invite them all over for breakfast.” 

Dean sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “You sure?” 

“I trust them.” 

“Okay. Just don’t want you to get hurt, Sammy.” 

“What a shock,” Sam deadpans. “Dean’s pulling the protective big brother card? Alert the press.”

Dean purses his lips and gives Sam a light punch on the arm. “Bitch.” 

“Don’t let Emily hear you saying that,” Sam chuckles. “Shoulda heard the lecture I got the other day about the way misogyny is perpetuated through language. Honestly, though. What do you really think is going to happen? It’s not like they’ve outed you and Cas, they’ve all been awesome about it.” 

“This is different, though,” Dean says, with a grimace. “I mean, like it or not, it’d be news. The gossip rags would pay serious fuckin’ money for a picture of the two of you.” 

“It’s not like we’re gonna walk around, like, fused at the mouth,” Sam laughs. “No PDA required. But… I want him to meet some of my friends. Y’know?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Stop worrying so much, Dean.” Sam’s expression is soft and fond, and he claps Dean on the shoulder before heading for the coffee maker and Harry. 

Harry wraps himself around Sam like a giant squid, if a giant squid wore Gucci, and Dean’s chest feels tight with anxiety. The two of them are looking at each other with these stupid googly-eyed dimpled smiles. It doesn’t even count as PDA, not really, except that Sam is so godawful at hiding his feelings that he might as well be wearing a neon sign. 

Then Harry starts feeding him a strawberry, and that definitely counts as PDA, if not public indecency. Gross. 

If someone did take a picture of them like this, with their sleepy-eyed smiles and interlaced fingers, it’d be worth thousands of dollars. That’s a hell of an incentive. Dean’s had people fuck him over for much less. 

Dean’s learned his lesson over the years. The only people you can really trust are your family. 

Cas emerges from their room, blinking blearily around at everyone before coming over to Dean and leaning in for a kiss. 

“Morning breath, fuck,” Dean grumbles, making a face, but he grabs Cas and pulls him in anyway. 

A cheer goes up around them, and Dean sees Jack coming out of his room, clothed now, but still blushing red and shamefaced. 

“What’d I miss?” Cas says, scowling, and Dean grins gleefully before launching into the story. 

* * *

“I guess I just don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” Spencer says, contemplating his hand of cards. “Aside from a very vocal minority, there’s widespread support for LGBT rights, statistically, and the music industry is more progressive than most. If you look at David Bowie, for example —” 

“I pass the turn,” Charlie interrupts, cutting him off before he can launch into full-on textbook mode. “It’s not really about that, though.” 

Charlie forgets about the conversation for a minute as he attacks her planeswalker. She used to own her local Friday Night Magic tournaments, and she’s more than a little pissed that this skinny fucker in a sweater vest has won three of their last four games. Spencer is sneaky. Charlie can respect that, but it’s infuriating. 

“Why, then?” 

“Hmm? Oh, that. It’s more to do with… privacy, I guess. That’s a hell of a lot of public attention for Sam. He doesn’t want people to sing Happy Birthday to him, you know?” 

“Doesn’t everybody hate being sung to?” Spencer asks pensively.

“Well, yeah. But Harry’s the sort of famous where people get totally invasive and weird about his personal life. Like, starting rumors, tabloid shit, and it extends to anyone he gets involved with.” 

“Really?” Spencer downs the last of his coffee. It’s his third cup, but he hasn’t touched the plate of pancakes that’s been going cold on the table.  

“Yeah. I don’t know if Sam realizes the full level of crazy at work, but Dean and I looked online, one night, after Harry brought it up. The shit people have said about his exes… about his friends, even. They’re vicious about it. Analyzing every facial expression in every picture, making up stories…” 

Spencer’s forehead creases in a frown. “I play Grasp of Darkness on your Primordial Hydra and swing with all my zombies.” 

“Motherfucker,” Charlie mutters. “Rematch?” 

Spencer’s staring intently down at the table, lost in thought, and he doesn’t seem to hear her for a second. She chucks one of her D-20s at his face and he starts when it bounces off his forehead. 

“Sorry.”

“Where’d you go?” 

He hesitates before mumbling, “I had a stalker.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, she — Cat. I told her I didn’t want to sleep with her, and she didn’t like that very much.” He pauses, brow furrowed. “She learned everything about me, and I mean everything. Tried to manipulate me, tried to manipulate my friends…”

“Yikes. What happened?” 

“She went to jail for a little while. She showed up when she got out, one night in Boston—” Spencer brightens. “—but Derek tackled her and threw her into the Charles River.” 

“For real?” 

Spencer nods and smiles in a way that makes Charlie think she’s not getting the full story. “It was a weird night.” 

“So she hasn’t showed up since then?” 

“No. But… I just felt like I couldn’t hide anything, like every part of me, every shitty thing I’d ever done, was under a microscope. It was awful. I’m all for being honest, you know? That’s great, in theory, but... everybody deserves the right to hide if they want to. You should be the one to decide what parts of yourself you want to share.” 

Charlie thinks about the friend who outed her in high school, and how naked she felt. 

“Agreed.” 

* * *

Dean sits down next to Derek at the kitchen bar as he’s sealing the third joint.  

“Rolling for the road?” he asks, around a mouthful of bacon. “Nicely done.” 

“The key is the crutch,” Derek tells him. “Ditalini.” 

“No shit? Huh.” 

Derek keeps working, watching Dean, who’s watching Sam. 

“Nothing to worry about here,” Derek points out gently. “You know that, right?” 

Dean lets out a little self-deprecating laugh. “Sorry. Fuck. Habit, y’know? He’s my brother.” 

“Oh, believe me, I know,” Derek says ruefully, glancing over at Spencer. 

“Every person he tells is another person that could hurt him,” Dean says fiercely. “I fuckin’ hate that.” 

“Worrying doesn’t help, though.” 

Dean scowls at that, thinking for a moment as he chews, before saying, “I just wish there was a way I could help.” 

“A while ago, there was this guy who went after Emily,” Derek says slowly, twisting the next joint closed. “And he didn’t hurt her bad, or anything. Spencer and JJ jumped in, and Spencer took the worst of it, because… Spencer.” 

“Can’t see him being handy in a fight.” 

“Try telling him that when he’s pissed. Point is, though… nobody got hurt, but I was pretty shaken up about it. Beat myself up for not being there to protect them, until my girl Penelope talked some sense into me. She said, ‘It’s not your job to keep them safe all the time. The most important thing is to make sure they know they’re safe with you.’ I think about that a lot.” 

“So, what, I’m supposed to just… ignore the risk?” 

“No,” Derek says patiently. “But it’s his risk to take. You being afraid isn’t going to make the world any less scary, but knowing that you’re there, that you’re proud of him, that you’ve got his back no matter what? That helps.”  

Dean mulls that over. There’s a mulish set to his jaw that reminds Derek of Emily; it’s the face she makes when she knows he’s right and doesn’t want to admit it. He tries to hide his smile as he finishes rolling the last joint and offers it to Dean. 

“Thanks,” Dean says gruffly. 

“Any time.” 

* * *

When JJ opens the bus door, she’s greeted by a cloud of weed smoke. She can see Hotch stretched out on the couch with a half-smoked joint in one hand and a battered copy of Slaughterhouse-Five in the other. He’s reading out loud, and for a moment JJ can’t figure out who he’s reading to; then she notices Pearl curled up on his chest, rubbing her tiny fuzzy head against his cheek. 

It’s so goddamn cute JJ doesn’t know what to do with herself. She settles for whipping out her phone and taking a quick picture. 

As she walks up the bus steps, Hotch holds out the lit joint without pausing, and she takes it happily. 

JJ’s exhaling smoke, finally feeling the weird tension under her skin start to evaporate, when Rossi opens the door.

“All set,” Rossi says, giving the driver a thumbs-up. 

“Did you triple-check your head count?” Hotch asks, deadpan. 

“Sure did.” 

“Everybody present and accounted for?” JJ adds innocently. “Spencer?” 

“He’s showing off his new toy on the Winchesters’ bus.”

“Penelope?” 

“Playing Sega with Charlie.” 

“And Morgan?” 

“Already in the back, taking a nap.” 

“Emily?” Hotch presses. 

“She’s in the batcave to — oh. I see.” Rossi glowers. “Very funny.” 

“Are you sure you didn’t forget Spencer again?” JJ asks, giggling hoarsely around another lungful of smoke. 

“It was one time,” Rossi protests, flipping them off. “You try keeping track of the kid. He’s like a squirrel. A squirrel on LSD.” 

“Pretty sure it was mushrooms that day,” JJ points out. 

Rossi sits down and asks thoughtfully, “Did anybody see that coming?” 

“Sam? Honestly, no,” Hotch answers, frowning. “Not that it’s any of our business, but…” 

“Me neither,” JJ admits. 

She’s still rattled by the whole thing, for reasons she can’t quite put her finger on. It’s not about Sam, or whatever bullshit constructs of masculinity that would make people assume he’s straight just because he has muscles and dresses like a lumberjack. She’s not shocked by the label, or whatever. 

“There’s someone I want you guys to meet,” Sam had told them. He tucked his hair behind his ears as he said it; it’s his tell, his nervous tic, and JJ has the poker winnings to prove it. She had wondered, for a moment, what would make him smile like that in spite of his obvious anxiety. 

Dean had been glaring from the other side of the room, gauging their reactions, his arms folded and his fear written all over his face in the guise of a scowl, like a feral dog who’d been backed into a corner. JJ could understand the fear. Sam, though… Sam just looked relieved. 

Hotch and Rossi are staring at her, she realizes abruptly. 

“Hm?” 

“I said, anything you want to do in L.A.? Plenty of time for sightseeing.” 

JJ shrugs. “Not really.” 

“You okay?” Rossi asks, looking at her closely. 

“Yeah, just… tired. I’m gonna take that nap now.” She gives them a bright smile, passing the joint to Rossi, and gets up before they can question it. 

JJ feels a little better once she’s in a spare bunk with the curtain closed. It’s easier to examine the knot in her chest like this, now that she’s alone in the dark, safe and hidden. 

She keeps coming back to the smile on Sam’s face. 

There was a moment, earlier, when JJ noticed Sam and Harry from across the room as they talked to Emily and Hotch. Harry had been leaning against Sam’s side. Sam’s arm was draped casually over his shoulder, and he started playing idly with Harry’s hair, combing his fingers through the messy curls at his temple as Harry tilted his head into the touch. 

There was a peaceful possessiveness in it—the sort of cozy familiarity that had been worn soft by time like overwashed cotton—an unspoken claim: mine. 

How long has it been since JJ felt that with someone, like their closeness was a second skin that she could wear in public? 

Not since Emily. Even then it had always been tainted by fear, an overwhelming desire to hide whenever she could feel someone watching. 

She and Emily are loudly affectionate with each other in public, of course: drunk and dancing, or clinging to each other as they stagger home, or kissing with an exaggerated smacking sound when anyone mutters disapprovingly in their direction. But that’s brash and performative and platonic, the sort of thing JJ could do just as comfortably with Penelope or Spencer. That’s different. 

Anybody who’d seen Sam and Harry would’ve known immediately; that sort of intimacy is unmistakable, and Sam didn’t seem to care. He was smiling like he was proud to show it off. 

JJ has seen it in Dean and Cas, too, but never quite so clearly. Maybe it’s because they’ve never had to hide around the Business As Usual crowd, so the contrast hasn’t drawn her attention, or maybe it’s just that they’re not demonstratively tactile in the same way. You have to know him well (and you have to be paying attention) to catch glimpses of  the tenderness that Dean masks so well. He doesn’t wear his emotions on his face for everyone to see. JJ can relate. 

But Sam wasn’t hiding, that morning; he was just sweet and vulnerable and proud of it and JJ realizes suddenly that she’s jealous. That’s envy squirming around in her belly. 

She wants that sort of love: fearless, or maybe in spite of fear. She gets sick of hiding, sometimes. 

JJ puts a pin in that thought and tells herself she can deal with it later, when she’s not quite so stoned and maudlin. Right now, it’s naptime. 

* * *

Dean intended to nap all the way to Sacramento, but he only manages to doze for a half hour or so. There’s too much on his mind. He pushes groggily through the door and thinks a silent thank you at whoever got the coffee machine going. 

Spencer and Jack are sitting on one couch, playing with something that Dean recognizes as a theremin. Sam’s on the other couch, and Harry and Cas are sitting at the table. 

“What do you think?” Cas asks, when he notices Dean watching. He holds up two bottles of nail polish. 

“Black is punk rock. Pastels are for the Easter bunny’s little sister,” Dean opines. 

“Love you too, Dean Bean.” Harry shoots him a cheerful pastel-green-painted middle finger. Dean ruffles his hair affectionately on his way to sit next to Sam. 

Dean’s first instinct was to scoff, to snark, to dismiss nail polish as girly, but he knows the instinct is just a vestigial memory of his dad’s stern voice. He’s been getting better at recognizing that voice, in the last few years; for a while he thought he was done with it, figuring that if he could admit he was in love with a guy, he must be over that sort of learned bullshit. Can’t be phobic if you’re one of the homos, right? So… fuck off, Dad. 

Then Harry showed up, with his totally fuckin’ zen attitude about annihilating gendered fashion norms, and Dean found himself wincing, sometimes, or looking around furtively to make sure nobody was staring. Even at Bonnaroo, when Harry went around hiding behind wigs and glasses—when the entire point was for him to pass as a girl—Dean’s immediate knee-jerk reaction was to cringe. It’s taken awhile, but he’s getting better at ignoring the fear when it kicks up in his gut. 

Dean’s distracted by a drawn-out melancholy squeal. 

“Someone turned a taxidermied badger into a theremin one time,” Spencer says happily, as Jack waves his hand over it again. “They called it a badgermin.” 

Dean snorts. “Sounds like a violin that needs an exorcism.” 

“Or a Barred Owl on barbiturates,” Sam offers. 

“Worn-Out-Brake-Pad flavored La Croix.” 

“A whale that got so stoned it forgot how to talk.” 

“One of the mermaids from Harry Potter having a wet dream,” Spencer suggests, and Cas laughs so hard he almost knocks over the bottle of nail polish. 

“Get your shit together, Castiel,” Harry scolds, but he’s giggling too. It’s like being scolded by a very happy sloth. “You’re done, mate. Who’s next, hmm?” 

He points at Jack, who shakes his head. 

“I need to get some sleep,” he says, and the last word cracks on a yawn. 

Sam grins. “Yeah, I’m guessing you didn’t get much rest last night.” 

“Sweet dreams, Mr. Grey,” Dean teases, and wolf-whistles as Jack retreats. Cas relocates to the couch, giving Dean a peck on the cheek before sitting back and admiring his manicure. 

Harry waves the bottle at Spencer, who doesn’t notice; he’s focused intently on the instrument, coaxing out something that actually sounds like music, in a vague, freaky kind of way. 

“Yeah, okay,” Dean says, rolling his eyes and settling at the table across from a delighted Harry. 

“How about a nice hot pink?” he asks. 

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Wasn’t one of those used in the Doctor Who theme?” Harry asks Spencer. Spencer brightens like a big geeky Christmas tree that’s strung with lights made of useless trivia. 

“Now you’ve done it,” Dean says under his breath. 

“Actually, that’s a common misconception,” Spencer announces. “The original composition used—”

Dean must be going soft, because he’s actually kind of enjoying this, both the lecture and the manicure. 

Then again, he thinks, Sam is enthralled, and Cas is smiling, and maybe Dean’s just really enjoying his life right now. 

Fuck off, Dad, he thinks, admiring his pastel green nails. 

[bbaronpiper]

Moment of weakness pt.2

Hi guys! part 2 is here. I just wanted to say thank you all so so much for all the feedbacks, support, likes and reblogs for the previous part. It made my heart swell with joy. love you all! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. Please know that I tried to tone down the angst on this part. but failed. haha sorry, I’m a sucker for angst stories. 

Anyway, heres part 1 if you haven’t read it yet. 

Warnings: lots and lots of angst, cheating, swearing, use of drugs and writings of an amateur wanna-be writer.

GIF not mine ctto.

Arón x reader

Arón’s P.O.V

Loud music was blasting through the speakers as the crowd go crazy. Night out with the boys was always fun. And it is. But not for me at least not tonight. Guilt was drowning me. I was lost in my thoughts when I heard Miguel’s voice.

“Do you love her?” Miguel asked me out of nowhere. But I answered immediately. It was a no brainer question. “Si, I love her with everything in me” I said wholeheartedly.

“Who?” He raised an eyebrow. “Hermano, I never mentioned a name. Who were you thinking?” he said with a straight face. He knew about my unfaithfulness. Oh boy how he wanted to beat the shit out of me when he found out I was cheating on Y/N. I begged him not to say a word saying I should be the one to tell her. And I was really planning to. I just don’t know how.

“Y/N, of course. She’s my girlfriend” I meant it. I was really thinking of her when I answered Miguel’s question.

“Then why are you doing this to her?” Miguel pushed as if I wasn’t on the verge of a mental breakdown yet.

He had me speechless. This fucker. It felt like as if a truck on full speed ran over me, shift gear to reverse and ran me over and over again. “No more” I whispered to answer Miguel’s question.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. A moment of weakness. The other woman, she, who-shall-not-be-named and I met on set. She was our make-up artist. Damn, Y/N even met her once when she visited me. There was no excuse to what I did or why I did it but that supposed to be a one-time thing became a bad habit. 4 months. I’ve been fucking her for four months and I swore every damn time that it was the last one. That we’ll stop. But I craved for her. Stupid.

But that’s over now. Tomorrow, I swear I will end it once and for all. I can’t do this to Y/N anymore. I love her too much. Fuck. I even bought her a ring. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, make up for all the mistakes I’ve done.

Sometimes, part of me just wanted to pretend I did nothing wrong, go on with life and not tell Y/N. I am scared as hell but she deserved better.  I knew what the consequences might be but I owe her the truth. My hands are shaking I couldn’t even insert the fucking key on my door’s keyhole. “Joder!” I sigh frustrated.

 Once I got in our apartment. All things went to shit. Everything was a blur. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor wishing a truck really just ran me over.

I lost her. Puta mierda. I lost her.

 ---

Hours turned to days, turned to weeks, turned to months. I don’t even know what the date today is. All I know is that I want to numb the pain. And what better way to do that than to turn to alcohol and drugs. I felt my body getting weaker everyday but I don’t give a fuck. What else am I gonna lose? Oh, that’s right. Nothing! Oh god, I don’t even know where she is right now. I tried to call her. I tried to look for her but nobody knows where she is. I really tried.

So here I am sitting on my bathroom floor drowning in sorrow, high as fuck. I feel awful but that doesn’t compare to the hurt I felt when she told me she was done with me. I keep on hearing her voice inside my head. I see her every damn time I close my eyes. Memories flooded in my brain. The way she looked at me with anger in her eyes. The pain and disappointment in her voice as she told me she knew for months. She’s been suffering alone for months. But I was too selfish to see it. If I just loved her properly maybe I would still have her.

I miss the warmth of her body. Her soft lips against mine. The way our bodies perfectly fit together when we’re making love. How she would always make my days better. She’s my rock, my everything, she kept me sane. I wished I realized this sooner before I hurt her as badly as I did.

Everything is spinning, my head hurts like a bitch.

---

Y/N’s P.O.V

You swore you’ll never be back here but you need to get the rest of your things. It’s been a month and a half in hell. You don’t know what to expect. Maybe he’s with her. You thought. Maybe he asked her to move in with him by now. But you couldn’t care less. It’s none of your business now. All you have to do was to grab your things as fast as you could and fly out the window.

You open the front door and slowly walked in like a thief, careful not to be seen nor heard. You went straight to the room you used to share with Arón. You felt a sting on your heart. You missed this. As you were grabbing your bags, you heard a small sound coming in the bathroom.

Fuck! He’s home. You panicked.

You don’t know what’s gotten into you but you felt like you have to check the bathroom and so you did.

As you entered, you saw him sitting on the cold hard floor with his back leaning on the wall for support. He had his eyes closed and looking so pale as the night you left him. It scared you for a while thinking he’s passed out or even dead. Until he stirred a little. You let out a sigh of relief.

You felt bad for him. Yes, he broke you, but still, you loved him once in your life and seeing him like this still had an impact on you. So, you kneeled in front of him. Held his face trying to get his eyes to open. “Hey, Arón?” you nervously said.

“No, no, no, god, no, por favor, no… Detener, hazlo parar.” (…stop, make it stop) he whispered. Eyes still shut closed.

You were confused. ‘til you looked around and saw empty bottles of alcohol. And what the fuck is that? Is that joint? And Pills? Oh, god. He mixed all of this? You thought to yourself. That’s when it clicked you. He thought he was hallucinating.

You got up to get a towel. You soaked it with cold water and wipe Arón’s face with it gently. Memories of you with him starts to creep in and you swore you wanted to run away. But you stayed.

“Arón” you tried speaking to him again. Shaking him a little. That’s when his eyes opened.

“Y/N,” he whispered. You barely heard him, he looked straight at you. “Bebé? Is it really yo.. are you really here?” he said as he reached out for you for confirmation that you really are there.

“Yes, I’m here. what did you do? What’s all this? How are you feeling?” you asked all those questions. Sounding more concern than you should be. As if you were still his girlfriend.

He just shrugged as tears start building up on his tired eyes. It took a while for him to answer “I missed you bebesita”

“I told you not to call me that” oh no, the anger you had inside you starts to resurface.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what I did. I-I.. just missed you s-so much. Duele mucho.” (it hurts so bad) He said. Finding it difficult to speak. Shutting his eyes again. Wincing in pain. Not because he felt like shit because of drugs and alcohol but because he felt your anger towards him.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed so you can rest. I’ll make you some soup” trying to hold back tears. He will never see me shed a tear for him ever again. you thought.

You helped him up. Lead him to bed and when he lied down, he murmured “Gracias” as you wiped his face and torso with the towel you still have on hand. Gulping a little when you saw his bare torso. god! he’s beautiful. You snapped out of it and pull the covers up to cover him. Not today satan! You thought to yourself.

You look at his sleeping form for a few seconds. Indulging his appearance: his pouty lips that you oh so loved, his mini tattoos, his moles, his shaved head with his little curls starting to grow back, for one last time. As you wished this was really the last time you had to see him. You wanted to move on. You needed to move on. But as you turn around, he grabbed you by the wrist.

“Stay. Lay down with me. Por favor… at least just until I fall asleep” He begged looking at you. You can hear the pain and tiredness in his voice.

You just stood there dumbfounded not knowing what to do. “Please” you heard him repeat himself. That’s when you finally gave in. took off your shoes and got under the covers with him. Fucking satan’s not done yet. He got me this time.

You were laying on your back when he turned to you and put his head on your shoulder and wrapped an arm around you. And you let him. You let him. It felt like it was killing you over again but at the same time it brought you sanctuary. You don’t even know how that’s possible. But you missed this. You missed him.

Both of you were enjoying the moment in silence until he spoke softly “Y/N, I’m really sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you… if I could just turn back time you know I wou…” you cut him off.

“Shut up, Arón” your chin starts to quiver as you felt fresh tears starting to form. “Please. Stop it. I can’t...” you were the one begging now.

He obeyed you. Not a single word fell out of his lips. His breathing was steady and you could hear his soft snores signaling he’s already asleep. You carefully got out of bed. Then headed to the get the rest of the bags you came here for. You had already prepared them that dreadful night. And just as you were about to turn the doorknob to leave. You heard him speak in his sleep.

“She’s not worth it, Bebé”

And just like that. all the tears you held all day, burst. You covered your mouth with your hand and hurried yourself to get out of that room and closed the door. You slide down on it as you felt your legs got weaker while you cried your heart out. Fuck you satan, that one hurt like a bitch.

Oh, how the tables have turned. Now, you were the one on the floor, weeping.

-----

Note: That’s it guys! I was torn between a happy ending or this one. But since I’m an angsty biatch, I went for this one. And I’m not really sure if we are supposed to forgive someone who broke us like this. Anyway, before we get personal here, I want to thank ya’ll again for reading.

Also, I’m considering on making this a trilogy. Oorrr it’s better just to leave it like this. What do you think? Feel free to drop suggestions. Ciao! <3

---

UPDATE! READ PART 3 HERE 

[heartless-error]

You have something to tell me?

Fandom: DC comics, Batman

Pairing: Jason Todd x Timothy Drake (JayTim)

Rating/Tags: JayTim Week 2020 - Day 5: Detective Tim, Secret Identity, Identity Reveal, Established Relationship, Love Confessions, Misunderstandings

Other(s) links: AO3

During the first weeks Jason spent at Wayne Manor, right after he had been picked up directly from Crime Alley, he learned something important: It was difficult to hide things from a good detective. Maybe he should have had that in mind during his adult life as well, especially when he was dating one of the best GCPD detectives.

"Tim? What happened?"

"Don't know. Tell me." He answered, angry. "You have something to tell me, Jason?"

You have something to tell me?

 During the first weeks Jason spent at Wayne Manor, right after he had been picked up directly from Crime Alley, he learned something important: It was difficult to hide things from a good detective.

 By a good detective, he meant Alfred, of course. Because at those times Bruce was a mess and was too busy panicking to have adopted another child. Really, the millionaire couldn't pay attention to when he was sneaking, smoking, stealing food, and hiding provisions along with money in case he had to flee at any time.

Anyway, he knew the man was trying to find a way to do things correctly with him, since he was a child of the street, with a difficult life, and totally different from the ray of the sun that turned out to be his first pupil, Dick.

 Of course, he didn't know that at the time. All he was aware of was that he now lived in a mansion and the butler there knew everything. Everything. No matter what he did, how he hid, or how he lied, Alfred always knew it, he always ended up finding out sooner or later. The first few times he was even scared.

 For this reason, he ended up learning that lesson. You couldn’t fool a good detective, because in the end they always ended up finding out whether by chance or not.

 He should have had that in mind during his adult life as well, especially when he did what he did. Because it would have saved him from some trouble, and he would have gotten away with it.

 That day he came home early, in a very good mood and wearing a slight smile. It was noon, and he had finished some duties, the patrol that night had been quiet, everything was going well, and his boyfriend had the day off.

 His boyfriend. His Timmy, his little detective.

 Against everything -and after several talks from absolutely his entire family- his relationship with Tim was going very well, better than anyone could have never thought. And contrary to what some people wanted to believe, Jason didn’t meet Tim as a GCPD detective, no, he was the pretty boy who lived in the neighborhood that greeted him with a cute smile, and stopped at the 24-hour coffee shop too often to be healthy. His surprise was even alarming when one night he showed up with Batman for a joint case on the police station rooftop and Jim Gordon was there with the force’s new promise: Detective Tim Drake.

As expected, just as that smile and pretty face dazzled Jason the first time he saw him in the cafe, so did his intelligence and professionalism in helping them with the case. So, days later, when Tim approached him shyly and asked him to have coffee together, how could he say no?

 He was crushing on him back then. And now, two years later, he still was.

 “Timmy.” He called him fondly as he entered the apartment they shared. “I'm back.”

 Walking down the hall, Jason looked around the kitchen and then headed to the living room. He didn't know if Tim was still asleep, but he wouldn't blame him if he did, his little bird worked too hard and sometimes didn't rest properly. Although it isn’t as if he was the most appropriate example of this considering his night activities, or night work, according to the version Tim knew.

 Even he didn't know how he had managed to hide his life as a vigilante from his partner for so long, but he couldn't continue doing it. As much as he feared for his safety or his reaction, it was a part of his life that he could no longer hide, and the more time passed, the worse the consequences.

 Just when he found Tim in the living room, he began to fear that these consequences had come sooner than expected.

 “Babybird.” He called him again.

 No answer.

 Tim was sitting at the end of the sofa, his feet up on it and curled up on himself, his arms were crossed, he was watching at the television turned off completely silent and thoughtful. His hands clenched into fists didn’t loosen, his nose was red and his eyes were watery, he seemed angry, sad, upset.

Jason's chest sank in concern, immediately closed in on the boy. Tim didn’t usually respond in a particularly emotional way to many things, he generally liked to compartmentalize unless it affected him a lot, the times when he had seen him crying had been at times like the anniversary of his parent’s death, for example.

 “Tim?” He asked somewhat alarmed.

 However, when he reached out to comfort him and lifted his hand to touch him, perhaps caress his hair in the way he knew it would relax him, he pulled away immediately, startled, surely he had been too deep in his own head to realize he had arrived.

A bad feeling began to invade him when he frowned and moved further away from his touch, clenching his fists. He knew that face, that sparkle in his eyes, he was angry, specifically with him. But at the same time his eyes were still watery and shone with disappointment, anguish.

 “What happened?” He asked again nervously.

 Tim frowned further and shrugged.

 “Don’t know. Tell me.”

 That reply was a confirmation that he was angry with him. Why? Well, based on the answer and the tone in which it was said, he might have discovered something that he didn't like at all, that would have hurt him, and Jason didn't have to think much to know what it was.

 “What?” He asked uselessly.

 Tim’s lower lip trembled for a second, but he controlled that to stop clinging to himself and getting his feet off the couch.

 “You have something to tell me, Jason?”

 Jason's alarms went off even, much louder. It was clear what was going on, Tim had figured it all out on his own.

He knew it, he knew it. God how had he been so stupid? He was dating one of the best GCPD detectives, one of the younger to join the force, with an outstanding record and the smartest person he knew. Fuck, even Batman praised the boy's ability, they had worked together on cases, that intelligence and audacity were scary, and that was what he most liked about him. Timothy was like a hound, stubborn and determined, he never gave up until he found the truth, and that was something he highly valued. If he felt that his boyfriend wasn’t being completely honest with him, of course he was going to investigate, of course he wanted to know. And having worked with the bats, being so close to him and having the necessary means, it was no wonder that he could have easily tied the dots.

 He couldn't lie to him, not anymore. He also didn’t like to do it before, the only reason he did it was because he knew it was for the best. Tim had thrown a light into his life that he never thought he could -or deserved to- have, a feeling of normality and affection that helped him improve and not be a fucking unconscious fucker. But he knew that part of his life was dangerous, dark and crazy. The proof was in his scars and nightmares, in his traumas and fears, those that Tim helped calm and never asked about. The fact that he didn’t know, kept him away from the danger that he was so afraid of could reach him, but he also worked with bats, was in the first ranks of the GCPD, and that made him join the risk.

He had no choice, besides, how could he continue to lie to him when he was there, half crying, begging him the truth and piercing his soul with those big blue eyes? Seriously, he wasn't surprised that the suspects sang so quickly with him, the boy was all eyes and pretty face.

 Jason sighed and sat down on the couch next to him, his heart beating hard and guilt devouring him. He never thought he would have to reveal his secret to someone out loud, not to a civilian, but he also never imagined caring about someone enough to do so. He looked Tim in the eye and took a deep breath:

 “Okay, it sounds like you already know, but you deserve to be told.” He said with a nod.

 Tim sniffed, looking nervously into his eyes, hurt, but let him continue. Jason swallowed and knew there was no other way out.

 “I’m Red Hood.”

 Silence.

 Tim didn’t move, didn’t react, and Jay exhaled altered. It wasn't enough, was it? It wasn’t.

 “I'm sorry I didn't tell you before.” He continued. “But I couldn't, seriously. It was too dangerous.”

 He looked for any trace of a single reaction on his face but didn’t find it. He just stood there, looking at him silently and thoughtfully. Which made him even more nervous.

 “I know you’re in the GCPD and we’ve worked together, but I didn't want to get you much more involved.”

 Still silent.

 “I pissed people off very dangerous, horrible villains, it’s a world you don't want to get into.”

 “…”

 “You have to believe me. If it were up to me, I would have told you a long time ago, but the more time passed the worse the secret became.”

 “…”

 “I constantly face undesirable people and you would be a very easy target.”

 “Jason.”

 By the time Tim whispered his name, the dam had broken, and he couldn't stop babbling, thinking aloud about everything that he had been holding back.

 “I know it sounds selfish, but it’s not just up to me and there’s a reason we keep civilians out of that life. Fuck, if you knew...”

 “Jason.”

 “It's a fucking hell and it killed me; I couldn't risk you.”

 “Jason.”

 “I know I've broken your trust but...”

 “Jason!” Tim interrupted, weary and leaning down to meet his eyes fiercely. “I knew it.”

 It took him three seconds to assimilate that, causing him to freeze and the confusion nullify him.

 What the fuck?

 “Eh?” He asked confused.

 “I knew it.” The smallest repeated, huffing and crossing his arms. “I’ve always known that.”

 What the actual fuck?

 Tim had to see the chaos and mess that was his head at the time on his face, because he huffed harder and shook his head, totally exasperated.

 “Jason, I'm not stupid.” He emphasized with a frown and raised his hands to point to the apartment. “This place is reinforced everywhere with bat technology.”

 He didn’t know what to say, because that was a good point.

 “You hide a gun in the cereal cupboard and...” Sighing and reaching into one of the holes in the sofa, he pulled out one of the rubber bullets that Red Hood used and had been there for who knows how long. “This! There are rubber bullets everywhere. Bullets I've seen you use.”

 Okay, so he might like to hide guns in certain parts of the place for extra security. And maybe he was a little sloppy with his bullets sometimes.

 “You have the same boots, pants and jacket in your closet. I even found your helmet once!”

 The excuse it was from a Halloween costume may not have been as convincing as he believed.

 “You speak the same way, you move the same way, you have the same height and constitution.” Tim continued listing. “Even the first night you saw me as Red Hood, you flirted with me.”

 He did?

 Maybe yes.

 “I knew it from the beginning and still accepted it. I knew the reason you were hiding it and I respected your decision to not tell me until you saw necessary.” Again, Tim began to look distraught, his eyes watering again. “But that's not what I was talking about.”

 Confusion arose again for something quite different. Because if Tim, his intelligent and precious detective, had known and accepted his other life from the beginning, what was going on? Why was he angry?

 “Then what were you talking about?” He asked fearfully, again the bad feeling settling in his being.

 Tim hesitated, shifted in his seat, and his lower lip trembled again, looking much more distressed than before, about to burst into tears.

 “I'm talking about you spending Saturday night at a 5-star hotel. Enjoying the restaurant and the suite for couples with another person.” He said and barely tried to control his voice. “The bank has reported recent suspicious movements on your card, when I asked half an hour ago it took me to the hotel, which asked for your assessment of your stay there and confirmation of another reservation this week.”

 Tim’s voice broke at the end and Jason started to panic much more than before.

Shit, shit, fuck, shit.

 “Tim this isn't-”

 “What it looks like?” He cut him off, trying to compose himself. “So, what is it?”

 Jason rubbed his eyes nervously. It really wasn't what it seemed, dammit. He knew what Tim was thinking, what anyone would think, and he understood his reaction. But he would never cheat on Tim, not like that, not feeling what he feels for him, not wanting to...

 “I know what you think but-”

 “But what? What should I think?” He asked again, his hands shaking.

 It was clear that he had cried, and he was trying not to do it again at this moment, the way he was getting more upset indicated that, he wanted to stay strong. And Jason didn’t know what to do, because he couldn’t deny anything and couldn’t explain it the way he wanted without making it seem even more suspicious, he knew that Tim’s self-esteem problems didn’t help the situation at all, he was among the sword and wall.

 “I went there, but not for what you think.” He began to explain, also nervous.

 Tim ended up getting off the couch, shaking his head vigorously and pacing in front of the living room table, like a caged lion.

 “With whom?” He asked then, almost in pain. “Nightwing?”

 “Wh-”

 “Arsenal?”

 “No!”

 “Starfire?”

 There he said nothing. About his brother and his best friend, he could deny it, but not with Kory. He went to the hotel and the restaurant with her, it was true, but not as more than friends. What’s more, he didn't even spend the night there, leaving the Tamaranian woman alone in the suite with one of Bruce’s credit cards to do whatever she wanted while he left on patrol and then returned home.

But Tim didn't know that, all he had was that brief silence on his part that told him he was correct, and that immediately broke him when he understood.

 Turning around, Tim rushed down the hall to their room, letting out a sob and not stopping to look back. Jason followed him without hesitation, frantic, guilt hitting him more and more along with the fear of losing him.

 “Tim!” He called him. “Listen to me, please!”

 They entered the room, Tim going straight to the closet and searching through his clothes. He knew what he was doing, he wanted to get his things and leave as soon as possible, he didn't want to be there to break even more, but Jason couldn't allow it.

 “We didn't spend the night together!” He explained grabbing the closet door and trying to get him away from there. “It’s not what you think.”

 Tim shook his head and rubbed his eyes, his breathing uneven, with no choice but to let him close the closet as he sobbed.

 “No, Jason, I get it.” He started to say. “It’s heroes’ stuff, I get it…”

 “What?” He asked confused. What was he talking about? Heroes stuff?

 “S-She’s a hero. Fuck, is Starfire, and I'm just a civilian...” He continued saying as he looked at the ground, almost looking resigned. “She can understand things that I don't, understand you on a level that I can't, and you don't have to lie to her or pretend to be anything else with her.”

 Jason opened his mouth and then closed it, stunned. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, it was surreal.

It was true, most of the heroes ended up dating others in the community, but it didn’t always have to be like that. Secret identities, lies, and danger often ruin relationships with civilians, but other times, if you wanted to, they could work. Damn, the fucking Superman had a family with Lois Lane, also Flash, many others, he was not exactly lacking examples.

And Tim thinking for a single second that he couldn’t make him happy for not understanding that part of his life, compared to other people, not only hurt him, it made him angry. If he knew how much he had helped him, how much his life had changed, how happy he made him…

 “So, it’s okay. Don't worry, I really understand.” Tim continued, even in that resigned and sad tone. “I'm sorry I wasted your time...”

 That was the drop that filled the glass.

 Tim saying something like that, crying in front of him and saying that he understood it despite how much it hurt him, broke him inside. And that he really believed as a result of all this that he hadn’t been able to make him happy, that those two years together had been a lost time and not the best in Jason’s life, made him make the decision to send everything to hell and act. Fuck everything.

 As Tim tried to hold back his tears and dry the ones that ran down his face, he silently approached his nightstand to pull out what he had been hiding for months, then turned back to him, determined.

 “Tim, listen to me.” He started to say as he approached him again. The younger didn’t dare look at him. “I invited Kory to those places because I needed to know her opinion about them. She’s one of my best friends and the person with the best criteria I know about that kind of things, but we couldn't access there without a reservation, so I had to take her.”

 Tim sniffed again and the tension in his shoulders eased a little, he seemed to be listening intently, almost hopefully.

 “I didn’t spend the night there; I was on patrol. You can check it, I faced Mr. Freeze in the town hall square, there are videos and reports about it. And if that’s not enough and you don’t believe me now, you can ask Starfire personally later.” He explained getting closer, surrounding the bed, and placing himself in front of him. “The thing is, I did all that behind your back because I really needed her advice and help.”

 Tim rubbed his eyes, still without looking at him.

 “For what?” He asked in that weak, broken voice.

 “Look at me.”

 What Tim saw when he finally dared to look up, was Jason kneeling in front of him and showing him an engagement ring.

 “Timothy Jackson Drake, do you want to marry me?”

 Time seemed to stop completely; Tim's eyes couldn’t open more because of the impression. Jason swallowed hard and buried his nervousness to continue speaking.

 “I’ve been wanting to ask you for months, but I really didn’t know how. I don't care if you are a civilian or not, I love you and I wanted it to be a surprise, something special.” He sighed somewhat agitated, the uncertainty at his answer was too much. “I no longer have to reveal why, but in my life I have learned that I must cling and keep by my side everything that makes me happy for as long as I can, and my happiness is you. So, what do you say?”

 Tim was still frozen, stunned because all the information he had to assimilate. Not only because Jason had not cheated on him as he thought, but he had been planning how to propose to him. He was thinking he didn’t want to be with him and then he just discovered that he wanted to spend their lives together, it was too sudden.

But despite having to go from one extreme to the other so quickly, Tim seemed to assimilate at last when those tears turned into ones of happiness and a smile began to grow on his face.

 “Yes.” He replied with a sigh of relief. “Yes, I do.”

 Jason couldn't help but smile too, happiness flooding him completely, his answer echoing in his head and brightening every part of his being. It didn't take him long to get up to catch him and hold him tight, both of them letting out a relieved laughter. Words weren’t enough.

The tallest wiped the tears of his now fiancé, with affection and devotion.

 “I should have thought how difficult is to hide something from a detective.” He said placing a lock of his hair behind his ear. “And this time you didn't even have to do much to discover me.”

 Tim smiled and shrugged, his eyes shining with love and relief. Almost seemed that he was going to cry again when he grabbed his hand and put the ring on him carefully. Jason's heart squeezed at the sight because it fit him perfectly, and it was his, all his, forever.

 When Tim leaned down to kiss him, he didn't even hesitate. He was more than willing to love his detective for the rest of his days, and he would make sure to tell him in every moment.

[33skeletons]

This is a list of all the people currently available

If this blog gains any real traction, I’ll add more... but until then, I don’t want to get too carried away until I’m 100% sure that the effort is worth it. I hope y’all understand

Name: Deydra Age: 18 Likes: ice cream, yaoi, drawing, roleplay dislikes: rude people, coffee, people putting words in her mouth, XP, Punk Bio: She’s in an open relationship with Scruff. she’s mute, but doesn’t know sign language, so she communicates via charades. She’s a low key perv, but tends to feign innocence.

Name: Friday Age: 22 Likes: flirting, coffee, making people flustered Dislikes: tea.... that stuff’s too mild, spicy food..... are you fucking insane!?! Bio: This tall drink of water is not for the feint of heart. He knows all the right buttons to push to reduce you to a blushing puddle. He has a goofy sense of humor and will often make a complete fool of himself just to make people at least crack an amused smile.

Name: Manga Age: 24 Likes: being pampered, the finer things in life Dislikes: getting dirty, being treated like a commoner Bio: This Miss Priss is a purebred with a pedigree. She believes herself to be an aristocrat and deems those of lower standard to be “plebian filth” and below her. Quick witted with a sharp tongue to boot, she’s not the nicest person to be around unless you can meet her high standards.... or give her a bottle of fancy ketchup. She has a weakness for tough guys that can match her mental capacity and hold intricate conversation with her.

Name: Punk Age: 32 Likes: What’s it to ya? Dislikes: Like you’d like ta know! Bio: he’s quite stand-off-ish and likes to keep people at arms length as much as he possibly can. He gets along with very few people and likes to shroud himself in mystery, the less you know, the better for him. He’s a wild card that enjoys throwing people for a loop at every turn.

Name: Scruff Age: 19 Likes: protecting Deydra, spicy food, tea, cuddles Dislikes: sushi, bone broth Bio: he and Deydra are in an open relationship. He cares more about Deydra than his own life. He’s a tad stand-off-ish towards anyone he doesn’t know. He tends to act as a translator for Deydra when someone doesn’t understand what she’s trying to say. All the scars on his face and his gold fangs are all from fighting to keep Deydra out of harm’s way. Wherever Deydra goes, Scruff is never very far.

Name: XP Age:15 Likes: destruction, being an asshole, getting what he wants Dislikes: being told no, having to be nice, things he destroys being fixed Bio: This edgy teen just wants the world to burn. He strives to hurt people any way he can and often ends up getting beaten senseless by Scruff when he targets Deydra. Being an Error Nightmare, he can use both Error strings and Nightmare tentacles to bring about destruction and pain, though he normally keeps the tentacles hidden as not to instantly rouse suspicion from his targets seeing as most actively avoid Nightmares, but are okay with Errors, though he can’t hide the goop that covers his right eye, which gives away his other half if anyone’s attentive enough to put two and two together in time

Name: Hokori Age: 23 Likes: food, blood, peanuts Dislikes:..... meh Bio: With his hood up, he appears to be a Dust Sans, but with his hood down it reveals a large gash in his skull and allows him to pass as your average Horror Sans. He’s volatile and unpredictable, but the fastest way to this skeleton’s proverbial heart is lots of food. He’s a bottomless pit with an insatiable apatite. If he’s out on a killing spree and has decided to target you, your best bet at escaping is to toss a handful of some kind of small, easily scattered snack such as peanuts. He’ll stop and start picking up and eating whatever you threw like James Woods from Family Guy. He’s also a bit of a perv once he’s deemed you not worth the energy of killing.

Name: Calibri (left) Age: 21 Likes: shredding sick riffs on her guitar, rapping, beating the snot out of assholes that need a checkup with karma Dislikes: Assholes, people calling her fat... I’m a queen with more curves than you know how to handle!!! get it right, fuckers!!! Bio: This badass, bodacious babe is one of Gears’s twin daughters. She’s got a sailor’s mouth with an alcohol tolerance to match. She’s hot-headed, but also mediates when her sister Chiller is too angry to see straight and starts edging too close to the line when putting her foot down. Calibri is sexy and she knows it with a ride or die attitude. She don’t need no man to take care of her, no sir! She’s perfectly capable of paying her own tab and fighting off a group of thugs that don’t know how to take no for an answer! She, her sister, and her mom can play Through The Fire And Flames on their guitars. Name: Chiller (right) Age: 21 Likes: playing guitar with her sister Calibri and mother Gears, reading Dungeons and Dragons books Dislikes: movie adaptations of books, live action adaptations of animations, assholes, being angry Bio: Chiller’s a badass babe in her own right. She survived being hooked up to a car battery and has the scars to prove it. She’s a lesbian and proud, and prefers taking on the dominant role in a relationship. Her pain tolerance is incredibly high. She enjoys hip hop, interpretive and break dancing, and is one heck of an archer with nearly dead shot aim. She’s normally stoic and very blunt with her words, preferring to only speak when necessary. She’s a natural born pack alpha.

Name: Sparkle Age: 41 Likes: anything sweet, bright colors, J-pop, K-pop Dislikes: anything bitter, having to get violent, seeing others get hurt Bio: she may look all sunshine and rainbows, but she can punch like a freight train and sometimes forgets her own strength. She suffers from hypoglycemia and has to keep sweets and candy on her person if she leaves the house, though she will gladly share them if you ask. She enjoys baking, and can often times be found doing just that out of boredom, not that anyone has been complaining. She may appear frail, but she can tank hits like a champ so long as said hits don’t come from a sharp object or gunshot. Her twin sister is Shade. She has a problem with producing more magic than her body can handle, so her sister comes in handy for that issue.

Name: Shade Age: 41 Likes: star gazing, dark colors, bitter and robust flavors, Evanescence (she knows all of their songs by heart) Dislikes: sweets, bright light, satanists Bio: Miss Doom And Gloom here is a wiccan highly skilled in her practice. She has the ability to leech magic from other monsters because she has no magic of her own to use, so she uses the magic of others, though mostly the excess magic her sister overproduces. She doesn’t enjoy getting her hands dirty in a fight,.... good thing she wears gloves! She’s rather soft spoken, but make no mistake, she has an outside voice and will not hesitate to use it if someone’s getting on her nerves. She mostly uses defensive magic to protect others, though she knows attack spells purely for the defense of herself and others should it be absolutely necessary. She also knows basic healing magic, though she can only heal minor injuries.

Name: Aiden Age: 40 Likes: pain, meat, grunge and screamo Dislikes: pop music, allergy season, Bio: This sharp toothed masochist ADORES pain, both receiving and inflicting. She got so mad once, she ruined her voice, so now she sounds like she smokes a pack a day. She’s very fast, agile, and super flexible since she’s double jointed EVERYWHERE!!! She has three rows of those razor teeth and a tongue which is so long it can act as an extra limb, which she enjoys showing off to freak people out via picking up objects such as cups, keys, pencils, and even going so far as to balance on it. She has very bad allergies, so she smells by flicking her tongue out like a reptile. Her spit and other bodily fluids are highly acidic. She’s normally chill, but it’s still obvious she’s a bit unhinged.

Name: Gears Age: 40 Likes: hot sauce, children, playing his acoustic guitar, working on cars, blacksmithing, learning new things Dislikes: sitting still for too long, sweets, water, cold, rude people, being alone Bio: Gears is a country boy that enjoys staying in top physical shape and keeping his hands and mind busy at every chance he gets. He’s just as strong as Sparkle, but slower. He has fire magic that when not fighting to keep others safe, he uses to forge metal as a freelance blacksmith. He carries a ridiculously enormous wrench forged from the hardest metal known to man that he uses as a melee weapon. Fire doesn’t harm him, but water sure as heck does (but he can drink things like koolaid and soda and be perfectly fine... just no water on it’s own or saline solution)!!! He bleeds ferrofluid, which he can manipulate, harden, and liquify at will as a last resort in a fight or to keep his injuries from deterring him too badly. He’s a bit of a himbo, but not as dumb... he just has his moments where “me brain am no werk so gud” and it’s evident when he starts having Freudian Slips in whatever he’s trying to say or his response to a question is “uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhm...... wait one...... run that by me again?”. Gears was around during the great human monster war, which in his AU the humans sealed them in the mountain, but chased them till they were backed against the barrier, but the monsters hit a massive stroke of good luck and managed to take back the underground with the help of Frisk. Being a war veteran that has seen things no one should ever have to, he suffers from PTSD. Gears has a soft spot for children, and will often babysit for others if they ask.

Name: Sketch Age: 40 Likes: drawing, painting, coloring, blood, sketching,..... what? Dislikes: ......... what were we talkin bout? Bio: Sketch is an unhinged scatterbrained clutz of an aspiring artist.... with a dark side. She’s a low-key sadist that’s developed a taste for blood. Once you piss her off, stopping her is like trying to stop the Doom Guy.... just... stay out of her warpath and pray to whoever you pray to that you’re not the one she’s storming towards. She’s a MASSIVE perv and will openly stare at whatever she sees that she likes a little too much, even known to get handsy when the person doesn’t take the hint. She often loses track of important things like her phone, keys, ect and loses her train of though every now and then or feigns it to skillfully dodge questions and conversations she’d rather not be having.

Name: Rave Age: 42 Likes: singing, dancing, fashion and most importantly BOOOOOOOYYYYYS~ Dislikes: ..... depends on the situation, really~ Bio: A flamboyantly gay vigilante is also a medic with powerful healing magic. Rave is fleet of foot and deathly quiet when sneaking up on someone and with enough stamina to outrun most of his targets. His weapon of choice is a glowstick staff. Wanna hear what he sounds like? Go to youtube and look up any nightcore male version of any Ke$ha song and that’s what he sounds like. Rave likes looking hot AF and can frequently be found rocking women’s punk, pop and grunge style clothing and looking damn good in it and some eyeshadow, eyeliner, and mascara. He prides himself in keeping himself as healthy and fit as he possibly can at all times. He unironically likes pumpkin spice anything, peppermint bark lattes, and kale chips. 

Name: Dante Age: 42 Likes: children, Italian food, guns, cigars, wine, bourbon, being a wise guy mobster, Helping others.... so long as they help someone else in return that is.... sorta like.... paying for the person behind you in a drive thru where it starts a chain reaction of people paying for the next person’s meal..... little acts of kindness make the world go round, y’know.... and I’m a charitable man. Dislikes: rude people, having to go “Melancholy”, Bio: This Mafiatale Ganz (GZTale Sans) is the don of his own mafia that deal in guns, alcohol, and providing protection to those who come to him on the day of his sister's daughter's son's niece's nephew's grandmother's sister's wedding-..... pffffft hahaha!!! Just kidding! He has no blood relatives besides his brother Leon, but this group of people (everyone in the two pictures above this) are like.... illegitimate family.... adoptive you could say. Dante’s great with kids. He and Gears are the best at babysitting and often work together to help lost children find their families again when they’re out and about. Dante enjoys giving back to the community as much as he possibly can, even spending his free time doing volunteer work and donating funds to the city. When Dante gets a custom order on a gun, he has Gears forge it for him and focuses on the fine details, dip dying, engraving and making custom bullets to match.

Name: Anomaly Age: immortal, frozen at age 23 Likes: helping others, traveling to other AUs, fruity alcohol, karaoke, JAPANESE FOOD!!! Dislikes: spicy food, beer, celery, mushrooms, country music Bio: Anomaly has ben around for god knows how long. They are bigender. They have wings and horns (cause They’re a fallen angel) but prefers to hide them away. 40 years ago, they decided to create their own AU as a safe haven for anyone trying to escape danger, though danger seems to find their little safe haven more than they’d like to admit. It was around this time they discovered forgotten AUs and ones being destroyed or deleted and decided to try to rescue as many people from them as they could, bringing them back to populate their AU Crossroads, aptly named due to it being a meltingpot of the multiverse and still growing in size and population to this day. The 9 skeletons listed above were the first 9 they ever rescued and they became like their own kids. They’re a goofball, but make Them mad and you’ll feel their wrath! Skilled in a multitude of weapons and fighting styles, they’re a formidable force of nature. They can shift between male and female at will, though they prefer their female form due to them being able to fit in smaller spaces, being lighter weight, and being able to doe eye and bat their eyelashes out of most situations.... plus free drinks at the local bar on Thursdays.

Name: Eros Age: 19 Likes: long walks on the beach, cuddles, his family, oreos Dislikes: rainy days, confrontation (cause it makes people afraid of him) Bio: This 10ft tall, frightening behemoth is actually Aiden’s son! Out of all the second generation, he’s the youngest of the adults, but the most responsible of the four boys, often being the voice of reason amongst them, especially when it comes to the well being of children around his idiotic cousins Etch and Scribble and often being the one to get little ZJ to listen to what he’s told by telling him going to bed on time and eating vegetables will make him grow up big and strong like him. He’s actually a little on the shy side and very humble, only hamming things up around ZJ and other small children present. He suffers from early onset arthritis and has to take medication for it to keep his joints from locking up and grinding together, but he doesn’t let it hold him down. He and his uncle Gears work out together because it helps his aching bones and because Gears turns it into fun little challenges for him to keep him going with it instead of giving up.

Name: Etch Age: 21 (but a few months younger than Chiller and Calibri) Likes: mEmEs!!!, weed, being annoying, prank wars Dislikes: being forgotten, being ignored, pain (has a very low pain tolerance) Bio: One of Sketch’s sons and Scribble’s twin brother. He’s just very lonely and wants people to pay attention to him to stave off being alone for as long as he can... whether said attention is positive or negative. When no one pays attention to him or there’s no one to keep his thoughts from wandering to dark places, he steals his brother’s weed stash and gets high... which his brother hates because Etch could easily go to a doctor and get his own prescribed to him, but Etch fears the doctor’s office more than death and adamantly refuses to go, even hiding or running away at the mere mention of it. Etch tried to get a tattoo once.... he went into it screaming like a badass Viking, but before they could even roll up his sleeve to start, he ran out blubbering like a baby. He’s the most irresponsible one in the entire family and is always the one to cause major problems because of a bad idea he thought was good at the time. He ends up in bad situations a lot and finds himself with the wrong crowd more often than not, but lucky for him he has a family full of badasses that come to bail him out of any situation before he ends up hurt too badly.

Name: Scribble Age: 21 (but a few months younger than Chiller and Calibri) Likes: memes, weed, hanging around Etch, Eros and ZJ, cuddles Dislikes: when Etch steals his weed, when Etch gets into trouble, pain (another with very low pain tolerance, looky there! But he has literally no tolerance for pain.... he screamed when he got those piercings)  Bio: Scribble suffers from anxiety and clinical depression and was prescribed marijuana to treat it. He and his brother were home schooled after freshman year of high school due to Etch pissing off the entire football team and them all ambushing the brothers in the locker room after gym class and um... let’s just say Etch got over it and Scribble still fears .....backdoor intimacy after what the football team did to them. Scribble is unable to protect himself and is a firm believer in pacifism. In times of battle, Scribble acts as a messenger, able to write notes in magic ink that can only be seen by it’s intended recipients. He normally just rolls with whatever Etch is doing or does what he’s told to avoid a conflict.

Name: Spritle Age: 20 Likes: Cheesy romance, dark humor and morbid jokes, rainy days Dislikes: removing her death touch nullifying necklace, people sexualizing her right off the bat, people underestimating her because of her appearance Bio: This brightly colored reaper girl is one of Sparkle’s daughters. She prefers to blend into the background and not be the center of attention if she can help it. Yes, her freckles are rainbow colors. She’s more on the proper side like her aunt Shade and enjoys a relationship if it’s not centered around perversion. She’d rather spend the day cuddled up on the couch watching disney movies, eating pizza and sharing a drink with two straws. She really likes nostalgic and retro things like 50′s diners and drive in movies. If you’re with her and intend on asking her out, doing old school gestures like laying your jacket over a puddle so she won’t step in it is the quickest way to win her over.

Name: Pixie Age: 19 Likes: when any guy is interested in her, when soon to be reaped souls try to run from her sister (It gives her something to do), sushi Dislikes: When people think she’s a child because of her nearly flat chest and high pitches voice, How her big sister has a bigger bust than her (Sprilte: Hey, if I could switch with you, I would! These things hurt my back!) Bio: Sparkle’s youngest daughter. Her father was an ErrorFellSwap Papyrus. She works with her sister as a chaser. Her job is to chase after, disarm and detain souls that refuse to be reaped when their time comes via trying to fight death or outrun it and thus trying to fight/run away from Spritle. Pixie is the first ever chaser on record and was the one who proposed the idea to the reaper council to keep reapers from tearing their bodies up to do their job. Chasers can be identified by a little white cross on their clothing or accessories and are required to be fast runners and ferocious fighters. Pixie has the speed and ferocity of a FellSwap Papyrus and is able to use her error strings to easily take weapons from your hands and tie you up to await the cold bite of Spritle’s scythe or claw blades. Pixie enjoys puzzles, her favorite being rubix cubes.

Name: ZJ Age: 4 Likes: coloring, playing outside, hanging out with the older boys, spending time with uncle Gears and uncle Dante, when his momma reads to him, hide and seek, COOKIES, CAKE AND CANDY!!! Dislikes: When people are mean and hurt others, vegetables, bed time Bio: Shade’s adopted son. ZJ is shy, yet a hyperactive ball of energy that likes to hang around with Etch, Scribble, and Eros. He has wisdom beyond his years thanks to his mother reading college level literature as his bedtime stories, but he has trouble articulating his words from the first three years of his life being spent with everyone baby talking him. When he doesn’t know how to respond to something, he just reacts by screaming “I DUNNO WHAT’S GOIN ON!!!” the same happens when he gets overwhelmed, but it’s accompanied by him hiding behind the nearest trusted adult.

FEEL FREE TO START SENDING ASKS AND RP STARTERS!!!

[angelsonthesideline]

Tales From the Ex-Crypt Vol. 9

Wow.. volume 9.. I'm going to wrap it up with this one because I really don't want to live in the past or think about any of these people any more. I'm happy, even if Mr HTG is still not officially mine, I only want to look forward and these crypts will be closed. There are definitely more stories than the ones I've written here.. but this is the one that people are like "NO.. that only happens in movies!"

So, I was minding my own business at work when one of my regular customers walked in with a friend. They had been at a dinner party, and started talking about winter tires, and my customer said that the friend had to come see me for tires, and proceeded to bring him in. His friend wasn't someone who really stood out to me, there was nothing remarkable to me about him. He was nice enough, mild mannered, tall, blue eyes, great smile (I'm a sucker for eyes and smiles) and we went over some tire options. I sent them on their way with the friend having his quotes in hand.

I didn't really think anything more of it, it was busy (snow) season and I was plenty busy. A week or so later, the friend comes back, he had decided on some tires and steel wheels and put his deposit down on the order. I wrote up the order, and handed him his copy, when he asked "so when do I get to see you again?" and my smart ass responded with something to the effect of when he got his tires on.

I hadn't really paid any attention to him prior to that moment, and he wasn't my "type" at all. I went home, and something kept nagging at me about him, so I sent him a text after getting his number off his order slip. This is not something I generally do, but since he'd already asked me out, I didn't feel like I was overstepping. This was also 10 years ago.

I didn't hear anything back until the Monday, when I got a profuse apology for the delay, and the excuse that he had had his phone stolen while having lunch on a patio over the weekend in a busy tourist town.

We started talking regularly, he came in and got his snow tires in the meantime, and we hung out for our first "date". He told me he was on a joint task force for terrorist threats between the FBI and CSIS and had to travel often as the supervisor of his unit. He said he would try to see me as often as possible but that it wasn't always a lot of time. I didn't mind, as I was busy and we facetimed and talked by text and phone. I never felt neglected.

We dated for a year, our relationship was amazing, we got along so well, and he made me strive to be my best self. I lost a ton of weight, was eating well, and made an appointment with my doctor to get my mental health in check.

We never had sex, we just had incredibly hot makeout sessions. I always thought it was odd that he didn't want to go any further, but he said he had had a bad experience and wanted to wait until we were married. As he was on the smaller side, I figured that had something to do with it, but I was so absolutely in love by that point it didn't really matter.

He had all sorts of pics of him in his flack in his suits, in the cars, with the guns, or just in offices. I'd get a text or call saying he was flying in and was driving to see me, but would only have about an hour or two to spend with me before he had to get back to his team and back on the road. It kept things exciting, and I loved surprise visits when he'd text me at work that he was outside.

I wanted to see him more, of course, especially as things got more intense between us. But it was always a matter of time for him. No matter how awful other things in my life were going, whenever asked how things with him were, I would immediately brighten and say they were amazing.

My anxiety was getting to a very dysfunctional level, and I was struggling hardcore to manage it. I went to the doctor, he arranged for me to begin therapy. He was supportive when I told him. This was around our 1 year together. But the next time I got to see him, I got doused with ice water, when I gifted him with an expensive watch and he told me he wanted to take our relationship back a step because of his schedule. His reason was that I was amazing and I deserved to be able to pursue someone who could give me everything he wasn't able to due to his job. I was blindsided and devastated. Because I loved him so much, and was dumb, I agreed to try. I'm an absolutely all-in or all-out type of personality, there is no grey middle ground for me. It is why I do struggle with FWB and casual arrangements, unless I have mentally steeled myself to be all-out and just enjoy the moment without feelings.

My first year of therapy and into my second was almost fully dedicated to dealing with this trauma. I have never had a break up so devastating. I am pretty sure most of the damage came from the shock, but also from the "trying" to move forward with him flitting in and out of my life instead of just cutting clean ties.

I cried a lot.. I was so stressed my cortisol levels caused my body to produce more than double the healthy level of reverse T3, completely messing up my thyroid and metabolism, I gained weight, lost energy and all the other fall out. It took me years to recover, and moving to NS and stumbling upon a doctor who treated the thyroid issues (which seem to be back in working order now after some thyroid hormone therapy).

I have never ever let someone have so much impact on my life, and the only reason I can ever explain it with was just the depth of love I had for this man. I don't even know why or what sucked me in, beyond his confidence and charm. He was one of the many devil Aquarius that I dated, always trying to prove the zodiac/astrology stuff was absolutely wrong (because I am generally SO drawn to Aquarius and have dated that sign more than any other). The zodiac definitely kicked my ass with Aquarius to show me that I fucked around and found out the hard way for sure.

We did the on and off/casual thing for 6 months before it was too toxic and messed me up too badly and I cut him off. It was about 6 months later he crawled back, and we tried it again for about another 6 months before I broke again and cut him off permanently.

I tried to not think of him, and started trying to move on with dating. My longterm ex and I had become gaming friends again by this point, in a mostly healthy and functional way. He had asked me to get an app called Voxter so he could send me voice messages (pre-imsg) and I had. You have to make an account to use Voxter though, and then the app itself didn't pick up my soft voice so I deleted it. But the account remained.

One day, I get an email that I have a new suggested contact/friend on Voxter. I open the email, and low and behold, it is Mr Aquarius Devil... and I'm like "hmm.. I don't have any of his new contact information in my phone" so I go to my computer and open my gmail.. start typing in his name and up pops this picture:

The fucker was MARRIED... and had a KID.

I will say, that was the BEST closure ever.. I was INSTANTLY over his ass instead of lamenting WHY it hadn't worked and what I had possibly done wrong. What I had done wrong, was fall for a fucking dirtbag.

Now, I work with the public.. and I had lots of regular customers that would ask me how I was and what was going on with me, and share what was going on with them. I was angry, and I showed a few of them this pic and was like "look at this fucker, he has a WIFE and KID" and I think it got back to him.

Two weeks after I stumbled upon this picture on his gmail, I got a full confessional email from him.

Turns out, he had been married for 12 years, and his son was 7 at the time I found out. Not only that, but he wasn't in law enforcement, HE WAS A PASTOR.. He had also gotten busted for sleeping with two women in his congregation, and fooling around with two others. He had lost his congregation and his church was sending him out west to some rehab. His wife was staying with him, and moving out there with him. He basically said it was all a lie (everything) and that his therapist said he had to write apology letters and explain himself to his victims (like myself). He said it was an ego trip to compensate for low self esteem. So basically, I was just an ego boosting toy for him.

A year later, I received a random text message from a southern Alberta phone number. I am guessing it was his wife, as all it said was "Have you been in contact with J***?" and I was like "J*** who?" and never heard anything ever again. But I am sure he was already back to his old tricks.

[buckysforeverprincess]

Can Our Love Survive? Ch. 19

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 2086

Warning: Drug use-marijuana, talk of sex

A/N: I am so sorry about not sticking with my schedule. So, I’m not gonna say much, just let you read. Enjoy!

***TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED***

The holidays came and went, and before you knew it, spring had almost sprung. Things had settled down and everyone found a routine that worked out, all of you doing your part to get things done. It wasn't all sunshine and roses, but the frustration was minimal and usually came from you and your twin and those things always worked themselves out.

Shortly after Bucky had moved in, he told your mom he wanted to get a job to help with the money situation. He knew having the extra person in the house would be a financial burden on her and he wanted to do his part. Sarah Rogers, the bad ass she was, was having none of that. “Your education is more important than a few extra dollars. I'll worry about the money, you worry about getting good grades,” she told him over dinner one evening. There was no winning against Sarah and the conversation was quickly dropped, never to be brought up again.

What none of you knew was Sarah Rogers was already receiving a check each month, courtesy of one George Barnes. When George returned from his getaway, Sarah went to the Barnes home and had a not so nice conversation with the deadbeat douche. Since George had abandoned and neglected his sixteen-year-old son, it was in his best interests to cooperate and pay monthly for his son’s expenses while staying in the Rogers home. George did not want Child Protective Services involved or anyone for that matter and he wasn’t about to have his image tarnished or his name slung through the mud, so letting the money go was the best way to not have to deal with his son and that’s something he could live with.

George also had no problem signing over guardianship of James to Sarah, having no desire to parent Bucky. Sarah was willing to step up and be legally responsible for the boy and felt he’d been neglected enough by the people that called themselves his parents. It was time an adult took an interest in him, nourishing and encouraging him along the way, making him aspire to achieve greatness and know his worth. Sarah Rogers would always go the extra mile for her kids, and she’d already accepted Bucky as one of her own.

March had just begun, and with that came Bucky's birthday. You were happy to spend his seventeenth birthday with him, but there was more to it than that. His birthday marked your five-month anniversary. It wasn't a six-month milestone people normally celebrated, but you wanted to make it special and memorable for the both of you.

It’d been five months and sex still hadn’t happened between you. Bucky was amazing at not pushing and letting you take the lead but it didn't mean all things were off the table. You've seen this dick, touching it and stroking him to orgasm, hand jobs becoming a normal occurrence in your bedroom. And in return, Bucky brought you to climax courtesy of his tongue and boy did he know how to use it! Your vagina had the pleasure of getting really acquainted with the masterpiece that was his mouth and he completely ruined you for anyone else in the future.

Even though you'd shared those intimacies, you still couldn't bring yourself to have penetrative sex. You'd tried several times, but it just wasn't happening. Bucky said it was okay, and was never upset, but you felt like a failure. How could you touch his cock and let him eat you out, but the moment his cock comes anywhere near your vagina, you freak! You needed help getting through this and needed someone to talk it out with.

 Pulling out your phone, you went to your messages and brought up the conversation with your best friend, typing out a message and hitting send.

Y/N: Nat, I want to have sex with Bucky.

Nat: Well hello to you too, sunshine.

Y/N: Yeah, hi. Back to my original problem…..

Nat: Is that a question?

Y/N: Nat!!! Help me!!

Nat: You put the weed in the coconut and light that shit up.

Y/N: OMFG!! Fuck off… wait, you have weed?

Nat: *sigh* Well, unless you want to body swap, I'm pretty sure you're on your own.

Y/N: Ugh! Why are you so difficult?!

Nat: Because, I am the love of your life, (not Bucky. I've been with you longer), and the only one that puts up with the needy bitch you are.

Y/N: Then help me!!!!

Nat: You're so whiny. Take a fucking xanax already!

Y/M: I did, not helping!

Nat: Then eat a dick and shut your bitchy mouth.

Y/N: I can't… Bucky's not home!! And it's not my mouth that's talking, it's my fingers.

Nat: Then put them in your vag and leave me alone.

Y/N: Fine, you're not my BFF anymore. Guess I'll be giving myself to Bucky forever. You can no longer have my body when I die.

Nat: Shut up snatch, I'm on my way.

Y/N: Bring weed?

Nat shows up twenty minutes later, kisses you on the cheek and hands you a baggy. “DO NOT let your mom know! Momma Rogers will murder me!”

 “I'll just blame it on Clint. He came over the other day smelling like skunk. Mom rushed them to the hospital and had ‘em drug tested. Steve's grounded by the way, if he didn't tell you already. He also lost his car for a month and mom is making him volunteer at the hospital.”

 Nat shakes her head and the two of you head to your bedroom, locking the door behind you,

lighting some candles and opening the window. Nat takes a joint out of the bag and lights it up, inhaling deep and handing it over. You repeat the process and the two of you continue passing it back and forth, not saying a word until you feel the drug take over.

“So, you wanna have sex with Bucky.”

 Nodding, you take another puff. “Fuck yeah, I do.” You pass the joint back to her.

 “What's stopping you?”

 “Brock.” The name just rolled off your tongue without hesitation, mostly due to being blazed.

“I'm gonna say some shit cause we're high as fuck and it’s the only way I can say it...” she stops and glares at you waiting for approval to continue and you nod, giving her the go ahead. “Stop letting that fucker control you!! Not every dick is Brock's and Bucky seems like he has a nice size cock-”

 “It is very nice…,” you interrupt, “Oh! And big too!”

 Nat looks at you annoyed. “Don't interrupt me. Will you just fuck your man already! Once you do, I promise, you'll never want to stop.”

You sit in silence and try to process her directness. “Ok, but how?”  

 Nat rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I assume you know the logistics of fucking.” She takes another hit of the joint.

 You sigh. “I can't just be like ‘hey Bucky, stick your dick in my vagina and fuck me!’”

 “The fuck you can’t!” Nat raises her voice but then passes you the diminishing joint. “Just sit on his lap and ride him like the brahma bull he is.”

Taking another puff, you furrow your eyebrows, confusion evident on your face. “Wait… what's a brahma bull?”

 Nat rolls her eyes hard. “You know, The Rock?!”

 You shrug. “Don’t know him. Should I?”

 “Oh, my fucking god, I can’t with you!” She bursts out laughing, doubling over from the intensity.

You sit on your bed, your high at its peak, and you stare at your best friend. There's something you need to ask and now seems like the best time not knowing if you’ll ever muster up the courage to ever say these words again. “Nat… why didn't you stop me?”

 Your best friend stops and sits up, her face going slack. “Would you have listened?”

 Nodding, you lower your head. That wasn’t the only question you had but for the next one you couldn’t look her in the eye. “How long, Nat?”

 “I don't follow?”

 You look up at her, your eyes meeting hers. “Don't play dumb… how long?”

 Nat shakes her head. “Does it matter now?”

 You reach out and place a hand on top of hers. “It matters to me.”

“It changes nothing, right?!” She lifts her head and sighs. “Since middle school. I've been in love with you since middle school. Happy now? How’d you even know?!”

“I’ve always kinda knew, just had a feeling. And you should've said something. Things would’ve been a lot different and that ass bag would never have happened.”

 Nat smiles. “You wouldn't be with Bucky, because I’d never let you go.” She leans in and kisses your cheek, making you blush. “You deserve Bucky. He's your forever and I'm just your very best friend.”

 Grabbing her face softly, you look her in the eyes. “You're more than my best friend and no one could ever replace you in my life. Without you, I'd be lost. Bucky may be my forever, but you have my soul.”

Nat grabs you and pulls you into a fierce hug. “I love you, принцесса.”

 “I love you, too.” It comes out muffled.

There’s a knock at the door, making you jump out of Nat’s tight embrace. “Baby, you in there?!” Bucky’s voice comes from the other side.

 “Fuck, Nat! Hide the shit!” Nat grabs the baggie and puts it in her jacket.

 “Honey? You ok?” He knocks again and you hear him jiggle the doorknob.

 “Just a second, I'm coming!” You yell at the door. “Spray my perfume!” You point to the bottle on your dresser and watch as she grabs it and begins spraying around the room.

You move to the door and open it to see your boyfriend standing there, a look of concern on his face. “Hi!” You say, the grin on your face not hiding anything.

 Bucky eyes you and then Nat and inhales deeply. “Are you high?”

 “Who me? I don't know what you're talking about?” You try to hold back a laugh, but it doesn't work. “It's her fault!” You point at Nat but turn back to see Bucky's mad face.

 Nat shrugs. “Hey, I just supplied it, didn't tell you to smoke it.”

Bucky huffs and shakes his head. “You know if your mom finds out she'll give you a worse punishment than Steve, right?”

 You wrap your arms around his neck and put your face close to his. “So, don't tell and I'll make it worth your while.” You lean in and kiss him softly.

 Bucky rolls his eyes. “Better clean up and get the smell out. I'm not sleeping in here if it still stinks. I refuse to endure the wrath of Sarah Rogers.” He gives you a chaste kiss. “I'll go start dinner. Nat.” He tips his head and walks out, leaving you with your best friend.

“He sleeps in here now?” Nat asks and grabs her coat, putting it on.

 “Yep. Told mom we weren't having sex because I wasn't ready. He told her it wasn't a deal breaker and he could wait. Guess it was enough.”

 She chuckles. “And now you want to have sex. How fitting, just don't get caught.”

 You smirk. “Do I ever?”

Nat rolls her eyes and stands up from the bed. “I'm gonna go. Give me a hug bitch!” Nat holds out her arms and you step into her embrace.

 “Thanks for coming through and for the talk, but Bucky effectively killed my buzz.”

 Nat laughs just a little, amused by your comment. “I'll see myself out, you rest. Sleep that shit off.” She starts to walk out of your room but stops in the doorway and turns back around. “You know you really didn’t need me to talk you through this. You’re ready for the next step. Stop doubting yourself. He’s not him, never will be. Get your man and make me proud.” She winks and then disappears through the door.

 Throwing yourself on the bed you know she’s right. Bucky will never be Brock so there’s nothing to worry about. This time around it’ll mean something to both of you and things could never be as fucked up as it was when you both lost your virginity to other people. You’re ready and it’s time to give yourself completely to each other, and you know the perfect time and place to make that happen.

 * принцесса-Princess

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[nomoregoldfish]

Imagine catching Amado building secret airport in the jungle; Enemies to friends /w benefits (2/2)

This one goes out of my hands. I don’t even know what kind of monster it is now, smh. The formatting seems screwed up. Please read it on AO3 if you want. Again, if tubmlr flag the gif below, I’LL RIOT.

"Is this a date? What's the dress code? Cargo pants don't count." Amado sounds flirty when you call him the other day. It's not really his fault because you are the one who asks him out.

Since the formidable drug trafficker hasn't sent any sicario to make you disappear, you figure you still have chances to make him reconsider the plan of building an airport. You're willing to do whatever it takes to save the jungle and the ruins.

Plus seeing Amado again is not a bad idea.

You can't justify why you ignore your go-to outfit including cargo pants. Instead, you put on your tightest jeans.

You pick up Amado at four in the morning. The tall man looks sleepy and slightly confused, which is kinda cute. You offer him black coffee in your vacuum bottle. 

After the first sip, Amado turns to you with his misty down-turned eyes, "No cargo pants today?" You try not to smile, "Shut up."

You're taking him to the Palenque ruins, another Mayan site in Chiapas, just few hours drive away.

You manage to get there before the sunrise. The site hasn't opened yet but you know a secret route because you also worked on the excavation project there. 

"You have a thing for sneaking in, uh, Ms. Geologist?" You shouldn't encourage him but whatever, the banter is... fun. 

Walking with Amado in the dense mountain forest actually is a perfect date in your dictionary. Your shoes are wet with morning dew but nobody cares. Listen to birds chirping and fogs croaking in the dim light. 

"You're really not afraid of darkness, are you?" Amado sounds genuinely curious. "Why would I be? I worked on this site for years, I've known the whole place by heart." He nods, like some acknowledgement.

It's almost dawn, you look at the tinted horizon when you reach the top of the mountain. The entire ancient city of Palenque is quiet and peaceful wrapped in the jungle, reminds you why you chose what you do with your life.

"I want to show you something." It's the Temple of the Inscriptions, one of the most iconic Mayan architecture lightened up by the morning sun. Starting from the history, you explain to Amado not only the symbolic significance of the temple and the secret tomb inside, but also the epic war Emperor Pakal waged against Yaxchilán. 

Amado doesn't stop you. You keep talking, sharing your involvement in those excavation projects with him, how excited you are when a new site is discovered, how proud you felt for your team when Palenque was recognized as World Heritage Site not long ago, which meant more funds, more human resources, and better equipment for all scientists working on it for years. You want to continue to study the whole area, even several rival/ally sites in Guatemala and Belize, to find more satellite cities, battlefields, to be able to define the border of those ancient powerhouses and finally draw a map of the mysterious kingdom.

He looks at you like you're some kind of heroine. It's heartwarming but you're not sure, "So, what do you think?"

Amado's playing coy, but you're persistent. "Come on. I'm a geologist. I can't hire assassins. What else am I supposed to do to make you change your mind? Put on my most expensive dress, show off my ass, wine and dine you?"

"Though I'd love to see you in a nice dress, jeans are great, too." The northern banditote smirks, eyeing your lower body, "Plus the whole speech, I told you I love it when you talk about your job. You seem to know exactly what you're doing."

Amado doesn't promise anything. He says he'll figure something out.

You exhale deeply. At least the guy listened, you appreciate it. 

Then you find out there's nothing left in your vacuum bottle, the fucker drank all your coffee, "How am I supposed to drive back without any coffee in my system?"

Amado pulls you in for a kiss, warm and tastes much better than your shitty coffee. The fresh stubble overnight of his stings and it feels so good, you can't help cupping his face and kissing back. 

Then he announces he'd drive if you just say "El Señor de los Cielos, please." You tell him to fuck off but toss the car key to him anyway.

You haven't contacted each other after that for a while. You tell yourself it's nothing. It's not like you two have had something. 

You send people every week to monitor the construction of the airport from a hidden spot on the mountain. Meanwhile you complete the scan of the area surrounding the soon-to-be airport and find a possible target. You have to be on the ground again to confirm it. 

Unluckily you break your ankle one day in the jungle. And you don't want to put any colleague's life at risk to get near the cartel's territory. You decide to wait on Amado, you believe he's a man of his words. 

Amado surprises you one night at your camp. He jokes that a geologist can sneak into a drug cartel's property, it'd be humiliating if he doesn't return the favor. His face and neck are perfectly tanned, you want to immerse yourself in that hot chocolate. You almost jump out of excitement because you haven't seen Amado for a month. Then you remember you're confined to your desk and seat due to the injury. 

"You're expecting someone else? Ms. Geologist." Amado sounds a bit down. "I..." You want to ask him so many things. Has he figured it out? Who is in charge of the airport when he's away? And where has he been? Why does it take him so long to come back? Maybe minus the last question. It'd sound desperate. 

He says he flies from Juaréz, "One of the longest domestic flights," he claims as looking around your tent office, sketches and maps scattered all the place. When his eyes meet yours again, it's so gentle, full of fondness.

"You only want to talk about business?" He's getting close, "I just fly almost 2,000 miles and you're not even standing up. Look who's more cold-blooded than drug traffickers."

Before you realize what happens, Amado lowers his body and carries you off the chair. He doesn't touch your ankle but it still hurts when you're suddenly moved.

Amado finds out. The man in black examines your injury carefully. You never saw him so concerned before. He quickly comes to the conclusion that your injury is worse than it looks and needs better treatment. 

No, you're not gonna leave your job. You have papers to write, new budget to apply, more areas to explore. Slowly it'd recover.

"Don't you want to wade across rivers, trek through jungles, and climb mountains again? If you love your job so much, you have to get better treatment, immediately! And take some good rest. Give it a few more weeks? Oh God, you're insane." He's so mad at you.

You finally agree, and Amado insists on carrying you again to his vehicle. You know it's not your priority right now but holy fuck, he's fucking built. And you're inches away from his big nose which you've had a crush on for a while.

He's gonna fly you to the state capital Tuxtla Gutiérrez.

"You don't fly 2,000 miles just to see me, do you?" You poke him during the flight, sitting next to the sexy pilot in the cockpit is a treat. 

"Dear Ms. Geologist, remember I have a job, too?"

The pain is getting worse, Amado notices it then hands you a joint from nowhere. You're about ask whether it's legal to have weed on the plane, then you realize you're with a real drug dealer. "Not to bad to have a narcos friend, huh?" OK, you gives him that as the weed kicks in. 

"So now we're friends?" You're obviously high, and bold. Because you find your hand dangerously near his groin for no reason, fumbling. "I always wanted to touch it." You giggle. 

Amado politely removes your hand and tells you to behave.

"You know what? You could've been the most popular guy at our camp. Someone might trade blowjobs for your weed since we're just low-paid scientists and assistants." You're high like a kite.

You also "threaten" if Amado extends any further in the jungle to build more airport facilities when you're put away, you swear to God you'll...

"You'll what? Shut up and rest, cabrón. Or I'll take you directly to DF, better physicians there anyway."

And the fucker did, a day after a Chiapas physician suggests you seek the best orthopedic treatment in DF for speedy recovery.

Then Amado disappears again. You know he's probably running a drug cartel in the north, and only checking in on their hidden project near the southern border once a month or two. It's the way it is. Your lives only collide when it's meant to be. There's no fucking way you two see each other like normal people do. 

You still miss Amado, miss the banter, even his northern accent. 

During the two-month therapy in DF, you receive reports that the airport is completed, and the potential target site nearby is now a giant warehouse. You also learn a big donation is made specifically to the Yaxchilán excavation project, of course, anonymously.

That's what Amado meant by "figuring something out." You're not even mad. What's the alternate outcome when you're up against the narcos? Report it? The entire cabinet is probably in their pocket. You should be relieved that no one ends up dead during the little stupid game you played.

You can't even return the drug money because, a) you can't tell anyone where it's from; b) INAH's been underfunded for decades, the project fucking needs it, so do your colleagues.

You call that number again after you get back to the ground. You don't know how to end this, or is there anything to end? 

"Come over next weekend, I'll be there and I can explain." Amado sounds poised and calm, like he always does.

You tell yourself to keep it civil. This is a losing battle since day one.

Amado meets you in front of a warehouse, he looks great, all charming smile and open arms. All you can think of is the location of the warehouse, it must be the one. Most likely it's being buried.

"You bring flowers, how nice." It's the white birds of paradise, which suits him, El Señor de los Cielos. You tell him you're grateful for the injury advice he insisted.

"Can I show you something?" Amado opens the door of the warehouse. It all feels like yesterday, when you showed him the sunrise at Palenque, talking about your future plan. How naive were you.

Some jaw-dropping scene in front of you. The entire site of ruins, intact, locked inside the warehouse with minimal structure to shield from the rain and sunshine.

"What? You thought I'm gonna show you cocaine? No offense, baby, you can't afford the Colombian white magic. This is all you get, some fucking broken rocks with barely recognizable inscriptions." The bastard shrugs.

How did he find this site? "Sorry. Let's say I accidentally took a copy of your scan map last time at your camp, when you were busy with your ankle problem." You fucking knew it, it's never what it looked like when it comes to Amado Carrillo Fuentes.

Yet you can't believe what you just see. It is NOT real. It can't be.

That's when harsh reality kicks in. It always starts with a but. "You can't work on it, not now." Amado explains the situation and his plan for your ruins, which he thinks it's better to keep them under the radar for now. No tomb raider would dare to approach it, you can work on many other sites first.

"Then what?" You keep digging. Amado sighs, giving you a melancholy smile, "This line of work doesn't tend to last very long. It will be yours one day. Before that, it's completely safe. You have my word." 

Amado's kind of.... correct, and practical to be honest. INAH doesn't have enough resources for thousands of projects. Even with the hard work you and your colleagues pulled, it's estimated less than 10% of the total area of Palenque was explored and partially restored.

You carefully examine the site, making notes and sketches to create a hasty profile.

Amado focuses on something else, "It seems you walk just fine. Fully recovered, no rush? Good. And has your budget been approved? Got more money? I mean, the efficiency of any bureaucratic system is questionable in this country. If it still falls short, I can...." 

You can't tell if he's been an asshole or a saint, God forbid.

"For fuck's sake, I don't want your fucking money. I just, I want...." You turn around, look defeated, "Your dick, OK? Who cares about your dirty drug money? You Sinaloan monkey!"

Amado bursts into laughter, "Why don't you take both, dear Ms. Geologist?" He put your hand below his belt buckle, "I think you made it very clear last time."

"It's your fucking nose, narizón." You gently caress it, and he's getting hard beneath the fabric and it's fucking huge.

You're on your knees, trying to take Amado's full length in. Fuck, it's difficult. You're embarrassed and he's like "Shhh, it's okay, baby."

Instead, Amado's going down on you, making your knees weak af. You have to grab the stones to stand still. 

Amado eating your out with patience, salt and pepper stubble rubbing against the most sensitive part of your body which gives you more trouble, and fingering you at the same fucking time. Let that sink in for a moment.

You don't stand a chance, you come so hard.

Amado's taking you from behind, big hands on your hips to keep you still against the ancient structure. Rock into you with deep, short thrusts. You're wet for him like rivers during monsoon season. 

Your legs are shaking when he hits right at the spot again. "Wanna to make a good girl like you squirm and scream." Fuck, Amado always gets what he desires as he pulls you hair up, leaving hickeys on your neck while he fucks you thoroughly.

The best orgasm through your whole life. And the fucker is proud of it, "Told you. You'd better take both, baby. The green and the big D."

Does it mean you really gonna take money from narcos? This is so fucked up. 

Later Amado fixes you some nice margarita, casually asking if you want to join him for a business trip to Belize the next day. "I have to buy some stuff in Belmopan. Maybe we can stop by Lamanai with my private jet after that if you'd like."

How the fuck does he know you wanted to visit the Mayan ruins in a remote foreign town for years? 

The concern becomes less shocking when you see Amado buy a bunch of Boeing 727s in Belmopan like a Sunday grocery run.