#those assholes fucked this country UP in the head so badly

[a-queer-little-wombat]

And fucking yet ..... here we are.

No Christian would want this for our children

[artdcnaldson]

the ONLYYYY thing on my mind right now is what happened (or didn’t happen 😔) UNDER THAT BLANKET. can’t even imagine the energy in that room. i need a prequel horrendously badly cat 😭

Three’s Company || Art Donaldson x Reader x Patrick Zweig

Rating: E (18+)

Notes: Patrick POV, exhibitionism, very tame descriptions of fingering, sexual fantasies, masturbation

Word Count: 841

Summary: In the Fall of 2006, Patrick just wants to watch a movie with his best friend. Art, unfortunately, gets distracted. Then Patrick gets very distracted.

A/N: Mic…. This was supposed to be short 😭😭😭 but I knew I had to feed you 🩵🩵

Requests are OPEN

Patrick wasn’t paying attention to a single damn thing happening in the movie, and would’ve liked to, considering he was the one who paid the money to rent it from Blockbuster.

He was having a very hard time focusing on Channing Tatum playing soccer when you were panting beside him, hand fisted into the blanket that was covering you and Art.

Your thigh shifted, bumping against his, and you offered a sweet apology that was more of a squeak.

Art was grinning, looking like the cat who got the fucking cream while his hand moved beneath the blanket, finding a home between your thighs. Patrick couldn’t look at him, because making eye contact with Art meant acknowledging that he knew what was going on.

Art was probably doing it on purpose— the fucker. Maybe he was mad that Patrick got to have Tashi, and was making a point about having something the other person can’t. But Patrick wasn’t going around fingerfucking Tashi while Art tried to watch a movie, was he?

“I can’t fucking hear,” Patrick snapped finally, hoping if he turned up the volume on the laptop, it might cover the feeble attempts you were making to stifle pretty gasps and sighs.

He mashed the buttons on the laptop, maybe a little too hard in his urgency, but the volume spiked, barely loud enough for him to force his brain to tune you and Art out.

You leaned into Art’s shoulder, muffling your noises in the junction of his neck.

“What? You don’t like the movie?” Art teased. He pressed his lips to the crown of your head, and it was then that Patrick finally met Art’s gaze.

That smug motherfucker.

He must’ve done something particularly nice with his fingers, because a low moan slipped from your lips that you tried to pass off as… fuck if Patrick knew. It had to have been your first attempts at exhibitionism, because both of you were awful at it.

Art grinned, tilting your face to eye level. “Should we turn it off and do something else?”

“No!” You piped up quickly, eyes wide and glossy.

Patrick tried his best to conceal his annoyance and focus on the movie as Art pulled you closer and closer to the brink. Which was hard, because all of those little noises and the feel of your warm body beside him was enough to make anyone go fucking crazy.

He’d been faithful, even if Art was dubious. He hadn’t stepped out on Tashi— he would probably have a moment of clarity in some foreign country or a shitty bumfuck country club that he loved Tashi.

But it was like Art wanted him to break.

Your body was trembling, breath coming in shaky pants from your pretty, open mouth.

If things were different, he would’ve kissed you. Licked right into your mouth, let his hands wander.

Finish her off, Donaldson.

Art would have the first set, but Patrick could rally. He could always make you fall apart with his mouth. Better yet, he’d fuck you and make Art sit there like a asshole watching the goddamn movie Patrick had rented.

Art wouldn’t like it. He doesn’t like feeling left out. Whatever, Patrick would let you swallow Art‘s cock down your throat as a reward for him being so fucking ballsy in the first place.

A muffled squeak snapped him back to reality. You were panting, giggling softly in the juncture of Art’s shoulder.

Art’s cheeks were pink and flushed, and he wore a smug grin on his lips before he slipped the fingers that had just been buried inside of your pussy between his full lips. And then, like it hadn’t even happened, he reached over and grabbed his Gatorade from the nightstand. Patrick watched as he took a long drink, throat bobbing, and felt like he was going insane.

“What’s happening?” You asked, leaning over to whisper in Patrick’s ear. “I totally zoned out.”

Patrick stood suddenly and went for the door, hyper aware of his cock straining against his jeans. “Start it over, I’m gonna go smoke.”

He made it halfway to the door before Art spoke up. “Patrick?”

His voice was strained. “Yeah?”

“You left your pack.” Art was smug as he handed Patrick his pack of cigarettes— his fingertips still spit-slick when they grazed his wrist.

There was a silent exchange then. An I-Know and an I-Know-You-Know-and-I-Know-You���re-Hard. Patrick almost scowled as he snatched the cigarettes out of Art’s hands and darted out of the room.

He probably should’ve smoked. It would’ve been smarter than… well, anything else running through his brain. He settled on the shared dorm bathroom, a thin curtain of privacy in a mildly molded shower, and a spit slick hand working himself to completion.

Then a smoke.

Ten minutes later, he walked back into Art’s dorm and you smiled sweetly over at him. He sat back down, stole the popcorn from your lap, and glared at Art for good measure.

Art’s laughter made him forgive him for the whole thing anyway.

Thank you for reading!! Hope you enjoyed 🩵 let me know what you think + any other requests in the changeover universe 😚🩵

[bf-duo]

TWAU Blurb

for those who crave more content, I have this gift. This is John's point of view the morning of when Smitty takes off in a plane.

-

John found waking up on this trip easy for once. Quick; at the very least. He was up in a cold sweat, a bit earlier than his alarm. Something was gnawing at him. He takes his phone and pulls up Smitty’s phone number.

No. That’s stupid. Calling Smitty over a bad feeling in your gut?

And anyways, Smitty believes in John’s feelings too much, he’d probably be superstitious about it or something, and he didn’t need to deal with that. 

Maybe breakfast would be served downstairs already, it was worth a shot.

He takes the elevator down. It was always fucking cloudy here, if not actively raining, he thinks as he looks out the glass window. He thought that the east coast was at least moderately better about that, but he was thoroughly mistaken, apparently. 

Nobody looks at each other here, everyone looks at their phone. John almost wants to be an asshole and start a conversation, making it awkward for everyone. 

Anything to stop the grating against his back that something was wrong. Maybe he did something wrong. John lets the idea bounce around in his head.

He’s almost floating, as he’s putting badly cooked scrambled eggs and some dry sausages on his plate. Someone said to him that Boston was a clean city. John thinks that’s an oxymoron. His flight is in the afternoon, so he has some time to kill before heading home.

What could John have done wrong? Did he apologize wrong? Was he going too fast? Did he say something wrong?

He was trying to wring his brain out for the misstep he’s done. He’d done plenty before, but about yesterday? He didn’t have an idea.

It finally occurs to John that Smitty is at least awake, possibly on a plane right now, and that it would be socially acceptable to text him now, and not something stupid and clingy.

He still feels weird trying to text Smitty anything at all, now that yesterday happened.

Now that Smitty knows.

Now that John doesn’t have to pretend, to starve himself of Smitty, or break away. 

John is not someone who generally texts first, except incidentally about a meme, or if he needs something from someone. Smitty was always the exception, until a few months ago. John wants him to be the exception again. So he pulls out his phone, writes a message and presses send, trying not to think about it too much.

[Kryoz] : How’d security go? Boston is hell so I know that you might’ve missed your flight

[Kryoz] : well just the airport is hell confirmed but

[Kryoz] : actually all of boston is hell

The messages were delivered, so Smitty wasn’t in the air yet, but he could be busy. It’s not something he needs to worry about.

It’s a mantra he repeats as he goes upstairs, gets dressed and contemplates what to do before his plane ride in the afternoon.

He tags along in sightseeing around Boston, since he hadn’t been here in a long time. It was true that it was remarkably green for a city, John concedes. They were hanging around a lookout near a pond, it had trees but, really it was an urban area, John wasn’t even sure whether the pond was natural. He sees some geese up in the air, it’s the first time of the year that they’re starting to head back over to Canada. It’s not quite April yet, even. These birds were early.

John wanted to tell Smitty about it, that his country’s birds were coming home for the spring just as Smitty was. So he sends another text.

[Kryoz] : [blurry picture of flying geese surrounded by a city skyline] 

[Kryoz] : caught your kind comin back home

He lets out a groan, coated in annoyance as he waits a minute, no response. He’s still waiting on delivered. It’s been hours, Smitty is at his house for sure. Maybe he should send a message on discord, he muses. Someone speaks to him and he turns back and down to see Pezzy.

“Girl problems?” Pezzy says. John needs to get a little less obvious about his wistful sighing, apparently.

“..sure.” John really would prefer to brood alone, but it was clear that that wasn’t something that was going to happen, as Grizzy wanders over to him too. 

“God, tell me about it! I haven’t had a single good experience dating in a while. So what, you meet someone here?” Pezzy yammers at John, clearly going to continue unless John gives him some answer.

He decides to be truthful, to a point. “No, it’s someone I’ve been talking to for a while, but I think… this bitch is ghosting me.”

“Oo! Lemme see, lemme see!” Grizzy cries out, gesturing with grabby hands.

“Yeah I bet we can figure out some way to get her to respond-” Pezzy cuts in.

“Send a pic of the fit, you’re looking mighty stylish right now!” Grizzy decides, still trying to get the phone out of John’s hands without issue. John has the impulse to punch Grizzy in the stomach. He decides that would not go well for him.

John rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, both of you,” 

“Cmon, we’re great with women!” Pezzy grabs at one side of John’s phone. He holds it up in the air and Grizzy grabs it out of his hand with ease.

“Weren’t you just saying how you get no bitches?” He cuts at Pezzy. John’s words fall upon deaf ears.

Grizzy runs away with Pezzy, them both giggling as they try to take pictures of the man chasing them, that were supposed to be “attractive”. The commotion finally brings the attention of Puffer.

“Okay you two, you’ve taken the photos, it’s not like either of you two pull, give it back.” Puffer tries to take the phone as well.

“No! John, tell me your password, lemme give em the Grizzy charisma!”

“Hell yeah Grizzy, let’s see those messages!” Pezzy exclaims.

“You absolute cunt, give me my phone back! You get no bitches, I’m gonna send a witch to curse you to be alone for-fucking-ever, you fucking bastard-” John’s pissed off. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to do much more, as Puffer yells.

“BOTH OF YOU! Stop being public menaces, give John his phone back. John, say sorry.” He’s reprimanding, like an angry parent. It almost pisses John off more.

Grizzy gives back the phone, acting dopey, and Pezzy looks with a death stare. “No. Fuck that, I’m not saying sorry, they took my shit.”

“Damn arlight,” Grizzy backs off.

“Cool, never trying to help that guy again,” Pezzy half-jokes while walking with Grizzy.

“John?” Puffer says. It’s demeaning, somehow.

“No.” John spouts. It’s defiant and without doubt. He’s not going to even entertain the idea of apologizing.

“…Fine.” Puffer walks off with the other two.

John’s eyes catch Droid starting with a look that he can’t quite decipher. His eyes are wide, and he’s concealing a laugh. He looks almost like he’s about to explode. John’s a little surprised that he hadn’t also rushed him to try to ‘rizz up’ Smitty.

“Do you want to try me?” John says, while emphasizing his own death stare.

“Nope!” Droid’s voice is high pitched and full of humor as he trots off with the others, who start bantering on their own. It’s like he has a secret, knows something.

John wouldn’t know how that happened. It’s not something he wants to care about.

He looks at his phone. Even with the help of tweedle dee and tweedle dum not sending any messages, there was no word from Smitty.

After following to go to a few more places, he says goodbye to the group kindly, as if it were a wordless apology. He wasn’t really focused on sightseeing, or anything in front of him. As he sits idly in the subway, he’s contemplating whether yesterday was some ephemeral bullshit dream, or something. He’s entertaining the thought that he’ll get fifty different diseases just from sitting on the subway, even if he knows that’s not something that can actually happen. He gets to the airport. The security line in the airport is shit. He sends another message about it to Smitty.

He takes his flight home, takes a nap. He has a comeback stream, a short just chatting to update viewers. It’s… fun. He’s happy to be back. He checks his phone more than he normally does. He shows a painting he worked on right before he left. He plays some little horror game. He’s not really that invested. Maybe his viewers notice, nobody says anything. And still, no response. 

As he looks at himself in the mirror, doom dawns on him like sandpaper against his skin. It was unfamiliar. It’s a darkness that covers his body. 

A question lingers  in his conscious, momentary but crushing. Was Smitty taking revenge?

[ramblings-of-a-twentysomething]

#1

I've never used Tumblr before so I've decided I'm going to use it as some kind of anonymous diary to write about all my problems. The thought that someone could maybe read it brings me a bit of comfort, as I don't really have anyone else in my life who wants to listen to my bullshit ramblings. Thank you in advance for anyone who reads this, and I'm sorry!

Anyways, I'm horrified. I'm terrified at the current state of the world right now. I'm American (unfortunately) and a pretty outwardly presenting homosexual in a conservative area. I mean I'm not the colored hair and piercings kind of gay, but I just give off the general vibe in the way I walk, talk, and carry myself. I'm so scared for the future, as I imagine many of you homos on Tumblr are too. I'm truly just so baffled about how everything is coming out. I'm in college at the moment for early childhood education, and I've been thinking of dropping out or changing my major. I want to be a teacher SO badly, but in this country I don't think it will be viable for me. I'm a pretty clear homosexual just by looking at me, even though I'm not necessarily out to the community. I've never even kissed someone romantically, let alone have sex with anyone. (I do theatre so I've kissed a lot of people, mainly my friends and the girlies) I just don't know what's in store for me at this point. I don't really have any support from my parents, especially my father. That man, even though he has a DOCTORATE, has been so red pilled and has become such a truly heinous hateful individual. I mean he always has been a manipulative narcissistic asshole, but it has gotten so much worse. I'm so thankful I'm able to live on campus instead of at home, because I have no idea how long I could stay there. I was home over Christmas break, and it was so horrible, lowkey traumatizing. He's a public figure, and he's very smart and well articulated, so he can gaslight his way out of ANYTHING. He's a nightmare.

Anyways, I hate my college campus. Well that's not necessarily true, it's just the people on my campus. The campus itself is absolutely gorgeous, there are beautiful trees everywhere, and I love my dorm so much, and I can watch the sunset sitting right at my piano, but the people on this campus make it a living nightmare. I go to a small school with no parties or anything, so I had hoped and prayed before I got here that it was like tree hugging liberals, but alas they are not. It's a whole school full of frat boy douche bags, and bitchy holier-than-thou Christian volleyball players. Oh and Mormons! So many Mormons! (Side note: Mormons lowkey scare me. I've been approached 3 times on this campus asking me to go to their church, one time they gave me a business card with their phone number and a church address. Oh wait it says Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Those are Mormons, right? I don't really know and honestly I don't care enough to learn.)

Anyways, as someone who tends to appear and sound kinda homosexual, they really do not like me here. I'm so ostracized by everyone It's like high school all over again. I've been called a fag so many times on this campus it's not even funny. One time they poured water down the stairs on my head while I was getting laundry. Like it's CRAZY. Because of that, my mental health has had a pretty steep decline since I've gotten here. I'm just so riddled with anxiety, doing literally anything. Every single thing I do is a struggle, and it's really starting to effect me. I can't go down and eat in the dining hall, I can't just go on a walk, I can't go to the gym, or even the student center. It took me so much to just psych myself up to go to the library and print out a few papers. I did it, and I'm proud of myself! But, no one really gives a fuck, and that's fine I guess but I don't have any support from like anyone. I just feel so totally horrible, which is definitely not uncommon for me, I mean I am bipolar, but it's especially worse today. I feel like I did back in high school, not being able to get out of bed to go to school or not knowing how to talk to anyone. I'm just so damn damaged, and it's all really hitting me today. The main big part right now is how alone I am. I have very few friends, and the ones I do have don't really seem to care all that much about me. And I know it's not fair for me to want them to give me all their attention. I mean they all have significant others, so of course most of their time is going to them. But, I've been here for so long, way before they ever came into the picture, and idk I just feel like I'm being ignored. It's becoming painfully clear to me that they don't like me as much as I like them. They cancel plans, they ignore my messages, they don't really seem to care about the things I talk about or are interested in. I try to convince myself it's ok, and I'm ok with it, but I'm not. I've told them so much about how my brain works, and I feel like if they actually cared about me they wouldn't keep hurting me in the same damn ways over and over. For example, one of my favorite things in the world is voice messages. I love being able to express exactly how I feel and the cadence of my voice and all that bullshit. Plus, I hate typing over text, it's too much work. That's why I'm using my laptop to type this. Anyways, I tend to send voice messages a lot. I try to be very careful to not send super long ones, but is it such a crime to take 10 minutes out of one of your closest friends' lives to talk about something important to you? I don't know how to articulate how I feel because this specific scenario I'm thinking about happens frequently. I send long voice messages about something, and then I apologize for sending long ones because it's unrealistic to expect someone to take 10 minutes out of their day to listen to me, and they always reassure me and say oh they like it, they listen to them on their way to work, they do other things while listening, etc. So I keep sending them, and then they ignore them. Right now I have 15 minutes of one talking about something super exciting and something I was so proud of myself for doing, and they completely ignored it altogether. They ASKED ME about the thing, and I sent them as a response, but I got nothing. Everyone in my life knows I'm struggling right now. I have so so many things going on that I won't bore you with here, but long story short (too late) I'm VERY damaged. I just don't understand how these people can tell me how much they love me and ooh you're such a good friend and ooh everyone likes you and you're so cool but then doesn't give a single shit about me, or at least doesn't put in effort. If someone I cared about texted me something, even if it was stupid or mundane, I wouldn't wait a whole day to answer and then blame it on being too busy. Most of us are in the same boat with college and shit, and I know they have partners so whatever they're more busy than I am, but I can't imagine not having 10 seconds to respond to a text.

It just really feels like they don't care! I don't understand what is going on honestly because they keep me in the loop most of the time. Is it cuz they pity me or what? They have absolutely no obligation to stay connected to me. I never see them now, nothing much would change. I feel like it has to be pity. And it all just upsets me so much. I've communicated how I feel to them, and they reassure me that they actually do like me and do care, but then they don't show it, at least in the ways that I've told them are important to me. Or maybe my brain is making all this up just to fuck with me, which is a possibility. That bitch is evil. I just spend so much time alone, and it's really starting to chip away at my psyche. Don't get me wrong I like being alone, but there's a massive difference between being alone and being lonely. The only person I talked to today was a cashier at a gas station, and he didn't even talk to me, I gave my pleasant hellos and have a good day, and he just kinda looked at me, which was fine I guess. Oh and the guy at the dining hall too, who is always there and he's awesome. He's the head of the food and housing whatever the hell it's called, and he's been so so kind and awesome to me, which I truly appreciate. The only positive interaction I've had with a human being today. And that shit's tough! Especially when you don't really like yourself that much. I'm trying to work past it, but I have a lot of deep insecurity rooted in internalized homophobia that's developed because of where I grew up, in yeehaw bumfuck redneck town U.S.A. That of course led to some internalized racism that I have since conquered, but I still have a LOT of work to do. I have so much shame and anxiety just based on how I grew up, and that shit sucks, especially because i KNOW IT EXISTS BUT I CAN'T GET RID OF IT!!! Pisses me off exponentially. Anyways, I have a paper I have to write by the end of tonight, so I'm gonna stop rambling on now. If you've read this far, I deeply appreciate you you're awesome, and like I said before, I'm so sorry.

[dragon-kazansky]

Professor | Zemo + Lauda

Professor AU!

Gender neutral reader

For @lieutenantn

[Next chapter]

Part 1

University was stressful, but it was stress you would work through for your future. However, your stress just seemed to grow, and it had nothing to do with your class work.

It all came down to two of your professors.

Professor Zemo and Professor Lauda.

Both of them were incredibly handsome men who you often found yourself daydreaming about. You counted yourself as incredibly lucky to find yourself in their classes.

Helmut Zemo, your history professor. He comes from Sokovia, a country you knew very little about before learning this fact. You were his top student, but only the two of you knew that.

Niki Lauda, your languages professor. From Austria, where you have been, and would hope to go again just because this man lived there. His eyes would linger on you during class and you found it hard to keep up appearances with all your classmates around.

Both of these man had you wrapped around their fingers, but you had no idea just how bad it would become. You left your current class with Professor Zemo and headed back to your dorm.

With classes wrapped up, the teachers gathered in the teacher's lounge for lunch. There were only two teachers in there as of now. Zemo and Lauda.

The two men looked at each other.

It was no secret they despised each other. However, the reason for the hatred was a secret. No one could know they were both doting on the same student.

Both men utterly adored you.

Helmut Zemo would whisk you away during the breaks and holidays. He would take you on trips to places you had never been before, and some that you had just to create new memories with you. He would spoil you and buy you gifts. He would dance with you late at night in his office or his home. He would cook you dinner and make love to you at any ungodly hour.

Niki Lauda would take you Austria with him, show you sights. He would make you wear his jackets as he wrapped an arm around you, wanting people to know you were together. He would invite you into his office just fuck you on his desk, warning you to be quiet if you made too much noise. He would sit you in his lap while he graded papers and pepper your neck and cheek with kisses.

Niki glared at Zemo as he got what he wanted and sat down on the far side of the room. He hated him.

With graduation only days away, Niki was desperate to win you over. He wanted you come home with him and stay. He wanted you in his life so badly, but this other man was standing in his way. He couldn't have you until you let Zemo go completely.

Helmut barely paid him any mind as he tucked into his lunch. He only came to the lounge because he knew Niki would be in here, otherwise he would eat in his office.

Letting Niki Lauda have you was the last thing he would do.

"Y/N looks good today," Zemo says, knowing Niki had yet to see you today. His class with you want until later.

"Y/N looks good every day," Niki replies, still glaring at him.

"What will you do when they graduate?" Zemo's lip curls into a grin as he eyes the Austrian man.

"I shall take Y/N back home with me. I will hand in my notice and teach back in my home country."

Helmut couldn't help the laughter that tumbled from his lips. That had to be the funniest joke he had ever heard. He did not care for how much harder Niki narrowed his eyes at him.

"What's so funny, asshole?"

Helmut composed himself and smiled wickedly at him. He sat up a little more straight as he replied.

"Sorry, it's just funny you think Y/N will be going back to Austria with you. Y/N and I will be returning to my homeland. We will be very happy in Sokovia."

Niki was so pissed, he broke the pen in his hand. Ink covered his fingers as he stood up cursing in German.

Helmut chuckled at Lauda's predicament.

"That was your fault, asshole. Y/N will not choose you." Niki gathered his things and stormed out of the room.

Helmut had another good laugh once he was alone.

You made your way to class. Languages. You had been studying hard for this class, really wanting to impress Niki. He had been helping you in private... after your vigorous activities.

You were the first in the class. Niki turned around when he heard someone enter, and his face relaxed tremendously when he saw it was you.

"Y/N, can I see you after class?"

You smile softly.

"Sure. In your office?"

He nods. He can't say any more as the door opens and other students come flooding in. Throughout the class he steals glances at you. You offer him a small smile every time he looked up at you.

When class was over you lingered behind and waited for everyone else to leave. Niki disappeared into his office and you quickly followed after him, but not acting to out of it. You didn't need rumours to start from those last few studentseaving the class.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Niki pulled you over to his desk and into his lap. He had his arms around you has he rested his head against your chest. You lifted one hand to tangle in his curly hair.

"What is it?"

"Your graduation is coming soon," he says softly.

"Yes. It's come really quickly."

He sighs as he gazes up at you with his stunning eyes. You smile softly and give him a gentle kiss.

He lifts a hand to rest against the side of your face.

"What are you going to do?" He asked.

"I... I don't know."

Niki runs his thumb along your cheekbone and stares intensely into your eyes. You know what he's asking. It had been on your mind for some time now, but you didn't know what you were going to do.

How were you suppose to choose between these two men?

You run tour fingers through his curls again and sigh softly, biting at your lip in thought.

"I don't know," you said again.

Niki pulls you into a kiss and keeps you there for a moment, making it linger. He needed to feel you, taste you.

You broke the kiss and stood up.

"I need to go. I'll see you tomorrow Niki."

He doesn't want to let you go, but he has to. He has one final class to do before the day ends. However, it would be hard to focus on it when he can only think of you.

You look back at him as you leave.

You walk down the hall with your books tucked under your arm. You knew you would have make a decision because you could only have one.

....or none, but you didn't want that!

Lost in your thoughts of Professor Lauda, you were startled when someone grabbed your arm and pulled you into the nearest classroom.

Helmut pinned you up against the wall beside the door, his lips already on your neck. Your books tumbled to the floor as you snaked your arms him.

"Professor!"

He grins against your skin before pulling back so he can see your eyes. He pinned your wrists to the wall, but he was gentle about it.

"I missed you," he whispered against your lips.

You smile softly and kiss him.

"I missed you too."

He let's go of your wrists and cradles your face in his hands. He looks sad. You place your hands over his and savour the warmth they give off.

"I know what you want to ask, but the answer is, I don't know."

Helmut sighs as he rests his forehead against your shoulder. You press a kiss above his ear and lean your head gently against his. One of his hands slip into yours and his fingers curl around your own.

"I don't to want to lose you to him," he mumble.

"I know, but I don't know how I'm suppose to decide. Damn this university for hiring attractive professors," you chuckle.

Helmut chuckles with you.

He stands upright and looks at you softly.

"You can't blame us for falling for you. Who ever wins you over will be very lucky indeed. Just... don't let it be him."

"Professor... I can't promise anything."

"You have until graduation," he tells you, steeping away from you. He takes a step back and looks at you as a professor should.

A teacher looking at their student.

You turn away and leave the classroom.

Graduation was days away. You were running out of time. On of these men would be your future, but you had to decide which future you desired.

Niki Lauda was slumped in his desk chair staring at his desk. His lap felt so empty without you sitting in it. He couldn't focus on the papers on his desk as he thought of you.

Helmut Zemo leaned against the wall he had you pinned against. If you chose him he would be beyond happy. He would make a future with you far from here where he could love you completely.

Both men balled a hand into a fist.

The wouldn't allow the other man to win.

Time was running out for all three of you. Something had to be done.

@ajeff855 @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @luna-is-on-mars @wilder-fangirl @belle82devart @hb8301 @stardancerluv @killeromanoff @cathrin2405 @charistory @sleepyflutist18 @supercharged-tatertot @belle82devart @sexyundeadtrash @realremyd @goddessofmischief03 @myybebe @safiakillspop @scuttle-buttle @viviace @shura-gorl @fictionlandslanddreams @justfangirlthingies @zemosimp05 @celtic-witch-bitch @apparrio @thatoneartgalsstuff @somethingthatsaysbubbles @aloyssia

[leon-scott-kennedy]

Frostbitten

Chreon, Rated-T

Read on Ao3

Leon had barely kicked off his unbroken-in boots and flopped face-first on his bed when his phone rang. He groaned. Getting called back to the training field might kill him. Every inch of his body ached and throbbed after taking a literal beating for the last ten hours; he couldn’t be bothered to change out of his sweaty clothes, let alone shower. USSTRATCOM training was tough and the instructors tougher, but this was precisely what he had signed up for, a chance to help people, to make sure that Raccoon City never happened again.

The handset slid out of the cradle when Leon smacked it in his blind search. It hit the floor with a clunk, half suspended by the cord.

“Shit.”Leon grabbed the phone and rolled onto his back. “This better be important.”

“Rough day?”

Leon sat up, a lump forming in the back of his throat. “Chris?”

Weeks ago, Leon tracked down Chris long enough to send an email warning him that Claire had gotten herself into some deep shit and needed a hand, and then handily tacked on his new number in a hastily added PS. But, unfortunately, Leon himself was a bit busy with his so-called new job, which so far consisted of him having his ass handed to him on a regular basis, and he hadn’t been in contact with Chris or Claire since Raccoon City two months ago.

Honestly, Leon had hoped the Redfield siblings had found each other and were off chasing Umbrella and saving the world together, but apparently not. Coupled with Leon and Sherry having seemingly disappeared off the face of the planet for weeks, Chris had been a little desperate when Leon finally managed to send an encrypted email.

“How’s it going, rookie?”

Leon snorted and flopped back on the mattress, tucking his free arm behind his head, his fatigue melting away. “Oh, you know.”

“That good, huh. I know you can’t tell me what’s going on, but are you okay?”

Always with the tough questions. Leon sighed, but his stomach gave a funny little flip. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“I definitely owe you one.”

“I think we’re about even.” Leon wasted nights alone in bed thinking about the night he spent buried against Chris Redfield’s chest, arms wrapped protectively around him as he fell apart when Raccoon City was still a smouldering ruin on the horizon. Leon yearned for that level of comfort and warmth. “Did you find her?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I found her. But, we lost someone.”

Leon’s chest ached. How many people was that now? How many people had they lost in this war that they hadn’t even been aware they were fighting. Umbrella destroyed so many lives; hurt so many people. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

Condolences - apology, solace, commiseration - hung thick in the air between them, so many words left unsaid. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry I left, that I abandoned you when you needed me; I wish you were here.

“How’s Sherry?”

“She’s good,” Leon lied. His stomach clenched painfully at the thought of the little girl he and Claire had managed to save from the city. The one thing Leon had done right.

Except, the first thing the government had done was take Sherry from Leon, separated them, interrogated him for days until they finally held her life above his head like a guillotine. His visitation remained few and far between, but she was alive and well taken care of, and that’s what mattered. Even if she’d traded one lab for another.

“Good. That’s good. Listen, Claire and I are back home getting things in order, but we both want to see you. Without you, I wouldn’t have found her.”

“Chris, seriously. It was nothing. I just passed on the information I had.” Leon twirled his finger absentmindedly in the phone cord. “I couldn’t get to her, but knew you could. I’m glad you found her.”

“You’re in DC, right?”

“What? Yeah. Listen, Chris-” Leon tried.

“We’re going to drive down for the weekend before we fly back to England next week. We’re putting together a team, but Claire really wants to see you. I want to see you. I need to thank you.”

Leon scrubbed his hand across his mouth and stared helplessly up at the stucco ceiling. Chris wasn’t going to take no for an answer, not that Leon wanted him to. On the contrary, he wanted to see them as badly as they wanted to see him.

“The weekend should be fine,” Leon said. “I usually have them off unless they decide to airdrop me into the center of a national park with nothing but a combat knife and a flask. I mean, no guarantees, but, you know.”

“Jesus Christ, Leon. What have you gotten yourself into?”

Leon grimaced. “Unfortunately, that’s classified.”

“I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing.” That made two of them, but Sherry’s life hung in the balance.

Chris and Leon hashed out tentative plans for the weekend. Claire and Chris would drive the nine hours down from Franklin County on Friday, which Leon found insane. Nine hours trapped in a vehicle with their sibling for a dude they barely knew, only to be met with disappointment because Leon wouldn’t be whatever they expected. All the same, he’d let them crash at his place for the weekend, and then they’d fly out of the Dulles International Sunday evening.

Warmth blossomed in Leon’s chest; hope. Things weren’t ideal. Yes, he’d been coerced into the service of his country, but he wanted to do what he couldn’t in Raccoon City; save people, make Umbrella pay for their crimes. Maybe he could have done that alongside friends, allies, or Chris. Instead, the acute loneliness tingled in the back of his mind, a constant reminder that he had been abandoned. Not on purpose, no, but his naivety showed weakness.

The call ended with a promise, like their last separation, a reluctance to part, but a promise of companionship, of warmth, of friendship that was almost destined to end in grief. Leon couldn’t help the anticipation that bloomed.

Leon noisily clattered the headset back into the cradle and took stock of his tiny bedroom cluttered with dirty clothes, plates, a half-empty glass of water, and first aid supplies. “Fuck.”

Cleaning the apartment wouldn’t be so bad considering his severe lack of possessions, and he had three days before visitors arrived. Not that either of the Redfield’s would care about the clutter and shortage of furniture. If anything, they would understand. So much had been lost the day Racoon City disappeared in a mushroom cloud. Still, he tidied every moment he had between beatings, lectures, and exams.

Friday morning, the apartment was shockingly spotless except for the freshly used coffee mug in the sink. Loading it into the half-empty dishwasher wouldn’t have been all that difficult if Leon wasn’t already running behind schedule. The commute to the training center took twenty minutes on a good day if he obeyed all traffic laws.

Today likely wouldn’t be one of those days since he was due for roll-call in seven minutes, which seemed pointlessly ridiculous as he was the only agent in training. But the government liked to make him jump through hoops, literally.

Each course they had him run became increasingly complex and ludicrous to the point that Leon failed more than ninety percent of the time. With each fall, one instructor that he didn’t know the name of, only called Sir, yelled “dead” as if it wasn’t already abundantly clear that one mistake would be a death sentence in the field. Something he probably knew that better than the assholes pulling the strings. None of the big wigs had lived the hell he lived, seen what he had seen, and relived what he relived every night alone twisted in the sheets of his bed.

By the time Leon trudged through the front door of his tiny apartment, two hours later than planned, his entire side was mottled blue and purple from the fresh thrashing at the hands of his close combat instructor. His hand to hand had improved the most over the last month with the help of his natural flexibility and agility that earned him a few jokes about how he should have joined the circus. But they were impressed.

Nothing about his training was normal, even he knew that. Nothing like the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team had been formed before, people had never been reanimated from the dead by a virus before, and they were trying to prepare him for the worst. A nightmare they had never experienced themselves, but he had.

The phone rang. Leon groaned, staggering as he pivoted where he had been about to face-plant on the couch, and headed for the phone in the bedroom.

“Hello?” Leon said, almost certain it was Agent Benford with a new brutal assignment. He sagged onto the bed in relief, curling onto his side when the increasingly familiar greeting of ‘hey, rookie” rumbled in his ear. “Chris.”

“Thank god. Where have you been? This is the fourth time we tried calling.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Leon groaned as his side twinged. “Got, uh, caught up at the... office.”

“You sound like you’re in rough shape.”

Leon hummed. “Been worse.” A sad truth.

“We were calling to say we’re an hour out, but now that’s more like ten minutes,” Chris said, and Claire shouted something unintelligible in the background. “Oh, right. Remind me to give you this number. Claire made me get one of those Nokias so she can keep track of me.”

Claire screeched indignantly, and Leon snickered. “I’ve got a pager,” he offered as consolation. All that much easier to be at the government’s beck and call, but if Chris ever needed him, or Claire, or Sherry.

Leon rattled off a few quick directions to get the Redfield’s to his place, then hung up the phone and rolled out of bed to shower. The hot water stung the fresh bruising, his muscles ached, but he felt human the more he scrubbed away the sweat and grime.

The buzzer for the front door rang as Leon eased a fresh t-shirt on over his head; his shoulder twinged, but he limped over to buzz them up.

A few minutes later, since the building’s elevator took years because of the ‘historic’ value as the real estate agent had put it, someone knocked at the door in a frantic staccato. Leon swung the door open, hair still damp, and was immediately tackled in a hug.

Fight or flight kicked in, Leon’s brain came back online in fits and started in time to hug the small woman hugging him tightly rather than throw her over his shoulder. Claire’s mouth ran a mile a minute. Apparently, he had been missed, and Claire didn’t appear to want to release him anytime soon if the creaking of his ribs were anything to go by.

Leon stared helplessly over her head at Chris, who laughed, but pried his sister off Leon so he could drag him in a hug too. Chris enveloped Leon in a bear hug. That level of high alert that itched in the back of his mind for months ebbed, not disappeared, but faded enough that Leon enjoyed the moment, squeezing Chris back just as tight.

“Come in,” Leon said as he stepped back and waved them into his tiny apartment. “It’s not much, but, you know.”

Claire and Chris shucked their shoes and jackets and wandered into the apartment. Claire scrutinized every little detail or lack thereof. Decoration wasn’t exactly at the top of Leon’s priorities. Nevertheless, he had what he needed: a couch, a TV, a coffee table that doubled as his kitchen table, and a mattress in the bedroom. No bedframe, but he wasn’t picky. Clean sheets and a blanket, and he was good to go.

“It’s, ahh...” Chris trailed off as he glanced around the sparse room.

“What are you, a squatter?” Claire cut in. She stood in front of the mostly empty closet she’d opened.

“Okay, I was going to say it’s a bit Spartan,” Chris said. He slapped a comforting hand on Leon’s shoulder. “Can’t be easy to start all over from nothing, again.”

Leon rubbed the back of his neck, shoulders slumped. “I did warn you guys. Not much to do.”

Chris hummed, his hand dropping from Leon’s shoulder as he wandered off to the kitchen. “You got beer?” The fridge was stocked with two six-packs of cheap beer, a bottle of ketchup, a carton of 2%, and eggs.

“I’ll order food,” Claire said, glancing around, but the phone wasn’t in sight. Leon directed her to the bedroom, where his mattress sat on the floor against the wall. “Jesus Christ, Leon, is that a milk crate?” Clearly, she’d found the bedside table with the phone and takeout menus.

Groaning, Leon sank down onto his couch and buried his face in his hands. The cushions sank beside him as a much larger body sat down. Leon peeked out from between his fingers at Chris, who smiled sadly at him.

“If you need anything-” Chris started.

“I’m fine.” Leon ran his fingers through his damp hair and slouched so his elbows rested on his knees. “Not a lot of time to do much these days, you know, between the daily ass kickings and memorizing a million and one protocols.”

Chris mirrored Leon’s posture. “You could always come with us.”

Leon shook his head.

“Leon-”

“I can’t,” Leon snapped in time for Claire to walk out of the bedroom.

For a second, Claire paused, eyes bouncing between the heavy tension that hung between them. “I ordered Chinese. Did I miss something?”

“No,” Chris and Leon said at the same time.

The food didn’t take long to arrive. The delivery guy, already familiar with Leon’s apartment, joked that he had company for once. The restaurant had even thrown in some free spring rolls for one of their best customers. Sad, considering he’d only been in DC for a little over a month.

The three of them settled on the couch together; Leon squashed in the middle of the sofa, pressed against Chris because Claire had claimed one end with her feet up and tucked her toes under Leon’s thigh. They’d settled for a cheesy action movie they found flipping through channels, something with a bus that couldn’t stop, but ignored it in favour of light conversion, mostly Claire. Neither Chris nor Leon were much in the way of conversationalists. Still, Chris offered a tidbit here and there, and Leon hummed along, nodding when need be, and occasionally offered the occasional dry joke that had Chris and Claire in stitches. Chris nearly snorted beer out his nose when he made an off-the-cuff remark about the first day always being the easiest.

Pleasantly buzzed from a few beers and noodles heavy in his belly, Leon began to nod off, his head helplessly bobbing with the weight of fatigue.

Distantly, Leon heard a chuckle. His head plopped down on the closest shoulder, broad and warm, and the last thing he remembered was Claire wiggling her toes under his thigh and giggling.

When Leon woke up to his bladder screaming, the apartment was dark. For a brief second, he panicked when he discovered his mobility restricted, but his foggy mind pieced together the clues to form a complete picture. He was still on the couch, curled into Chris’ side, nose pressed into Chris’ neck. The arm slung around Leon’s shoulder held in him what couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a secure embrace. They were barely covered by what Leon quickly realized was the thin comforter from his bed because Claire, curled up on the other end of the couch, had stolen most of the blanket, leaving Chris and Leon with a tiny corner.

Leon eased himself out of Chris’ protective hold and slipped off the couch, tucking Chris back under the blanket so he could escape to the safety of the bathroom in what was becoming a pattern. Wake up cuddled with a man he barely knew, panic, then flee.

The moonlight through the clouded window lit the bathroom enough for Leon to piss and wash his hands without hitting the light. He stood, hands braced on the edge of the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were lighter, and his hair was a wild tangle after falling asleep with it still damp. Even if he looked less tired, he was exhausted. He shivered. DC winters were colder than he was used to.

Shuffling back into the living room, Leon found Claire stretched further out on the couch, having used Leon’s absence to steal the very little room Leon had occupied beside Chris. “That seems about right,” he said, then jumped when Chris’ head popped up from where it had been stretched out against the back of the couch. “Oh! Sorry, I can just...” Leon waved vaguely back down the hall towards his bedroom.

Chris lifted his corner of the blanket in invitation.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Leon argued, rubbing his arm. “I can just sleep in my bed.”

“Isn’t this your blanket?” Chris asked.

Leon shivered in the cool December chill. “It’s not that cold.”

“Leon.”

Leon slunk back to the couch under Chris’ watchful gaze and tried to find space, but Claire’s sprawl left no room for Leon to squeeze back into. He hovered for a moment, uncertain of how to proceed, but the choice was taken from him when Chris grabbed him around the middle and hauled him down over his lap. Leon squawked, slapping a hand over his mouth. His butt nestled between the arm of the couch and Chris’ thigh, his legs thrown over Chris’ lap.

For almost a full minute, Leon stared at Chris open-mouthed, unable to do anything but blink like a startled owl while his attacker shook with silent laughter.

“Cat got your tongue, rookie?” Chris snickered.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Leon snapped his jaw closed, pursed his lips and purposefully flung an arm around Chris’ shoulders before wiggling until he was burrowed tightly into the warmth of Chris’ side like a kitten. Still, it took a few minutes for Leon to relax enough to sink into the heat of the body beneath him, Chris grinning a challenge to him. Leon rolled his eyes and stuck the cold tip of his nose into Chris’ neck.

“Christ, Kennedy,” Chris said as a stilted shudder ran through him, but wrapped Leon in an inflexible hug like the first night they met, the night Leon’s anxiety and doubt demanded the comfort of another person, the night he still dreamt about. “What are you? Part snowman?”

“Popsicle, but thanks for asking,” Leon mumbled.

Tucked under a small corner of the worn comforter he found in a thrift shop his first night in the city, Leon tilted headfirst into the satisfaction and comfort of Chris Redfield. Most men would have balked at even the idea of cuddling with another man, but Leon had never been like other men. He’d learned early in life to take comfort where he could because kindness was often isolated incidents of empathy.

The smell of coffee tickled Leon’s nose. He was hot, a little too hot, and a little sweaty, but he was comfortable, safe. He pressed into the warmth, groaning quiet contentment when the heat squeezed back until a sharp snort and a giggle shocked him into alertness like a splash of ice water.

Leon’s eyes snapped open. Claire grinned at him from the far end of the couch, legs pulled up to sit cross-legged, hand curled around a steaming mug of coffee. “Morning.”

Ao3

[bunchofstraydogs]

Dazai Osamu in a relationship

Just a lil warning before you proceed: dis a chonky one, kay?

○

Depending on why Dazai is in a relationship affects how he will act with his partner.

If Dazai is curious about them, enough to enter the relationship,

it will last at best a handful of months, at worst about 2 weeks. Enough to get to know them, test them out in terms of reaction, values, honesty and morality, and get bored of them. Thus leading to him braking up with the person or, if he predicts that the person would react badly and cause a scene, get them to break up with him. But even that is dubious because i doubt Dazai would make the relationship official. He would probably just act as if they're dating, leading the partner to believe they actually are without having to verbally confirm anything, and then as soon as he loses interest, pulls a now-you-see-me-now-you-don't and disappears with little to no notice. Hey, he never said they were dating, he calls everyone Belladona, the fault is that person's for being delusional. Yes, he is an asshole, what did you expect of Dazai?

But if Dazai is in love?? Unrecognizable.

I will make a separate headcanon(? whatever these are I'm writing) on what i think a person should be like to sweep Dazai of his feet, but now i want to concentrate on what he would be like in such a relationship.

Is it possible for Dazai to fall in love? Absolutely. He loved Odasaku and Ango, perhaps not romantically, but he's definitely capable of love. People like him- aware of the world's cruelty, dealing with demons and guilt, roaming the world for the sole reason that they haven't died yet, hoping to find something worthwhile they can feel the need to be selfish about and call theirs; don't fall in love, they crash desperately. It takes a lot for them to feel those emotions, but when they do, they can never really let them go.

He would try to act as he usually does in public and try approaching the subject of his trepidation and disarray in many different ways. Distancing himself and going as far to actively avoid them would just come back and bite him in his boney ass. To effectively avoid someone, you need to know their schedule, hobbies, interests, habits, etc. And having learned that would just constantly remind him of them, they'd never leave his mind. He'd look on the clock, see the time and know that they'll be in that specific class because he knows their whole curriculum and class schedule/ at the grocery because they're surly out of their favourite snack/ doing black laundry and yes, he knows unnecessary details about them as well. After that disastrous failure, he comes back running and commences new ways to handle that person. These beta testings are for him as much as they are for them. Just how much and what exactly does he feel for that person, what buttons can he push and which ones he doesn't want to.

When i say Dazai in love would be unrecognizable, i mean it. Not superficially, where everyone can see it, but where it matters.

After doing his best to rail in the unfamiliar feelings under control, going as far as using some of Mori's techniques, the realization of the situation he's found himself in hits him hard.

He comes back as if nothing happened.

The deadpan that person gives him and a "Are you done with your bullshit or do you need some more time to brood about issues you made with yourself?" He doesn't even blink, "Oh, my Belladona! Does that mean you've missed me? Were you worried about me as well??"

All of this was said in your typical, Dazai maniac style, the only difference is that he actually wants an answer. He wants to hear the confirmation, in whatever form it may come- he can read between the lines and body language, just give him something to work with. He's desperate.

While the public Dazai persona won't change, his inner musings and his approach to the love interest will.

Osamu will, sometimes sneakily, usually not so subtly, immerse himself into their daily life. Get them accustomed and used to his presence. What this will do is cause a sense of familiar coexistence, that of people living together; make the person unconsciously continue to include him in their activities; learn to depend on him (not in a unhealthy, yandere way, but if their car brakes down or they're feelinh unsafe, Dazai will be the first person they feel the urge to call) because Dazai can be reliable and he will be reliable for that special person. He will also be the first person they share good news with as well, because if someone is always there for and with you, it's only natural.

Make no mistakes, Dazai is transparent only when he wants to be.

The reasons he does this is because 1) he wants to gauge their reaction to his great interest in them, 2) mask his subtle advances which are the most important part of integrating himself into their life, 3) to get that person in the position where he needs them to be for him to move on to the next phase of his plan.

Now, i may have said plan, but that's a somewhat loose term since what he'll do next depends on their reaction. He definitely has a rough outline of the whole thing in his head, but he's also adaptable and ready to react accordingly to whatever they may throw his way.

[I will be using l/i or LI for "love interest" bc I'm tired of writing that person or whatever, okay? Good.]

Once his l/i made effort to go out of their way for him or commit any type of love language, basically:

act of service- pay for his bills, massage his shoulders, buy crab based food or alchohol he really likes for their own fridge so that he can have it when he's over (often) even if they don't like those things especially then

words of affirmation- thank you Dazai, how was your sleep?, please take better care of yourself i can't help you if you're not making an effort

physical touch- ruffle his hair, lean on him when tired, hold his hand or wrist because it's crowded and it would be a pain to search for you Dazai

gift giving- "I noticed you were running out of bandages", "I bought you food, figured your lost case would forget to eat", "saw this mackerel, reminded me of you^^" "BELLADONA, NO >:("

quality time- spending nights with him because he has insomnia, playing games at the arcade, drive around town run from the cops

He would be overwhelmed. In the best way possible. He'd feel overwhelmingly good and pleasant and warm and worried.

He didn't feel like this, ever.

Not even with Odasaku and Ango. They were probably his first friends, but that's the thing. They didn't make his heart race, they didn't throw him into panic attacks, they didn't overwhelm him, they didn't keep him up at night because he couldn't get them out of his head or completely monopolise his mind during the day.

He gets panic attacks.

A lot of them, actually. Usually he can fake being fine, but sometimes he hyperventilates and can't breathe and all that he can smell is the blood on his hands and his chest is as hollow as l/i's eyes. He knows what can happen. They can and will be used against him. Hell, it could even be an accident. He is vulnerable just because they exist and he can't do shit about it.

He could do his thing: pull some strings, have them move to another country and never speak to each other ever again. He has the power, but he lacks the strength. He could do it, but he doesn't want to. His thumb won't press the numbers, his voice died out, his mind went blank.

The wind blows and it carries their scent with it. The bells ring and it's their laughter that resonates within. His bandages ruffle and it's the warmth of their touch he feels. He's dying, but he's not just ready yet to leave. Hopefully, Odasaku will patiently keep a seat for him.

That was what gave him away, actually.

That's when Ranpo realised, with zero doubt, that Dazai Osamu is in love.

Dazai could be going on and on about suicide.

Enter l/i.

"I found an amazing tree yesterday with really sturdy branches. I wanted to test them out today, but i promised l/i I'd go to the new bakery with them today and who would they go with if i die?? Unacceptable!"

Ranpo: "A new bakery? I'll happily take your place."

"UNACCEPTABLE!!"

With every panic attack he feels stranded on an island in the sea of death.

He's exhausted. For the first time he finally wants to escape alive. Then they walk in and the storm in the sea moves to his heart. And into his stomach and his hands and his knees.

"I'm here for you, Osamu. Everything is going to be fine."

His insomnia goes by a different name now.

It still keeps him up at night and makes him restless.

But this time, when he fills his nth glass of whiskey for the night, when the TV is muted and the trafic quiet, when he can hear their breathing beside him in their shared bed, he raises the glass to hope for the halcyon days.

●

Fucking finally. You think you're exhausted, you waste of bandages?? I have a final today I'm going to fail and actually wrote about your musky ass. You try doing that with my brain.

Hope you guys like it and if you made it this far, here's a cup of ☕ or 🍵, whichever you prefer. I wrote him as i see and envision him. Hope it all makes sense. He's a complicated character, but he is still human and he is not immune to emotions.

Have a good one~☆

I will probably come up with more things for him, because i doubt i covered everything, but for now this shall do.

[dilfwaynes]

hi!! can i request a hc of the batfam reaction of their eastasian!reader gf  experiencing racism? thank you <33

just a reminder if you took place in any involvement of asian hate block me rn bitch :)

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this anon, i tried to make it accurate without stepping over any boundaries since im not asian myself. if anyone finds any sort of this offensive pls dm me !!

warning ; racism, batfam beating hoes, mention of blood

parings : bruce wayne x asian!reader, jason tood x asian!reader, dick grayson x asian!reader, stephanie brown x asian!reader, tim drake x asian!reader, damian wayne x asian!reader

BRUCE WAYNE:

it’ll honestly take a minute for bruce to realize what happened

when first entering the store he took notice of the man glaring but brushed it off thinking it was directed towards him as bruce wayne

you however didnt really pay attention to the dirty looks being thrown at you

with bruce excusing himself to the restroom and makes a promise of a quick return, you wander around the area by yourself

it was all fine until a man approaches you, giving a fast glance at him before turning away. there was definitely something up with him

“you don’t belong here”

your head shot up at his words, looking around you to make sure he was talking to you

“excuse me?” you lift an eyebrow at him, knowing what he was hinting at

“you fucking heard me, you don’t belong here. go back to your country.”

you inch away as he steps closer,”you better back the fuck away..”

he simply gives a smug face only coming closer,”or what?” you tighten your jaw when he loosely lets out a slur, your fists clenched.

“or i dislocate your arm.”bruce’s voice rings out, deep in anger as his eyes flicker to you and scanning to see if you were ok physically.

the ugly bitch’s face pales when he realizes who’s your boyfriend. without hesitation bruce yanks him away from you, slamming him to the wall

demanding for a first and last name,  squeezing his neck when the guy stays quiet

shaking he gives in and tells, flinching when bruce slams him against the wall one last time before dropping him

“i guaranteed whatever poor status you do contain i’ll tear it completely, say goodbye to your job.” he grabs for your hand and brings you into him as you both walk away.

“i’m sorry i shouldn’t have left you alone, my fault,”he presses a kiss to your temple.”and please don’t think any worth of that garbage’s words.”

you shake your head,”he was just some lowlife, not worth thinking about.” you reply leaning into him.

he looked at you and could tell no matter what those words still hurt somewhat and it angered him to no end

no one deserved to hear that disgusting shit, especially not his girlfriend.

his eyes hardens but doesn’t push further to make you anymore uncomfortable than you probably already are

giving another kiss to the side of your head he makes a quiet promise to himself not to leave you alone anymore in public with disgusting people like that around

jason todd:

as soon as the slur leaves the guy’s lips jason’s fist collides to his jaw, no doubt   shattering it

you and jason were grabbing lunch at some restaurant slash bar since it was the first time in a few days jason was free

everything was okay until you got up to go to the bathroom and some guy bumped into you

jason watched with hardening eyes as you apologize instead of the guy who slammed into you

“watch where the fuck you’re going at.”

you fall shock at the word, staying in place

while jason is on his feet in no time, swinging to the asshole’s face

screams were heard as well as the sound of bones breaking from his fist impact, the guy stumbling to the floor

“you racist fucking prick that’s my girlfriend you ugly fuck,”lifting him by his shirt he grabs his face and turns him to you.”apologize to her before i break your fucking face.”

he quickly rambles apologizes, crying in fear or pain. most likely a mix of both

jaaon lets him go and gives him another punch, this time to the nose. finding satisfaction at the pool of blood now seeping out

jason grabs your hand and starts to lead you outside,”let’s go eat somewhere else and forget about this shithole.”

you barely had time to give a reaction to anything as everything happened so fast

“hey look at me, don’t listen to that worthless fuck and his fucked up mindset. i dont know what to say to comfort you since i never experienced anything like this.” he stops at the car, placing his hands onto your shoulders

you nod sighing lightly, you only wanted a simple lunch with your boyfriend but instead got hate crime for simply  breathing.

“it’s nothing i haven’t gone through before,”he shakes his head blue eyes filling up with rage.

“no one’s gonna be doing that anymore, or at least getting away with it while i’m around

DICK GRAYSON:

he was completely taken by surmise at the slur being thrown at you, as well as the fault of you being the root of the covid 19

but before he had any time to react you were already on your feet glaring,”the fuck you just called me you piece shit.”

before he could reply you already kneed him and punched him between the eyes, dick laughing at the cries of pain

“you want me to take over or you wanna handle it babe?”

even how badly he wanted to beat the shit out of the pos the choice was yours

you denied and wanted to handle this on your own

but everytime the guy tried to get up dick would just shake his head and tell him to stay down, or simply push him back down

eventually if you start going too far richards would pull you away and tell you hes not worth it

he understands your anger but he doesn’t want you to past a line you won’t recover from bc of some worthless grime

“c’mon, he’s not worth anymore of our time. lets go eat pizza.”

DAMIAN WAYNE:

swing first talk later

he’ll just look at guy for a few seconds with a blank face

then he’s literally knocking them out

will probably kick him into the wall or ground

u dont know if you wanna pull him away because you already the tabloids, or if you wanna let him continue to beating the guy

damian probably wouldn’t realize how much he beat the guy to a pulp until you’re tugging him away

nudging his neck with to your nose to try and calm him down

he’ll end the fight with spitting on him tbh

your face reddens with anger when your eyes met the racist bitch, enjoying the view of his blood on the floor

“racist piece of shit,” he hisses before finally turning his back brow still frowning with anger

unlike the others (mentioned) he also knows and experienced racism and understands your point view way more

and know bow to comfort you better tbh

afterwards he’ll talk to you and comfort you, as well as opening up about his racist encounters, as well as his mothers.

if you’re still upset about what happened some hours later he 100% offers to beat up the guy again

you laugh it off cos hes serious about doing detective work, finding the guy and beating him to a pulp

you thank him but deny his offer and settle to confiding into him and just telling him how your feelings

STEPHANIE BROWN:

“are you fucking serious right now bitch?”

steph deadpans staring at the girl who called you the slur with ease, going on about how you were the cause of corona and to go back to your country

shocked at the words, hearing all of this before but it still doesn’t fail everytime you hear them

turning to you and seeing the hurt on your face from the word, she quickly turns to seeing red

without a second thought she grabs the collar of the woman’s shirt

“you’re gonna fucking apologize to my girlfriend right now or i’m gonna slam your face into the floor and break it

you stay still, pleased at watching the girl shake in fear under steph as she chokes out a mesh of a shit rushed apologizes

stephanie throws her down to the ground after her third apologize

“are you okay?” she knew you weren’t but asking the question would lead into the stage of comforting you

you nod but go on to tell her that this isn’t the first or last time this will happen, but it still never fails to shock you

she frowns at your experiences and doesn’t quite know what to do to help since she never went thru anything like that

she offers to take you to your favorite restaurant and end the day in wayne manor watching whatever you wanted

smiling when you accept, pulling you in her and pressing a kiss on-top of your head

“dont worry i’ll beat any jackass that pulls any racist shit.”

TIM DRAKE:

i think he’ll be the less  violent one out of everyone

he would honestly be so disgusted and gross out at humanity and how the woman thinks shes superior just because she’s white

if it was a guy saying what was said, then he would probably hit them ngl

but he takes the higher road with the woman, belittling and ending her with his vocabulary

and you’re pretty sure that his words hurt her more than an actual punch would 

you laugh when he compares her built to a buffalo

he then goes on to a more education lean, explaining how skin tone has nothing to do with a person, and she should adapt to modern times and stop being a racist cunt

after he ends it he goes on to find out who she is and email/call her workplace to inform what kind of employee they have

probably also goes on to make sure she wont be hired anywhere else

comforts you alot and and will get you anything you want

prob gets you both milkshakes as you vent to him about today and other racist things said to you

hates how you have to go thru any of this for simply existing

the  incident opens his eyes and he starts talking to bruce about opening a charity for ‘stop asian hate’

would shy away from the press and say you both came up with the fund

u’ll dismiss that rq and tell everyone it was all tim’s idea

all the money goes people got assaulted and paying for any hospital bills or anything needed

[fvrxdrm]

Hey do you still do requests for Leon Kennedy Re2? I was gonna ask about an NSFW but a little rendezvous to a hotel or something, thank you for reading this

Resting? What the Fuck is That??? (Leon Kennedy x Reader)

Pairing: RE2make!Leon x F!reader

Warning(s): NSFW

+++++++++++++++++

      “Y/N!”

      A leather-gloved hand clasped onto your wrist as Leon pulled you into the darkened lobby of a hotel you both agreed to meet up at after getting separated. The force he inserted made you stumble a bit but thank God it wasn’t enough to make you fall onto the ground that was painted with blood and grime or else... Yikes!

      The young man in front of you slammed the door shut with so much intensity that you were sure all of the undead that chased you down flew across the country before pulling a bookshelf to use it as a barricade while you rest up for a little while.

      “Man, that was close!” You exclaimed. Your heart was pounding so much and your lungs were burning and begging for air with all the running you’ve done that your upper body didn’t have a choice but to bend down and let your knees support your arms.

      “Yeah. Are you okay, though?” Leon asked as he took a few steps towards you and caressed your back with the hand that wasn’t holding Matilda. You held one of your own ones up as a signal for him to let you take a breather before doing anything else and replied to his question.

      “Yeah, just…just give me a second.”

      “It’s okay. That room right there is clear. We can rest up in there for a bit.”

      “You sure we’ll only rest in there?” You tilted your head towards his direction with a teasing smirk playing on your lips. You knew he was vanilla and you’d seen him blush a few times that night with all the cheesy and filthy lines you were bombarding him while finding a way to get out of the city and you enjoyed seeing him get all flustered so you decided to continue your mission of getting him all mushy and soft. What you didn’t expect though is for him to be prepared with a reply of his own.

      “I don’t know. We can do some other stuff if you want.” Leon said, sending a flirty wink towards you. His face read ‘ego’ as he saw how red your face had become, mentally patting himself on the shoulder as he finally gained a point after hours and hours of trying to come up with something to respond back with. “Come on. There’s a bed waiting for us in there.” And with that, he strutted towards the room he was talking about earlier, confidence blossoming all over him as your widened eyes stayed glued to the man who you unconsciously might’ve taught too much that night.

*****

      “Ugh! Finally, a bed.” You plopped down on the soft mattress of the king-sized bed that almost occupied the entire room and ended up looking like a starfish, the popcorn ceiling above you weirdly gaining your attention.

      “Scoot over. You’re not the only one needing some rest,” Leon said as he nudged your foot that was dangling over the edge of the furniture. You turned your head towards him, your eyes narrowing in a sly manner and your lips curling into a lopsided grin.

      “And if I say no?”

      “Then, suit yourself.” Leon walked over to where your legs were spread, donning an impish look of his own, before throwing himself on top of you, the sudden change of weight making you yelp and groan.

      “Ugh! Fuck!”

      “You asked for it,” he remarked, his voice sounding muffled as he let his face rest on your neck. It was getting hard to breathe the more Leon spent every second just laying on top of you and so, you tried your very best to push him off of you before you ran out of oxygen and die because of him.

      “Get off me, you psycho!” You grunted, still struggling to shove him away but Leon stood his ground and moved just a tad bit to get more comfy just laying on your stomach. “Bitch, if you don’t skidaddle-“

      “Okay, okay, I’ll get off. Geez.” Much to your relief, he finally got off of you and fell onto the right side of the bed, his hands lazily settling down on his vest-covered abdomen, while you tried to catch your breath for the umpteenth time that night.

      “Jesus… You almost killed me,” you breathed out as your palm placed itself on your chest where you could feel your own heartbeat pummeling so hard that you thought it was going to break through your ribs.

      “Well, I told you to scoot over.”

      “It was a joke, asshole.”

      “And?” Leon, who was enjoying himself a bit too much, looked over at you with the exact same smile he gave you earlier before torturing you with his lean muscles. You stared back at him, your eyelids getting closer to closing as you silently accepted his own staring contest before you eventually scoffed and withdrew your gaze away from him.

      “You’re the worst.” Your body flipped over to face the direction of the brown wooden door you both previously entered and tried to get some sleep, battling with the paranoia that had been trying to take over your system since the outbreak of some sort of virus occurred. But alas, you failed to defeat that inner demon of yours.

      “Can’t sleep?” Leon spoke after a few minutes of awkward silence. He mindlessly drew invisible shapes and patterns in the air out of boredom, turning the ceiling into a canvas filled with nothing but the imaginations of the boy. You were quiet for a minute, contemplating whether or not you were just going to ignore the rookie beside you and attempt on another round of ‘let’s-fuck-around-with-paranoia-and-fear-because-that’s-totally-healthy-and-normal’.

      Leon noticed your lack of response and looked over to your direction to see your form trembling in fear and trauma and this rang an emergency alarm inside of him.

      “Hey, Y/N, what’s wrong? Is it something that I said? Did I injure you?” He softly asked, his hand reaching over to your arm and comforting you in one of the ways he could. You finally turned around and faced him, baring your tears and vulnerability to the man who just saved you from getting bitten by a number of cannibalistic creatures…again. “Hey, you can talk to me, you know. And if this is about what I did earlier, I’m-“

      “No, I just…what if we don’t make it out of here? I mean, you saw what happened earlier. One of them could get us at any moment and-“

      “Hey, hey, we will make it out of here, alive, alright? We’ve gone this far tonight. What’s stopping us now?”

      “Leon-“

      “No, alright? We’re gonna make it through. As long as we stick together we’ll be fine. Don’t you trust me?” He rested his leather-covered palm on your cheek, tenderly stroking your skin as his crystal blue eyes stared directly into your E/C ones.

      “I do, Leon, I really do. But…I’m the one I don’t trust…and I’m scared.” Recollections of what happened that past week since the upsurge happened flooded your brain; from when you were bitten to when Umbrella found intel on you and started chasing you down town. You were stuck hiding inside an abandoned apartment that had zombies lurking from one corner to another and it was good thing you were smart enough to plan tactics to sneak up on them without getting the attention of the undead while moving around to find stuff that could be useful to your survival.

      “Y/N, I’m just as scared as you are but we have to fight.”

      “Leon, you don’t understand.” Your eyes dripped with more tears, unmasking the façade you’d varnished yourself with as soon as the virus hit and when Leon saw this, he pulled against his chest and stroked your hair to make you feel more at ease. And it certainly did.

      Minutes had passed just calming down to the warmth your human duvet and shield had given off and your breathing had become a bit shallow than before. However, while Leon was doing his best to comfort you, your mind went towards the direction of ‘am-I-going-to-tell-Leon-the-truth-or-not’. If you told him the truth, he would either not believe you and kill you or leave you or believe you and maybe even help get you off the radar atleast until you escape the city and after a good amount of thinking time, you decided to tell him the truth because why not? He’s going to find out either way, anyway. And so, that you did.

      “Leon, I have to tell you something.” You pulled away from his grasp and stared right into his eyes where you could see the exhaustion and pain hiding beneath the not-so-convincing mask of courage and gentleness.

      “What is it?”

      “I…I um…”

      “Hey, it’s okay not tell me, alright? Maybe what’s bothering you is too personal.” Leon rubbed the exposed skin of your arm to assure you and you almost didn’t want to tell him because of how badly you wanted to stay right in his arms and enjoy the warmth he was blessing you with and just sleep right there but you had to. You didn’t want to lose his trust and feel like you set him up when he finds out later since the chance of that happening is higher if you didn’t tell him earlier.

      “Leon, I…I”

      “Y/N, I told you, you can-“

      “I’m bit”

      There, you said it. Now all you have to do is wait for Leon’s reaction while you tremble like a cat or something.

      He went silent for a few seconds, eyebrows crumpled together until words finally formed in his mouth. “What? When? And how are not turned yet?” His eyes roamed your body to look for any vital signs that you were bit and was turning into one of those…things…that were outside but couldn’t find any so he assumed that you were telling a sick and stupid joke.

      “I was bitten the day the outbreak started and…I don’t think I’m going to turn into one of them…ever.” Leon looked straight into your worrisome eyes again, bewilderment written all over him for the millionth time that night.

      “What? How? You saw what happened out there, I saw what happened out there, so how are you bitten and not turning? And also, I’m not seeing a single bite mark on you.” You took in a huge amount of air before releasing them to blend in with the cold and turned your left forearm upward so you could show Leon the damage you did five days after you almost became zombie chow. He took a closer look, getting as much visual details as possible to prove or deny that what you had was a bite mark. But as he further inspected the injury, he saw that it was not a bite mark but was actually a burn of some sort. “Y/N, what the fuck? This is a burn not a bite mark.”

“Yeah, I did that. Five days after I was bitten, I decided it would be a great idea to cover the bite by burning it.” You chuckled. “Stupid, I know.”

      “If you’re immune, then, why are you scared?”

       “Umbrella. I-it’s a pharmaceutical company that claimed responsible for the attack, I believe. And now, they’re after me, probably to make more of that trench coat and fedora bitch or something.” And with that, silence took over you again, giving Leon enough time to process the information he just got from you and scheme a plan for you two to get out of the city without running into any workers from said pharmaceutical company. But when you noticed how he was stressing himself out for you, you took his hand in yours and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead to snap him out of his trance. It was sweet how he cared about you so much, but you didn’t want him to forget about himself. And besides, you could take care of yourself. You would always have each other’s back, especially in a situation like this.

      “Somebody’s after me. I don’t know what they want but…I’ve been hiding from them these past few days.” At that point, Leon had become more concerned for your safety than before, making a mental note to not separate with you ever again.

"Who?"

      “Leon, you don’t have to think too much, okay? All I’m asking you to do is to never leave my side and I will never leave yours. We’re a team, remember?” The said man lifted his gaze from your feet and let his own eyes linger on your face for a minute until he suddenly felt the urge to touch your forehead with his and chuckled.

      “Funny how you’re the one telling me stuff like that now.”

      “Well, we need each other’s reassurance, don’t we?”

      “Yeah, we do.” Small smiles were drawn on both of your lips, taking in the beauty of the light you both found while finding ways to dodge the undead and get out of the city alive. The presence you provided was enough to contribute to the solace you were both begging the heavens above for since the two of you got involved into the mayhem unwillingly and you treasured that every step of the way, promising to never leave and forget about each other once you had escaped the ghost of a town called Raccoon City and none of you were planning on breaking that no matter how easy or hard it was. You saw each other as gifts and you thanked the other for giving them to you. Words may not be enough but actions are so you two decided to thank the other by showing the desire and feelings you had caught along the way.

      “Please…kiss me, Leon,” you whispered, the warmness in your breath tickling against his lips, therefore sending more jolts of lust and tingles down to his crotch.

      “Wouldn’t ever object to that.” And with that, Leon pressed his lips against yours.

      The kiss was slow and uncertain at first, testing the waters to see if the other would pull back and regret the decision they had made. But once a few minutes had passed and nobody was pulling back, your hands grabbed onto each other’s body and pulled to bring yourselves closer to the point where you were certain that you could feel even the smallest details that formed you two before Leon made himself comfortable on top of you without breaking the fiery hot kiss.

      You eventually felt the need to take in some air and so you pulled away and watched as Leon removed every single article of his police uniform, only straddling you with his boxers that were barely making his hardened length unseen by you.

      “Please, tell me you want this, too,” Leon pleaded, his palms resting on your sides.

      “I want you, Leon…so badly.” And that was enough for Leon to take all of your clothes except for your panties that were surely ruined by your own arousal and pressing his mouth back onto yours, exploring your slick cavern with his tongue and melding your saliva with his. Your hands work their way around his body, feeling each crevasse, each line along his perfect physique while his ventured over yours, exploring as much region of your body as he could.

      The way his lips painted your body felt so surreal but at the same time…natural. It was like he was writing a beautiful poem with your skin as his paper, an unspoken story worthy to be told. Who would’ve thought that such a wonderful tale could be made inside the horrors of your future past?

      Usually, when people read and write stories like these, all they could focus on were the fear and trauma that each character had endured throughout the book. It was very rare for us to focus on the bond and comfort that they had gained and most of them were poorly written and delivered. But Leon, he knew what he was telling. He was certain about his invisibly/visibly written confession to you and that showed on the way his gentle touches were affecting you.

      He held his length in his hand, slowly stroking to spread the pre-cum that dripped from his slit before entering inside your heat carefully, making sure not to let his own excitement take over him and end up hurting you, and moans were immediately released from your mouths.

      Leon took his time and let you adjust to his surprisingly huge size before slowly mimicking a backward and forward motion and he abruptly pressed his lips on yours to muffle both of your sounds to avoid attracting any unwanted guests.

      “Leon,” you whimpered as you took in the pleasure the man on top of you was giving you.

      “Fuck!” His movements started pick its pace, the urge to scream becoming a hard task to do as Leon repeatedly stroked the root of your clit and he was struggling himself at how tight and wet you were. You for sure knew that a puddle of your nectar was pooling on the mattress and the thought of someone who thought it was a great idea to come back here to investigate shit amused you so much that you would’ve laughed if Leon hadn’t rammed himself inside of you as his orgasm took control of his body, causing you to come closer to your peak. And with one last thrust, he released his seed inside of you while your warmth coated his cock, the delicious sensation causing you to arched your back and Leon to squeeze his eyes shut.

     Fuck, that was good!

     “Shit! I thought I was gonna die right there,” you panted. “I thought Officer Leon Kennedy was vanilla.”

      “Well, to be fair, with a body like yours? Who wouldn’t lose their innocence,” he slyly remarked, a snarky wink perfectly ending his cheesy sentence.

      “Sure, Leon. Come here.” You reached your arms up to wrapped them around his body that was coated with perspiration before pecking his lips once he had leaned down to your level.

      “Well, shall we get a move on?”

      “Lead the way, super cop.”

+++++++++++++++++

I did not intend this to be this long and I wrote this, like, in three days bc my laziness is really tempting XD. Hope you enjoyed this though.

[buckyownsmylife]

white winter hymnal - tom hardy smut

The one where you’re Tom’s PA and you two get snowed in.

Warnings: smut, boss/employee relationship, dirty talk, kind of sexist remarks?, that wasn’t my intention, but maybe that’s how you’ll see it, so I should warn you about it, reader is very sex positive in this fic, idiot in lust, PA!Reader, jealous!Tom, kinda possessive! or maybe asshole!Tom, again it wasn’t my intention, I just wanted to write some dirty talk, use of the term cockslut and another that I can’t remember, or maybe it was cockslut twice

A/N: I’m not really satisfied with this collage, but this will have to do 🤷‍♀️ Anyway, here’s another anon request I received a while back. Please take everything Tom says as nothing more than dirty talk. Also, I did that thing where I wrote a pre-POV intro, idk if it’s any good but when the inspiration hits, I just roll with it ✌

Y/N wasn’t having a good week at work. It wasn’t that something wrong had happened - actually when you considered the cold facts about what had left her feeling so high strung that a simple touch almost made her moan, anyone would think she was crazy. Those were nice things, good situations that she’d found herself in.

But she’d disagree emphatically. There was nothing nice about the fuck-me eyes with which Tom, her boss, had regarded her when she arrived on set with the pencil skirt that she knew made her ass look great. There was nothing nice about the way he’d commented on how she was out to get him, making his life more difficult because of the way she was dressing. There was nothing nice about how he had kept on complimenting her, telling her how pretty she looked with her hair down, or how he joked about how it must have hurt when she fell from heaven.

And especially, there was absolutely nothing nice about the subtle, fleeting touches he’d decided to shower her with, leaving her burning and more aroused than she cared to admit, considering how innocent they actually were. Tom had been flirting with her ever since her job interview, it was nothing new and she should have gotten used to it by now.

But the truth was that she didn’t, she couldn’t. And who could really blame her, when every day it seemed like Tom stepped up a notch, making it harder and harder for her to ignore his advances and keep things professional between them?

Especially considering just how badly she needed to get off and just how attracted she was to him and his stupidly perfect body and damn hypnotizing smirk. She was only human, after all. A human woman with healthy desires that seemed to revolve exclusively about her boss.

God, she was pathetic. At least, she could always count on Saturday nights. That was the time she managed to escape the acting world and the craziness of the set where they had been filming for the last month to go to the bar and find someone who’d take her home and help her deal with her growing levels of horny.

If it weren’t for random strangers who knew what to do in bed, she wasn’t too sure she wouldn’t have succumbed to Tom’s spell and climbed him like a tree already. And that’s where she was headed, just after she stopped by his rental house and went over their schedule for the week ahead.

She’d get through this, she thought as she made sure her coat was tightly wrapped around her waist before exiting her car and running towards the front door, ignoring the snow that had been lightly falling since that morning. Just two more hours and she would be on her way to drowning her needs in another stranger’s body, just to pretend that she didn’t think about Tom during the entire act.

Yeah. She could totally do this.

Tom was screwed.

He had been since he first laid his eyes on her, some five months ago, just before they moved to this fucking freezing country to start filming for his next movie. He knew even back then, he should have thanked her with a smile, explained that she wasn’t right for the job, and asked her out. The fact that she was the best person for the job shouldn’t even have counted, because he was head over heels for her in that first meeting, how the fuck could he keep himself away when she was supposed to be working by his side every minute of every day?

In the end, the idea of having to wait until the end of filming to actually get to spend some time with her made him take the impulsive decision that led him to this situation. Having her so close, but nowhere near what he wished for.

It was hell on Earth. Especially since he knew she felt the same way, he could see it in her eyes, in the way she squeezed her thighs together every time he so much as looked her way. If only she wasn’t so unbelievably professional.

“Tom?” He heard her sweet voice calling out from downstairs and casted a glance at the window. The snow had been gradually building up since that morning, it was a surprise she had managed to reach his house in the first place. But of course, she would never let something as silly as the weather keep her away from her responsibilities.

With a low chuckle, he made his way to the living room, rubbing his hands together to create some warmth despite the heaters that were working overtime since he arrived at that house. It didn’t matter, it was still too fucking cold.

“Ready to go over your schedule?” He trailed his eyes over her body, taking notice of the dress she was wearing over the warm leggings. What day was it? Oh, right. Her day off started the minute she finished this one last task, and then she’d be off to…

He knew where she’d be off to. Thinking about it made him see red, especially since he didn’t have the opportunity to do the same where they were. He envied her, but he envied the lucky bastard that got to fuck her tonight even more.

“Of course,” was all he said, assuming a spot on the seat next to hers on the couch. She visibly tensed, but then threw him a small smile that seemed to try to ease her own nerves, to which he returned with a grin of his own.

“What are you all smiley about?” It was nice to see her more laidback, it was clear that the prospect of letting off some steam tonight was relaxing her. Tom could work with that. In fact, it just made his plans that much easier.

“I can’t imagine how someone could be near a woman as beautiful and not be happy, sweetheart.” Her smile immediately dropped, her eyes growing twice their size as he maintained his grin. “But let’s get on with it, shall we? I have a lot to plan out with you.”

She raised an eyebrow at his lack of interest in continuing to mess with her but shrugged it off before opening her planner. They did have a lot to talk about before she could finally leave to the nearest bar.

Tom chanced a glance out the window as she tried to locate their current week on her faithful notebook. This might just turn out the way he needed it to be.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Aaaand… I guess this finalizes your schedule for the next week,” I commented as I made sure to correct the time for a phone interview Tom would be having on the following Friday, before glancing up at him. He’d been mostly quiet for the last few minutes, a stark difference from how he had behaved during the entire meeting. Through all my time working for him, it had been the first time he was actually really present for the scheduling of his following week, making changes and trying to be sure that it would go as smoothly as he wanted it to be.

It wasn’t an unwelcome change, but it sure was peculiar. And by now, I knew him enough to get that there was definitely a hidden reason for him to be behaving this way. Still, I couldn’t yet grasp what it was that he had planned, so I resigned myself to getting through with what I intended to do for the day, and thankfully, that was now done.

“Well, if you won’t be needing me anymore, I’ll be getting out of your hair now.” I smiled softly down at him when I left the sofa, making quick work of my scattered papers and random pens before straightening out to say goodbye. “What?” I had to ask since he was looking at me like he was trying to contain his laughter.

“Well, first of all, sweetheart, I always need you. Perhaps not in the way you’re supposed to help with, according to your job description, but it’s the truth.” I had difficulty maintaining eye contact after that, opting to stare at the mountain of documents in my hands while I fidgeted from one foot to the other, feeling the arousal inside of me sparkle before starting to burn even more intensely. Why did he have to be so honest about wanting me?

“Second and perhaps most importantly… I think you’re stuck with me for the rest of the evening, love.” That made me look at him again, desperate to find any signs that he was only toying with my emotions, anything to show me that he was only playing. But all I got was a nod of his head, pointing towards the windows, and that’s when it hit me.

We were snowed in.

A lot of different feelings took over me at the realization. First, there was despair. What would I do now that I couldn’t go to the bar? Then, there was anxiety. How the fuck was I supposed to survive spending the night with my boss - to whom I was attracted to - in a house with a single room in it?

Finally, sheer panic set in, making me shake my head in frustration. I’d never be able to find enough control to resist him without the release that my weekly escapades granted me. And by the way he stared up at me, with those darkened eyes filled with lust, I could tell that he knew.

I watched with a trembling body as he slowly rose from the seat and made his way to me until we were chest to chest. His eyes ran up and down my body until they finally settled on mine again, and I had to bite down a whimper. 

That’s how weak I was for him. He could reduce me to a wanton mess with a fucking stare.

“You’re scared.” It wasn’t a question. Both he and I recognized it as a fact. Still, I whispered into the air between us, “Yes.” Immediately, he pressed on. “Of me?” I almost melted at the sight of such a burly, strong man, towering over me and devastated at the prospect of threatening me.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I waited for her answer with a heavy heart, but the hopeful expectation that she did actually feel just the same as I did: scared at the prospect of what could happen between us, but equally excited. 

“No.” I tilted my head at the word, curious as to what was her explanation, then.

“Then what?”

“Of what could happen if I let go of my control. Of what I would become.” Slowly, a smile took over my face, and I finally felt confident enough in her feelings to feel like I could touch her. So I raised my hands to hold her hips, rejoicing in just how small she was in comparison to me. It felt like I could very easily pick her up and take her - in whichever way I wanted. And there were a lot of them.

“Let go,” I whispered in her ear, having leaned down so I could compensate for our difference in height. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you without that precious control of yours.”

Goosebumps had spread all over her skin at the difference in temperature of my breath and her skin. I watched in fascination, following their trail, rubbing my nose across her jaw before finally, her lips were inches from mine. And then they were mine.

I possessed her mouth just like I’d fantasized for so long, desperate to make up for the lost time, for all the nights I spent alone thinking about her while she was off with someone else. And she responded just in kind, her arms barely able to embrace my body, but her palms were spread over my back, pulling me closer, and that was more than enough for me. 

For now, at least. Now that I’d captured her on my web, there was no way I was letting her go before I fulfilled each and every one of the dirty, dirty dreams I had about the two of us. I was going to ravish her. I was going to ruin her.

She let out a tiny whimper when I pried her lips open with my tongue, before melting in my arms as I explored her mouth, basked on her taste. “You know there’s no way I’m letting you go now, right?”

By the way she looked at me with hazy eyes, it was clear that there would be no resistance from her whatsoever. She was pliant and soft in my hands, easily following when I picked her up and climbed up the stairs to my room with her in my arms. And then, when she was on the bed, there was just no way I could control myself anymore, not even long enough to take off our clothes properly. So I just flipped her skirt up, before ripping apart her leggings and finding her underwear absolutely drenched for me.

“Fuck,” I whispered, already reaching out to rub my thumb over her nub, making her gasp and cry out for me. “I can smell you dripping through the fabric, sweetheart.” To my pleasure, she didn’t seem coy about it at all. 

Oh, no. My little assistant, the picture-perfect of professionality was licking her lips, frantically nodding to my indication. “For you, I’m always dripping for you.” A smirk took over my face at her confession, my cock hardening even more at hearing that while I was suffering silently all that time, so was she.

So I ripped her underwear to shreds, spreading my hands over the inside of her thighs to get the perfect view of that pussy that had been haunting my dreams. “Shit, I can’t wait to eat that.”  And with only those words as warning, I dove right in, attracted by the sweet smell that made my mouth water.

She was just as sweet as I thought, but the sounds with which she filled my bedroom were what drove me crazy. I couldn’t close my eyes to fully appreciate her taste, too transfixed by her beauty, unable to believe that I finally had her, that it was her pussy I was currently lapping.

“Damn, look at you,” I hummed against her clit, making her jerk and try to pull away for a split second before I threw an arm over her hips to secure her position. “You fought so hard against your instincts, only to end up right here, spread open for me.”

With each word that left my lips, she seemed to get closer and closer to her release. “And to think you could have had my mouth on you all this time. Tell me, darling, do you think a stranger could make you feel better? Were any of the people you fucked, trying to ignore our connection, this great at making you cum?”

I could feel her muscles quiver under the soft skin of the inside of her thigh, and I doubled my efforts on her pussy, determined to see her cum at least once before I finally got my cock in her. It was throbbing now, begging for any sort of attention, but I was too transfixed by the sight of her reaching her high, the way her chest heaved as I quickly rubbed her clit with my tongue before sucking it into my mouth.

“Gimme your cum, baby. C’mon. Been waiting so long to get you in my bed…” She came as I hummed against her, the sensations obviously flipping her over that edge. “Fuck, you’re sweet.”

I kept on slowly cleaning her up, mindful of not hurting her, as she struggled to get her breathing in check. Despite her sensitivity, I couldn’t get myself to part with her taste just yet, even considering the possibility of eating her out some more, making her cum one or two more times before I fucked her properly.

But that was all before she fractured my control with two simple sentences. “Want some help with that? I’ve really been looking forward to getting your cock in my mouth.” I hadn’t even realized that I had been grinding against the mattress as I pleasured her, just to relieve my needy member at least a little bit.

What I knew was that I most definitely would not be able to hold back enough to feel her mouth around me. At least this first time. So all she got was a growl as I pounced on her, forcing her to taste her cum as I kissed those gorgeous lips and held her knees open to accept my weight between them.

“Right now, I’m gonna fuck this little pussy until you’re sobbing for me, okay, love? If you beg nicely, I might let you taste me later.” She whimpered in response, and a smirk took over my face. “Wow, you really are cockdrunk for me, aren’t you sweetheart?” The whine I got only made me laugh, giving me a little bit more control to tease her some more.

“You think you’re ready for me?” I asked, pressing the head of my cock against her clit, rubbing it with my member. “Are you sure you can handle my dick, darling?” Watching her thrash around the bed in an effort to get me to push into her was something I never thought I’d get to see. It made that moment of victory just that much sweeter.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I was trembling in anticipation to finally have him inside of me. To feel that fat cock stretching me open, filling me up like I’d always wanted it to. It was enough to drive me absolutely crazy with desire.

“Yes, yes, please, I can handle it. Please, stop teasing me,” I begged, my hands not able to choose what to hold as I struggled to keep myself from losing my mind over my boss’ cock. From the depths of my desire, I took notice of the way he smirked, one eyebrow raised up as he stared down at me, still slowly running the head of his cock between my pussy lips.

“Teasing? This isn’t teasing, love. Teasing is what you did to me, every single day since we met, parading everywhere with those fucking skintight skirts.” And with those words as preamble, he finally slid home, only stopping when he was completely inside of me, hitting my cervix and difficulting the now herculean task of remembering how to breathe again.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be this tight. I just fucking knew it.” Those were the last things I heard before he started pounding me against the mattress, barely having given me any time to get used to his thickness. 

If I thought I was losing my mind before, it became clear from the way he was bruising my insides that there was no possibility of me ever leaving this bed as a sane woman. Tom had managed to reduce me to a blubbering, stupid mess. He truly had turned me into his cockslut, I realized. I’d do anything just to keep being filled by him, over and over again.

“See? This is what you could have been having this entire time. Me and my cock. Instead, you just had to leave me for those random men. And while you were out, having your fun, all I had to keep me company was my own hand.” Tom never stopped the torturing pace with which he kept on fucking me as he slowly drove me crazy with his words. It was just unbelievable how great he was at dirty talk, I felt like I could cum already from the rhythmic attack on my sweet spot and the filth he was spilling. 

The mental image he elicited of him touching himself didn’t hurt, either.

“You’re so egoistic, sweetheart. Wasn’t it your job to serve me? Instead, I had to get off all by myself.” Despite the teasing nature of his remarks and the still brutal pace of his thrusts, his touch over my body was gentle, as he gathered my hair away from my face so he could bury his head in the crook of my neck.

“You… You could have had anyone you wanted,” I managed to remind him, starting to mirror his movements, fucking myself up on his cock. “You could have had anyone at all.” Abruptly, he stopped hiding his face against my skin, pushing away just enough to watch my expression - or maybe to show me his, in all of its seriousness.

“The only one I wanted was you. This was everything I wished for, since day one.” Tom raised himself slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts in a way that had me gasping in surprise, while also preventing me from being able to figure out what I could possibly say to that. So he continued, slowing the movements only a bit, but fucking me deeper, his eyes searching mine for something I couldn’t pinpoint. 

Tom’s P.O.V.

She gasped, finally giving up that last little bit of control and allowing herself to relax against the mattress as I did all of the work. “But now I have you, huh? And this is where you should be spending your days, with my cock deep inside of your pussy, keeping me warm, keeping me happy.” I kissed her before finishing, “Keeping me fulfilled.”

With a moan that electrified every single cell of my body, she came and prompted my own orgasm, and I spilled inside of her with a roar, momentarily losing my strength and falling on top of her body.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, darling. Let me get out of you.” But she stopped me from leaving her arms and her pussy, hugging me to her chest until I had no other choice but to cuddle her.

“It’s okay,” she said, fingers lightly running through my short hair. “I like it.”

I fell asleep that night happy because I understood that was her way of saying that she was satisfied with this development in our once strictly professional relationship. And I couldn’t wait to wake her up with another reason why she shouldn’t regret this.

[yourfangirlfriend]

It’s Nothing Serious - Chapter 5.5

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

A./N: 18+ as always.

This took a while to write but may be my favorite so far. 

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

Here’s the thing about Eloise: she’s surprising.

That first morning when they met, he had expected her to look away and shuffle out of the lobby, leaving him and Gabby to the post-coital pleasantries. The old woman who lived there before would always cross herself and look down when she saw him with one of his women in the mornings. Her, though- looks him straight in the eye and says good morning, with his name he didn’t tell her, then waltzes out with a smile on her face like she just put him in his place. Maybe she did.

   Then she’s there, again, after he gets a bullshit call from the office to come in. He almost doesn’t notice her, he’s so focused on getting a cigarette to calm him down. He’s got a curse ready when he realises his lighter is out of fluid and it’s the only fucking one he has, but then there’s a voice.

  “Need a light?”

  He looks over and it’s the same woman from the morning. She’s cute. Big eyes, long eyelashes like one of those dolls his cousins had as kids. The pencil skirt she’s got on is tight, tight enough he can’t help but wonder where she keeps the lighter she extends out to him.

  “Thanks,” he tells her. She waves him off, swinging the small purse from her opposite side to drop the lighter in. They stand there for a moment in the silence before he decides he owes her a formal introduction.

  And she gets him again.

  “My moms the author.”

  “What?”

  “I’m fucking with you.”

  It makes him smile.

    He wakes up earlier the next morning. Then the next. Then the next until it’s a routine. Usually, he’s not in the office until 9, but now that he knows there’s someone next door, he’s noticing more, like the sound of feet scuffling on carpet in a hurry and the squeak of a wardrobe swinging open. And once he starts to hear them, he can’t tune them out. It makes him anxious, listening to someone bustle around him as he lays doing nothing. He doesn’t like being unprepared.

  So he starts to get up earlier. Which means he leaves earlier. Which starts to mean he runs into her. When he starts to get shit at the office for it - look who’s here, what, the brothel stopped offering continental breakfast? - he tries to sleep in again. He’s determined to, but he can’t. Hearing someone so close busy themselves around him while he just lies down drives him crazy.

  So, he gets ready early now.

The coffee shop on the way to work is happy for the new business.

—————

He only stood outside smoking that first time because of the smell. He had left something in his fridge too long and the power cut off while he was at work, and now the whole apartment smelled rotten. He has tried smoking inside, fill the air with smoke, but it only made him sick. He decided he’d smoke outside until he’s numbed his senses. He doesn’t smoke outside to run into her. It’s just what happens.

  The second day the apartment still smells. The third day, too. That’s when she joined him for the first time, siding up beside him like they had been meeting there for years. After that, if he discovers that if he doesn’t have at least one cigarette outside, it’s all he can smell when he walks in.

  So, he smokes outside now. With her.

  Her and her little questions.

  He doesn’t mind them. Not at first. Not if it was just small talk. But she takes his answers and runs with them. He’s not just from Laredo, he’s from the part of Laredo she knows because she visited once when she was 11 and she remembers Señora Garza’s discoloured hands as they made sandwiches in his corner’s BBQ stop and is she still alive? Does he miss the food? She misses the food in El Paso. Had he ever been? She doesn’t blame him. It’s a long drive.

  What’s annoys him is that he answers each one. What annoys him more is that he catches himself asking her questions too. What annoys him the most is that he thinks about her answers even after she’s snubbed her cigarette and gone inside.

  So, he gets up earlier, because he can’t stand the sound of her getting ready around him. He smokes with her, because if he doesn’t smell the night air and her perfume and the smoke all he can smell for the rest of the evening is his fridge. Now he’s a guy who asks stupid questions, who listens and laughs at work stories. He’s still working out the ‘because’ for that one. He thinks it has something to do with the pencil skirts. Hopes it does, anyway.

    ———————

  He just needs to fuck her.

  That has to be it. He just needs it out of his system. Not the best circumstances, considering she’s his neighbor, but he’s lived with worse before. It would be worth it for the extra sleep and the money he’d save on coffee and cigarettes. For the self respect he’d regain once he stopped lingering outside around 5:30 every evening to smoke (also the time when she’s usually turning down the street, coming back from work).

  And she is cute.

  So that Friday, when she’s walking up the stairs - in another fucking tight pencil skirt - he’s ready with an invitation. And it goes much better than he thought. He’s a pretty confident guy, but even he has to admit having a pretty woman tell him she’s masturbated to him, all while her cheeks have a rosy flush and she’s so endearingly embarrassed yet daring, yeah, it makes his face flush. It also makes him realise maybe she needs this out of her system just as badly as he does.

  So he gets them another drink. He inches his fingers up under the hem of her skirt. And when she asks if he’ll walk her home, his hand is only a little clammy when when he reaches out and takes hers, leading her through the bar and out into the night.

  The sex is good. Really good, if he’s honest. But most first time fucks are, aren’t they? Well, first time, second time, and third time, in this case - like he’s back in fucking college. He blames the drink. He blames the pencil skirts. He blames the way she teases him in turn and the bites she leaves on his neck after he calls her baby.

  Before she leaves she makes him promise it’s not going to be weird, that she’d miss their smoking sessions, that they’ll be friends.

  He thinks back to all his friendships with women. Despite that, he tells her yes.

  Friends.

  ————-

   He’s never been a particularly good friend, either.

  Maybe that’s why when she comes out that Sunday afternoon, when his mind is still replaying the events from that night before, he snaps at her. Because she’s a fucking third grade teacher, and she’s sweet, and that pisses him off. Because her world is so far away from his. Because if she saw a kid get murdered, she could cry or scream and wouldn’t just have to press it down and just deal with it like he has to, because its just another part of his job. So when she comes out, her hair a mess and a big oversized sweater on her shoulders and those big eyes looking him up and down like he’s a real person and not the husk he feels like, he loses it.

  Mind your own fucking business.

  He stalks off, letting his feet lead him to the nearest brothel. He asks for Vanessa, and she takes him up to her room, but once his jeans are off and he realises he can’t. That in addition to feeling like shit about the night before, he now feels bad because he was so needlessly cruel. And even though Vanessa tries her hardest, and god, that girls hardest try is the best in the country, he pulls his limp dick from her mouth and pays her full price anyway, apologising as he fixes his jeans and leaves.

  He tries to shower. He tries to jerk off. He tries to down a glass of whiskey, then two, then a half a pack of cigarettes. But when he’s not thinking about how he’s a monster for the night before, he’s thinking he’s a dick for that afternoon. It gets to be too much. Maybe because of the drink or the guilt or just old fashioned masochism, he’s at Eloise’s door. When she stands before him, her arms crossed and waiting, biting back at him with his own words - mostly just minding my own fucking business - he nearly falls into a pathetic string of apologies there. I’m sorry. You’re good, I’m bad. I shouldn’t have bothered you. You deserve better friends.

  But then she lets him come inside. She lets him be a sad sack on her couch. And when he tries to leave, to protect her from the bullshit that’s spinning around in his head, she reaches out and grabs his hand, telling him to stay. Because she’s there, and she’ll listen, or she won’t if that what he wants, and that’s what friends do.

  Friends also, apparently, give you really good head, and let you work your anger and sadness and fear out by fucking them raw on their couch. Then, they let you fall apart to them, like a fucking kid, until they pull you against their warm body and press a soft kiss, much softer than you deserve, against your temple before lulling you into the best sleep you’ve had in months.

  When he wakes up and sees her still under him, her hand still in his hair as she sleeps, he has to remind himself who he is before he does something stupid, like curl his body around her closer or pull the blanket around them tighter or stay and make her coffee. So he slips out of her hold, gets dressed, and spends the next thirty minutes outside her unlocked door, until he finally hears her stirring and knows she’ll be safe alone.

  When Gabby comes over later, he makes up for the night before. Does his best to remind Eloise and himself who, exactly, he really is. Not soft. Not scared. And certainly, not a good friend.

  ——————

  She doesn’t let him off that easy, and he’s too stupid to untangle himself. It would have been so simple to just keep walking through those doors when she called out to him, keeping his down and ignoring her. To be the asshole. But despite himself, he’s pulling his cigarettes out and standing beside her once again. He’s asking about her day at work, about the kids (whose names he remembers- he doesn’t even remember some of his cousins’ names). When she turns to head back inside - her leaving him! - she squeezes his shoulder as a way of goodbye. It’s friendly, something he’d do to a colleague, but it makes his chest light in a way not even two more cigarettes and a guilty conscience can weigh down.

   ...

   He just needs to fuck her again.

   Surely, that’s the problem here. It’s not that their talks have gotten longer, or that her perfume lingers in the hallway, or that she makes him laugh more than anyone has in a while. It’s all because she’s been leaving the second button on her blouses undone, and he can see the faint mark he left not even a week earlier. It’s because she keeps wearing those fucking skirts. And also, he is loathe to admit, she’s probably some of the best sex he’s had in a while.

  So, he’s not expecting her to turn his invitation down. He’s especially not expecting her to look that good in that short black dress she’s wearing when she offers him a drink. The hour before her friends- her real friends - show up, his hands are itching as he watches her throat when she throws back drinks, or the v of skin that the fabric cuts over her breasts. He can already see her night ahead of her— bunch of empty headed lotharios pushing up against her, grinding on her on the dance floor, shouting offers for more drinks in her face. She’ll come home completely disillusioned and drunk, and really, it’s the friendly thing to do to offer her an out. Whatever she’s looking to find tonight is already next door.

  Well. He thought.

  When he pops his head out later that night, ready to generously extend his offer of companionship again, he’s not expecting to see some man- a fucking kid, even- pressing her up against her door, his tongue shoved down her throat. When she turns and sees them, he’s suddenly feels like a high school principal who just caught two teenagers making out at prom. She’s only a handful of years younger than him, but seeing her like this now, with some young, muscled hot heat sucking on her neck - you want a picture or something?- he’s never felt older.

  So, like the old man he is, he tries to go to bed and sleep the humiliation off. Only, this time, he’s the one pulling a pillow over his ears to muffle the moans coming from the other side. Whoever Issac is, he must have a 12 inch dick or vibrating fingers or both, because he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a woman be this vocal. It only hurts his ego a little bit (a lot a bit) that he had her in a similar position just days earlier with a much less vocal response. By the time they start again, less than thirty minutes later (fucking twenty year olds) he’s throwing the covers off him and stalking to the dresser for his cigarettes, deciding a night on the couch would be better than having to lay there and listen to her breathy little moans or his ugly grunts. As he comes to stand in front of the mirror, however, he catches his reflection in the light and frowns when another, girly gasp permeates the wall. Despite himself, he wonders how much better Issac looks naked, how he’s probably got a good back and defined muscles and not the body of a middle aged smoker with bags under his eyes and a small but present belly. For a moment he allows himself to wallow in self pity. But when another breathy shriek breaks him out of his trance, he huffs and snatched the cigarettes from the dresser, marching towards his living room and away from the noise.

  The next morning, when he catches her in her sundress (that he just knows she’s not wearing underwear beneath), he tries to mimic her cool demeanor from the previous week, when the tables were turned. There’s a look in her eye though, like she knows, a hunch that’s proved right when she saunters up to him and pulls the cigarette from his dumb speechless lips, taking a long drag and maintains eye contact with a smug little smile.

  Oh Javi, it’s not serious .

  When he’s jerking off on his couch ten minutes later, he imagines she and that sundress are on top of him, and what he does with his fingers turns that smug little smile into a breathy ‘o’.

   —————————

  More than anything, he’s pissed when he’s shot. The one time he didn’t wear the tactical vest and he gets clipped. He hates being fussed over, and Murphy’s being such a mother hen about it- he even calls his estranged wife and asks her to rattle off advice to his partner over the phone, like he hadn’t just spent an hour getting patched up. No drinking, no “rapid movements”, and you really should stop smoking.

  He picks up a pack on the way home.

  Murphy offers to stay with him, but the idea of having Steve hover over him is almost more off-putting than being shot again. So he sends his partner upstairs with his half of the take out - fucks sake, I’ll be fine- and goes into his dark little apartment. He shovels the luke-warm food in his mouth and sits in the silence and tries to think of anything else but the fact he’s been hearing music from next door, or how it’s already 8 pm on a Friday, and that if she’s home she probably doesn’t have plans, which means it would be really easy to knock on the wall and ask if she wants to share a drink he shouldn’t have. Her, a woman he shouldn’t be inviting over in the first place. Even if she is funny and biting and caring in a way that still makes him feel like he can breathe.

  Without thinking, he’s by the wall, fist raised and ready to knock, before he stops himself.

  There’s only one way this can go, given his track record, and she doesn’t deserve that. She’s sweet. She’s funny. And smart. Pretty. She could do a hell of a lot better on a Friday night that sit with him. If he were a good friend, he’d leave her alone and simmer by himself.

    ——————

  “Isn’t that shirt supposed to be white?”

  Javier has never been a particularly good friend.

  ——————

  When she falls asleep on his arm, her legs kicked out under the coffee table covered in ash and alcohol, he’s still up. He lies awake and stares at the ceiling, too aware of the weight of her head against him to relax into sleep, lest the sudden movement wake her and she leaves- which right now, under the safety of booze and cigarettes and hours of laughing, he can admit to himself - would be the worst thing to happen today.

...Jesus, the way that sounds.

Maybe, if he weren’t so drunk, and if he hadn’t almost died, and if she hadn’t come over and asked him questions about his mom and made him laugh and tried for thirty minutes to convince him to buy an actual boat, he would be able to snap back to himself and think clearly.

  But, right now, her head is on his arm, it’s dark outside, and Javier is warm.

  ——————

  She tried to leave. She had done her friendly duty- deposited him in bed, forced him to drink water, made sure he hadn’t choked on his own vomit in the middle of the night. She was almost free of him, but then he just pulled her down beside him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He wasn’t thinking. He should have just let her go, shouldn’t have invited her over in the first place.

  He waited for her to push back against him. Payback, maybe, for sneaking out on her the last time. Or just common sense shining through. But instead she pulled the comforter over them both and threw a leg over his middle, cuddling into his shoulder.

  Against his ear, she mumbled “These sheets better be washed.”

  ——————

  He woke to sound of someone knocking on his door. Eloise had somehow flipped her body diagonally, the way all women seem to do when they’re deeply, deeply asleep. He rolled out, careful not to wake her, before heading to the living room and unlocking the door.

  “Wow. You look like shit.”

  Javi sighed. “What do you want?”

  His partner held up a paper bag. “Took your bandages with me last night.”

  He reached out and took the bag, giving him a nod. “Thanks,”

  “You have a party?”

  Javi looked over his shoulder to the mess of a coffee table.

  “Allowed to celebrate cheating death, aren’t I?”

  “Uh huh.” The other man nodded to the pair of jeans on the floor. El has discarded them the night before after declaring them “too restrictive” when she had insisted on showing him how to do - and failed to execute- a handstand. “House call?”

  “Goodbye, Murphy,” he closed the door in his partners face, but not before hearing a muffled chuckle from outside. Stalking forward, he dropped the paper bag on the couch before picking up the bottle of pills and rattled them in his hand. He made back for the bedroom, thinking he could get away with sneaking a few while she was still out cold. He needn’t have worried, it turns out.

  “Give me two.”

  “These aren’t Tylenol, they’re real-“

  “Javier. Shut the fuck up and give me two.”

  He shut the fuck up and gave her two.

  ——————

  “I don’t want to eat. I want to smoke and go back to bed.”

  “You can smoke and eat. They did it in the 50’s all the time.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You’re supposed to eat with those pills, Javier.”

  “I’ll eat later, give me the pack.”

  “No. You’re having a piece of toast.”

  “You’re not my godda-what the fuck are you doing? Turn off the burner—-DON’T-“

  ——————

  Sucker.

  A goddamn sucker.

  Why else would he be pouring over a bunch of papers written by kids who could barely write?

  Why else would he check so often if he was doing it right? Like this actually mattered? He started off giving most of them a lucky break, but when he saw how concentrated she looked, biting the end of her pen and circling words with a flourish, smiling to herself when she gave a check or drew a little happy face, he slowed down. Now he was thinking more about comma use than he had in his entire life.

  It’s worth it, though, when she’s sat in between his knees, head bobbing up and down on him as she sucks him off. When she looks him in the eyes as she jerks him, smiling before licking up along the side, he almost comes embarrassingly early. He decides that he’d gladly spend two hours grading shitty sentences if it means he can watch you deep throat him every Sunday afternoon.

  He won’t draw smiley faces though.

  He had his limits.

  ——————

  He’s not too sure what possessed him to kiss her like that. Sometimes after they’re done and she’s pulled her clothes back on, she’ll bend down to the bed and give him a peck. Other times she just leaves with a wave. Once she slapped his ass. He liked that goodbye quite a lot.

  But this time, he’s reaching out and catching her lips in a kiss that’s much more than thanks for the fuck and the cigarettes, get home safe. Something in his body bypasses his brain, and it takes a lot of conscious willpower than it should to finally pull himself back, even more so when her mouth chases his.

  Later, when he’s sober, he’ll explain it away as a thank you for the weekend. Or that he was still horny. Or a combination of both.

  Either way-

  “Get home safe.”

  —————

  So maybe that’s why he decides he should really be giving you rides to work. Safety.

  That’s reasonable. That’s a friendly thing to do.

  The dinners are harder to explain to himself. He tries to reason you’re both saving money on groceries this way. He read somewhere in one of those awful magazines that the embassy has on waiting tables, the kind that haven’t been updated in years, that food waste is a problem in America.

  But saving the environment isn’t why he sticks around for fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, an hour after they’ve both finished your cigarettes. It’s not a bleeding heart for the whales that makes him hold his breath for her answer when he asks her to come in for a drink. It certainly has nothing to do with the urgency with which he bends her over his kitchen table, scattering the empty take out containers onto the floor, before hiking another fucking pencil skirt up over her hips. He wishes it explained it. Because then it would be easier to dismiss the way his hand begins to fall on her knee during the early morning commutes, or the way he can’t relax until he hears those three ridiculous knocks after she leaves him in his bed.

  He chalks it back up to her safety and tries not to think any deeper than that.

   ——————

  “Are you mad? ‘Baby?’”

  There’s something incredibly sexy about a woman who can beat you at your own game. There’s also something very, very sexy about how her mouth pouts around the word, sardonic and mocking as her tone is.

  He’s only got himself to blame. He made the first move by dismissing that 70s nightmare. She had walked past him that night at the bar multiple times, staring through him when he had waved. His rational side told him she was distracted by her girlfriends and the music and just didn’t see him, but the other side- the side he often found himself on when it came to women- was pissed. Maybe that’s why he picked up the first hot body that made eye contact with him, strategically leading her over to the bar where he could keep and eye on Eloise’s back- fuck, she did look good in a backless shirt- while keeping his new friend entertained. Just like he had wanted, one of her friends pointed him out to her, and she made for the bar minutes later. He was surprised when she struck up conversation with Miguel, Colombia’s answer to Sunny Bono if he’d ever seen one, and a little insulted, too, if he’s being honest. If she was going to try and make him jealous, she could have picked someone who didn’t look like his parody. So when - ah fuck, what was her name, Maria? Lourdes? Doesn’t matter - went to the restroom, he took the chance to intervene and ruin her little game.

  What he didn’t expect was that she’d hit back harder.

  “Are you mad? ‘Baby’?”

  No. Not mad.

  Impressed. Challenged. Uncomfortably hard against his jean’s zipper. But not mad.

  But she likes being fucked rough, so he plays along. He grabs her by her hair, pushes her into her apartment, and takes her up against her door. When she’s just about to cum, he pulls out of her and tries not to laugh when she whips around with that crazed, angry look in her eye. It doesn’t take much (who is he kidding, he was never going to leave) before he’s got her bent over the sofa, pumping into the wettest, tightest cunt he may have ever felt in his life.

  The most unforgivable thing, though, and the moment that played through his mind as he drove home the night he should have died, was how she deposited herself on his lap afterwards. How those slender fingers reached out and took his cigarette, like she always did, and smiled through the smoke down at him. Naked and confident and so fucking pretty.

  “Baby,” she had called him, and it sent a jolt through his chest. “I would have asked which pharmacy you want me to pick your meds up from.”

  When they were in her shower an hour later, inadvertently testing just how non-slip her bath mat really was, he replayed her voice in his head. Baby, baby, baby.

   ————————

  He knew before he even stepped out of his car where he was going. And that scared him.

  He wasn’t this guy. He had made sure of it. It was best for everyone. It made him good at his job. He saw fucked up shit, did fucked up shit, but he never made it anyone else’s problem who wasn’t already there beside him, watching and participating. He managed it with drinking and denial and never hanging a picture of his mother up, afraid to meet her eyes and recoil at what she would think of him, even though she was years dead. If it was really bad, he went to see one of his girls- they weren’t stupid, they wouldn’t ask questions, and he always tipped them for it.

  He didn’t talk about it. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to have his hand held or a shoulder to cry on because if he started now, he didn’t know if he could stop. And that meant he’d lose the hard shell that made him able to keep doing this goddamn job every single day, and that would mean everything he had done, all the fucked up decisions made for the greater good, whatever that meant anymore, would be for nothing.

  But now, he’s standing in front of her door, hands shaking at his sides, trying to decide what he’s more afraid of: being alone or letting her see him like this. He had gone to her, maybe stupidly, after he saw the kid get shot, but that was different. That was an explanation for being a dick. This was seeking comfort. Intimacy. The antithesis of the system of drink fuck repress and repeat that had served him so well for the past ten years. He should have turned and walked to his apartment. He should have gone out the door to the nearest brothel and made a fool out of himself in front of some girl who saw this shit thirty times a day. He should have never started smoking to Eloise in the first place, because that led to talking and that led to sex and that led to the inconvenient, humiliating feeling that now filled his chest whenever he saw her or smelled her perfume and drove him to do stupid things like stand on her doorway at midnight ready to fall apart. If she was smart, she’d be asleep or ignore him. It’s what he deserves.

  But he knocks.

  And she comes running.

  ———————-

  He doesn’t do tender. Not like this.

  He doesn’t like to be taken care of. He’s the one who takes care of people, in his own messy, selfish, fucked up way. It makes him feel like he’s failing at the one thing he’s supposed to do - be the strong one, protect the innocent, whatever crap they peddled about his job. To be weak like this feels like admitting defeat, to admit that something finally got to him in a way he may not be able to bounce back from.

  He’s ashamed when he walks in and pours himself out like he does. He’s even more ashamed that he couldn’t just deal with this on his own, and his first instinct had come to her and fuck up her night. It’s almost like he can see himself from across the room, and he wants to reach out at stop his dumb ass from falling apart so spectacularly like he does. She doesn’t deserve this, and it’s not her responsibility. He worries that by doing this, he’s wrecking the only safe harbour he’s got left in the country. She is fun and light and blow jobs and laughter and good tequila, and he’s poisoning what they have by being so disgustingly raw in front of her.

  He waits for her to finally break and tell him it’s finally too much. That he’s a shithead cop who has done nothing but annoy her since they first met. That maybe he’s getting all that he deserves, at last, for all the awful things he’s done, and she rightly doesn’t have any sympathy for a man like him. This was fun, Javi, but I didn’t sign up for this.

  But that’s the thing about Eloise. She’s surprising.

  So when she reaches his hand out, he doesn’t quite believe her. She has to reach down and take it herself before he’s standing up and following her down the hall, not completely in control of his own body. He’s dumbstruck as she undresses him, so softly, like he’s something that could break underneath her help. It’s not until he’s pressed against her and she’s kissing the top of his head that he finally, finally lets go and lets himself believe that maybe he can have this, just for tonight.

So he pulls her closer, and he lets a sob rock through his body, and he tries not to cry when he feels her grip him tighter in response.

   When he wakes up, he knows he should let her sleep. She’s got work tomorrow and he’s got to go back to the embassy with a straight face and determination to get back to work. He had his moment of weakness, and now he should leave her alone. Slip out of her hold and her apartment and, if he was a good man, out of her life all together.

  Javier’s never been a particularly good man.

  So he reaches for her and cups her cheek. When her eyes flutter open and she says his name, so soft and so full of concern, his chest expands.

  He’s not good with words. Not the ones that matter. So he does what he is good at. He pulls her against him and kisses her and tries to treat her as gently as she treated him, like somehow if he could do this right, she’ll know. From the way she keeps her eyes on his as he pushes into her, he thinks she does.

  He wishes he was better. He wishes he could just tell her these things during the day, when he’s thinking straight, not just when he’s emotionally cored out. She deserves someone who can use their words, who don’t need to be at their very bottom and most needy to realise something that’s been growing inside them all along. He hates that in the morning, he’s going to look back at this and cringe at just how intimate and vulnerable he let himself be around her, that he’s going to have to brick himself back up just so he can get back to doing his job. He wishes, pathetically, stupidly, that the entire world could just be this dark bedroom and the noises she’s making and the way she feels around him.

  When it’s over, he falls against her, still entangled and unable to let go quite yet. He tells himself he’ll roll off her before he goes to sleep, because staying like this, surely, would be too much. But then he feels her fingers on his back, running up and down his spine as he lays against her, breathing in the faint smell of perfume that still lingers on her skin.

  In the morning, he’ll have to deal with this. Have to decide what lie he’s most comfortable with telling himself. But for right now, he can admit this is what he wants.

  Sometimes he can be pretty surprising, too.

--------

taglist: @fuckoffbard

[ladydorian05]

Dangerous love - Javier Peña x Gn!reader

Okay, I finished it, finally!!! I don't have a lot to say about this except that it all began with a few lines provided by my brain in the middle of the night and then this happened.

A huge thank you to @din-damn-djarin​ she helped me so much editing this thing and with the ending (many parts of the ending were written by her).

Hope you guys enjoy it!!!

Dangerous love

Pairing: Javier Peña x gn!reader 

Summary: With Steve on vacation, it's up to Javier and you to check upon the new lead; unexpectedly the stakeout goes to shit and some surprising things happen after you jump at the first opportunity to endanger yourself. (I still don't know how to write this thing and I'll probably never learn.)

Warnings: Bullets, minor injuries, mentions of blood, what else, Javier’s potty mouth but with restraint, maybe a little of out of character behaviour at the end, no time line, fictional events. thoughts in italics. Spanish translations of long sentences can be found in ( ). And I think that’s it.

Word count: 5K and then some.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damn you Murphy, Why did you have to ask for vacation days right before we got a lead. Javier thought as he tried to get comfortable in his seat  behind the wheel, with Steve out of the picture, he was left to carry out this stakeout alone, alone with you. Inside the close quarters of his car.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like you, far from it actually. He just didn’t want to fuck things up with you now that he was finally able to put a name to the way he felt whenever he was around you. From the way his heart rate increased in your presence, to how much his thoughts revolved around you. Hell, he even stopped fucking around with his informants for the simple fact that none of them were you.

There was no way he was going to tell you. He couldn’t, your jobs were too dangerous. The slightest mistake could cost either of you your lives and the last thing he wanted was to put you in more danger than you were already in, even if he knew you could take care of yourself.  Besides, he didn’t deserve someone as wonderful as you.

“Okay, I got the snacks and here’s your coffee.” You said opening the door of the passenger side, taking him out of his thoughts. It was some kind of tradition between the three of you, getting snacks to make sitting inside a car for hours on end, waiting for something to happen, a little more bearable,”Any sign of our guy?”

He thanked you, taking the paper cup from your hand “And no, no sign of him or any of his associates.” he sighed before taking a sip from his coffee.

“Damn it, it’s close to midnight, either they appear in the next 3 hours or we’ll be stuck in here for another day.” You complained, leaving the bag with the snacks between you two. You were tired, even if you liked the extra alone time with Javier it was hard to enjoy it when both of you were sleep deprived, more than usual, and cramped inside his car for the second day in a row.

The lead was solid, the problem was they needed evidence that the house they were watching actually belonged to the guy you were after, once you got it you could take the information to Carrillo and mobilize resources to take him in. 

“Five says that we won’t get anything tonight either.” Javier says, taking a bag of chips for himself.

“Five what? Bucks?” You see him nod while stuffing his mouth with a handful of potato chips. You contemplate his profile for a moment before answering his bet, “Alright, I’m in. I have a good feeling about tonight.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, it's been quiet.”

“That’s mainly because Murphy’s not here.” You both share a laugh at your partner's expense. It was no secret that out of the three of you Steve was the most approachable. Javier was the known asshole of the embassy, you always tried to keep your guard up, what with being the new one, and Steve was just a ‘by the book’ kind of guy, even if being after Escobar made him bend some rules lately.

When you were first transferred to Colombia you were surprised that you actually got along just fine with both of your partners. You were the newbie, but they didn’t belittle you or underestimate you like you expected them to. However, you certainly never expected to end up falling for one of them.

As the months passed Javi became more than just your partner or friend, he became your confidant, you knew you could always talk to him. While he wasn’t the  most approachable person around the embassy, you found out he actually had a soft side. He was reliable, hard working, with a dry sense of humor, a ‘no bullshit’ attitude that called to you, and as much as he wanted to hide it, he cared deeply, even for things that were out of his control. The fact he was so fucking handsome didn’t hurt either.

You didn’t fall for him overnight, it was a steady, slow kind of change. It took sleepless nights pouring over documents, each taking turns getting more coffee to keep you both going;  late night conversations and laughs over strong alcohol to chase the stress from work away; having occasional dinner nights with him at his apartment or yours on those nights when the feeling of being alone in a different  country fighting a never ending war gets unbearable.

It wasn’t sudden, but it still surprised you when you realised your feelings for the DEA’s resident Cassanova were deeper than you thought. That was another thing that worried you, it was no secret where or rather from whom he tends to get information about the narcos you were chasing after. Even if he’s recently been more discreet about it.

“Heads up, we’ve got movement.” Javier brings you out of your thoughts, tossing the bag of chips back into the bag of snacks you brought. “Seems like you’ll be getting those five bucks after all.”

“Told you I had a hunch.” Both of you watch as a van parks in front of the house you’ve been watching, several men get out of the vehicle. You recognise a couple of them from the list of known people working for Escobar, most of them were foot soldiers.

You reached inside the glove compartment for the camera, hoping to get a few good pictures before they disappeared inside the house. This could be the missing link you needed to get to the guy that lived there.

“Hold on, don’t finish the film just yet,” Javi’s words give you pause as you start rewinding the camera to take another photograph, “another car’s pulling up.”

“Anyone we know?” You ask squinting to see who comes out of the other car parked away from the street lights lining the road.

“Fuck me...yeah, from the Cali cartel.” He answers, rubbing his chin with a hand.

“Shit, that can’t be good.” You lowered the camera. The change in the atmosphere around you was instant the moment both of you noticed the persons inside the other car were readying their guns.

“You have your gun with you?” Javi asks, reaching behind him for his own weapon.

“Never leave the house without it.”

“Good. When all hell breaks loose, and it will, I want you to find cover before you do anything else, got it?” You hear the click of the safety from Javi’s gun as you reach for the handle of your door; you can sense the familiar feeling of adrenaline as you ready yourself for what’s to come.

“Yeah, you better do the same.” You don’t get a response from him. In a matter of seconds, the once quiet street turns into a war zone. Gun in hand, you run for cover, ending up behind the wall of a house at the entrance of an alley.

You take a moment to breath and try to pinpoint Javier’s location. You see him poking his head from behind a wall on the opposite side of the street. You sigh, relieved to see that he got himself behind cover in time.

You can’t really do anything. It’s just you and Javier out here, you lacked both the numbers and the firepower. Minutes that felt like hours passed. You take a look at the shooting happening a few meters from your position before hiding again in the dark of the alley as three more cars arrived on the site. One of them coming up from the street you were in, you prayed that they didn’t notice either of you. It was clear that both sides had called for backup.

Fuck, now bullets were flying towards this side as well, it wouldn’t take long for them to start looking for a more solid cover than their cars. You see Javi come to the same realisation as he sends you a worried glance when your eyes meet. You needed back up too.

Neither of you expected something like this to happen, it was just a stakeout; you were horribly unprepared with no vest and only so many bullets. The moment they noticed either of you it was over. There was only one choice, you needed to call Carillo.

There was a phone inside the car. If you were fast enough you could dive inside the back seats of the car and grab the phone, you were certain Carrllo would still be in his office, he never left early. It would take him little to no time to round up a team and get to your position as fast as possible.

You turned to look at Javier after formulating the quick plan in your head and explained it as best as you could with your hands, asking him to cover your back. You watch him shake his head, gesturing with both hands for you to stay put. You know if you do as he wants they’ll find you sooner or later; with your plan, if everything went well, at least you both stood a chance of getting out of this alive and  there was even the possibility of taking some of them into custody.

You put the safety of your gun back on and  tuck it into the back of your pants for the moment. While looking at Javier straight in the eyes you slowly shake your head, watching as he spits out a curse you’re too far away to hear before diving out of your cover to get to the car.

Javier knew the situation would escalate badly for the two of you if they noticed your presence there, he was just holding onto the hope that they would be too engrossed in trying to kill each other for that to happen. He turned his attention away from the wall in front of him to check up on you, only to see the determined expression on your face. He’s seen that one before, you always looked like that before doing something brave, yet incredibly stupid that would no doubt end up endangering you.

What the hell were you thinking!? Javier understood what you were trying to say with your hands, your plan was insane. Yes, having backup would be really helpful, life saving even; but risking your life like that? No, he wouldn’t let you. He answered by very clearly telling you to stay where you were.

He swears his heart leapt out of his chest the moment you disregarded his instruction to stay put, tucking your gun in your pants before breaking into a run for the car. FUCK!

You left him with no choice but to do as you asked, there was no way in hell he was going to leave you even more open than you already were. Hopefully, with all the chaos going around, they wouldn’t notice you or where the bullets from his gun were coming from.

He tried to keep an eye on you while also paying attention to the altercation. The car wasn’t that far from your previous position, but considering the stray bullets raining all round, it was too damn dangerous. He was filing away in his head all the things he would say to you if- no, ONCE both of you were out of this mess. He wouldn’t let himself think of any other outcome, you were going to be fine and you would get out of this, both of you.

What was in reality a few seconds, felt like an eternity to him. You running alone, unprotected, straight into a firefight was a scene he’s only seen in his nightmares, the fact that this was really happening was worse than he had ever imagined.

He stopped breathing for a moment when he saw you stumble a little from the corner of his eye, but when he turned his full attention towards you, you weren’t there and the backdoor of the car was open. He sighed in relief, you made it.

Carrillo got there with backup in record time and these guys were still at it, they had the worst aim he had ever seen, it was laughable that the shooting lasted this long, but damn he was glad to see Carrillo and his men arriving. They blocked the escape routes, effectively cornering them and made quick work of subduing and cuffing any survivors.

He made his way towards you as soon as he was sure he wouldn’t get a bullet for stepping out from his cover, after all he would be of no use to you dead, but Carrillo noticed him first and stopped him halfway there.

You could hear the moment the backup arrived from your place on the floor of the back of the car. You were tired and probably in need of medical attention. You hadn’t felt the pain initially, too preoccupied with your madrun to get to the car and filled with adrenaline to notice. It wasn’t until things had quietened down significantly and the adrenaline began to seep from your body that you had time to assess your injuries and felt the searing hot pain blossoming in your arm and thigh. You weren’t sure if the bullets were still in there, if you had been hit anywhere else and just hadn’t felt the pain yet or how bad the bleeding was.

Slowly, you began to move in order to get out of the car. Hissing in pain when you had to use your leg to crawl to the opposite door, you figured it would be easier to keep moving forward and get out from that side than try to backtrack towards the one you used to get in.

The sudden movement of the door opening caught everyone who was close by off guard, some of the men actually pointed their guns at you.

“Whoa! Easy there, I’m friend no foe.” Scanning the area you spotted Javier with Carrillo, their attention focused on you, it seemed like they had been talking before you made your presence known. Javier walked towards you as the Colonel ordered his men to lower their weapons. “Hey, a little help please?”

He offered you his hand to help you get out of the vehicle. “Easy there, are you hurt?” He looked you up and down  searching for injuries and sure enough, he found them, “Fuck, you’re bleeding. Coronel, pida una ambulancia!” After telling the colonel to call for an ambulance he gently guided you away from the bullet hole ridden car to sit on the flatbed of one of the team’s trucks. 

Javier was uncharacteristically quiet considering the move you pulled off, you were expecting the scolding of your life, but he said nothing. He just hovered around you as the paramedics cleaned and treated your wounds, thankfully they weren’t life threatening, and gave one word answers when they asked him any kind of questions to find out if he was also injured. It was unsettling.

Anger you could deal with, you’ve done so on multiple occasions already used to his fiery personality, but this cold shoulder treatment...the only times he had ever acted like this had been when things got really bad or when he felt responsible for losing someone on the job. He would often shut himself out in situations like that,  but even then you were always able to get through to him and coax him into talking to you. 

Carrillo approached you once the paramedics’ job was done. “Mis hombres se encargaran de los malparidos. Yo los llevo de regreso a la base, necesitaran otro carro para ir a casa.” (My men will take care of the sons of bitches. I’ll take you back to base, you’ll need another car to get home.)

“Gracias por su ayuda Coronel.” You thanked him for the help, seeing as Javier still refused to speak.

“Al contrario, gracias a ti y tu llamada ahora tenemos arrestados no sólo a colaboradores de Escobar, sino también miembros del cartel de Cali.” (On the contrary, thanks to you and your call, we now have arrested not only Escobar’s collaborators, but also members from the Cali cartel.)

Javier went to retrieve any personal belongings from the car before following Carillo back to his truck. The ride back to base didn’t change anything, the three of you travelling in tense silence since Javier still refused to speak. It was a good thing the Colonel was never really a talkative man to begin with otherwise you’re sure he would have felt insulted by Javi’s current mood. 

Once back at base, Javier made quick work of the paperwork needed to take a provisional car while the one previously assigned to him was towed away and replaced. You decided to  put his odd behavior down to the stress of the night's events, thinking maybe that was what had him acting like this and hoping that maybe he would relax on the way home.

No such luck.

The car ride was infernally quiet and Javier’s mood only seemed to worsen by the minute, you could see his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. He pulled up in the building’s garage, killing the engine without so much as turning his head in your direction. You couldn’t take it anymore, the silence was suffocating you.

“Hey, I got a new bottle of whiskey if you wanna grab a drink?” The only answer you got was the sound of the door slamming shut behind him as he got out of the car. At first you thought that was a no, but when you got out he was standing by the car’s trunk waiting for you. 

You made your way through the building to the door of your apartment; the slight limp from the wound on your thigh slowing you down somewhat. It wasn’t serious, the bullet only grazed the outer side of it. Your arm didn’t have the same luck; still, it was nothing time, a few stitches and bandages couldn’t fix, but it still hurt like hell, you’ll be sure to take some pain meds before going to bed. Javier was following behind you. If he ever decided to quit being a DEA agent, you were sure he’d be able make decent cash playing poker with the expressionless face he had going on  at the moment. Well, he would as long as he wore dark sunglasses, otherwise his expressive eyes would probably give him away. 

You opened the door and turned on the lights of the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll get the bottle and the glasses.” You tell him as you toe off your shoes, leaving them in the entrance. You hear the door close and before you can make your way to the kitchen his hand darts up to grab the wrist of your uninjured arm.

“Javier? Wha-”

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Oh. So it was time for the scolding, he waited until you were alone for this, shit. Maybe you could play dumb?

“I was thinking about getting a little bit drunk before going to sleep.”

“You know what I mean. Back there, what the fuck were you thinking putting yourself in danger like that?” So, that was a no on the playing dumb thing then.

“Do you have any idea how lucky you were? You had no vest and still you ran headfirst into the open, you could’ve died!” He could feel the grip he had on his emotions slipping, all the fear, all the helplessness he felt the moment he saw you dive out into the rain of bullets rushing back to him.

“But I didn’t.” You knew he was right, it was a dangerous move, but it worked, it got you out of the tight spot. “Listen, I know it was dangerous, but it worked out.”

“So you were aware of how dangerously stupid that was and you still went ahead and did it!?” He let go of your wrist to pass his hand through his hair in exasperation,“To top it off, this isn’t even the first time you’ve pulled something like this, I don’t have enough fingers on my hands to count how many times your dumb luck has saved your ass.”

“Well excuse me for saving our asses back there!” You snap, your composure which you had managed to keep up until this point wavering, “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You think I don’t know about your little endeavours with the other side of this war?” How dare he act as if he’s never put himself in danger, as if he wasn’t playing with fire himself, “How’s Don Berna? When’s your next coffee date?”

His eyes widened in horror and all the blood drained from his face. Any other day this kind of reaction from him would’ve made you laugh, but right now it only gave you a strange sense of satisfaction.

“How do you know about that?” His eyes fixed on yours, both of you locked in a staring match until you’re silent for a little too long and he speaks again, demanding an answer, “Huh? Answer me. How. Do. You. Know. That?”

“I saw you with him.”

“You followed me!? You fucking followed me!?”

“Yes, I did! What did you want me to do!? We were stuck, stressed as fuck, with no new leads and you were acting strange! I was worried!”

“That didn’t give you the right to go and fucking follow me! And that’s beyond the point, that’s different!” Your once tense, but relatively controlled, conversation was now a shouting match. A match that would most likely end with no winner and your friendship on the line, but you’ll be damned if you backed down from this.

“How!? How is it different!? I run once or twice towards some bullets to save our asses and you get to lecture me about it, but I can’t bring up the fact you’re meeting with a sicario, behind both of your partners backs, in your free time!?”

“We’re not talking about me!”

“OH! So YOU can make stupid and dangerous decisions, but I can’t!? And YOU can call ME out on them, but I can’t call YOU out on YOURS!?” Every time you stressed a word you made sure to poke him hard in the chest with your index finger as if you really needed to emphasise your point anymore.

He let out a heavy sigh trying to cool down a little. You had moved at some point during the heat of the argument, both of you trying to get into each other's faces as you yelled back and forth and you were so close to him now that the puff of air lightly ruffled your eyelashes. Deep down he knew you were right, but the night events still hung heavy in his mind. For a moment, he swore you weren’t going to make it, he should’ve known better- should have trusted you, but that didn’t mean he would support every single insane plan you came up with.

“I just-”

“You just what!?” You interrupted him. He was beyond frustrated with this situation. He just had to go and open his fucking mouth. He could have just stayed silent, shared that whiskey with you and drink until he forgot all about this whole stupid situation and then gone to bed.

“I just want you to understand-”

“Understand what!?”

“Goddamnit.” he muttered under his breath.

“Understand what Javier!? Maybe if you stopped stalling and just said what you want to say I would!”

“That I fucking love you!” Shit. He drags the palm of his hand over his face as he contemplates his options, it’s too late to go back now he decides, “I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you!”  

“Well, I love you too!” 

The stunned silence that followed the unexpected confessions was deafening. Neither of you dared to move from your positions, until you saw his eyes flicker from yours to your lips and his tongue poked out to lick his bottom lip.

You don’t know who moved first, but at that point you don’t care. Your lips came together with his in a passionate kiss, all thoughts of your argument forgotten for the moment. You could only think about how good it felt to finally kiss him, you always believed that he would be a good kisser, but this was beyond anything you ever imagined, all your previous fantasies of what kissing your partner would be like fell in comparison to the real deal.

It wasn’t perfect; no, nothing in real life is ever perfect, but at the same time it was everything and more. There was no fight for dominance, it was just a coming together of two people, two people trying to convey with actions what has never been said with words. Months of pent up feelings finally finding release.

His arms were around you, one hand on your lower back and the other behind your head, pulling you ever closer while your own hands held the back of his head, fingers losing themselves between his short locks of hair. You were so drunk on him, you never wanted to stop, unfortunately, oxygen was a necessity. Slowly, you pulled apart from each other, leaving little pecks on his lips as you went. 

“Fuck, we’re a mess.” He said, breathing heavily as he rested his forehead against yours.

“Did you mean it?” You ask, finally finding your voice after taking a few deep breaths.

“Every word.” He answered, pulling you into another much slower kiss.

“Good.” You said against his lips the next time you parted. “Because I do too.” You were going to go in for another kiss, but you felt the pull of the stitches on your arm when you tried to bring his head closer, making you flinch in pain.

“You okay?” He asked, noticing the sudden movement.

“Yeah, just...the stitches are bothering me.” You said with a grimace.

“Fuck. I forgot about them.” He slowly detangled himself from you as not to hurt you further. “Let’s sit down on the couch, there’s more light over there, let’s make sure you didn’t reopen the wound.”

“It’s alright, just a bit sore, that’s all.” You gingerly touched the bandage covering the stitches. He called your name, to get your attention back.

“Please. If only for my peace of mind.” With a sigh, you agreed. He left his hand on your lower back, gently guiding you to your couch. He began to remove the tape that kept the gauze in place over the stitches as carefully as he could manage. “Thank you, your plan really did save us.” You stared at him in surprise, you weren't expecting that. “But you really need to be more careful. Do you have any idea how I felt when you just ran out?”

You shook your head.

“I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

“You’re not THAT old.”

“Excuse you, I’m not old at all.” His eyebrows raise at your words and there’s a look of mock offense written across his features.

“That’s not what your cracking back says.”

“If we didn’t spend so much time behind a desk my back wouldn’t sound like fireworks going off every time I stretch.” Your eyes found each other for a moment before both of you ended up laughing. “No, but seriously. I don’t know What I would’ve done if anything had happened to you. Please, don’t risk yourself like that, don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“You know I can’t promise something like that...but I’ll try.”

“I can work with that.” He focused back on removing the tape without further upsetting the wound.

“I’ll be more careful, but in return, I want you to do everything you can to cut all ties with Don Berna. I don’t care how much information he gave you or keeps giving you, it’s not worth it if you’re going to end up in the middle of both sides.”

He took a deep breath before letting the air out. “I am trying, but it’s a delicate subject, I need to watch my steps. I reached out to him on a whim, and even if I got some good stuff from him, I’m not stupid, sooner or later he’ll cash in the favor.”

“Be careful, please.” He nodded.

Once the tape was out of the way, he looked at your stitches without touching the skin around them, not wanting to cause any kind of infection, once he saw that none of them needed to be redone, he covered them again.

“Alright, all’s good, let’s get you to bed.” Your eyes widened at his words.

“Javier, not today, I’m tired and my leg hurts and-” You’re cut off by his chuckle.

“To sleep. Jesus, get your head out of the gutter. Go get ready, I’ll bring you some pain killers and a glass of water. Whiskey’s not going anywhere, we can have it another day, you need to rest.”

When he came into your room you were already in your pajamas, taking your pants off had been tricky but you managed it without disturbing your wounds too much. He hands you two pills and a glass of water, you thanked him before swallowing the pills with some water. Leaving the glass on your nightstand, you make yourself comfortable in your bed.

“Well, I’ll umm...I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nods his head in your direction before turning to leave.

“Javi, wait.” You call before he reaches the door. He looks back at you over his shoulder, “Could you stay?”

His eyes widened in surprise before answering “Of course, sweetheart.” He’s quiet as he takes off his shirt, shoes, socks and moves to climb under the covers.

“Do you sleep in jeans? Isn’t that uncomfortable?” he freezes in place, one knee on the bed and one hand lifting the corner of the thin sheets covering the bed.

“No, I- I usually sleep in boxers.” he lowers his gaze to the bed, “I just don’t have any with me right now.”

There’s a moment of silence as you process his words before you burst into laughter.

“You- you mean- you’re not-” you try to talk in the middle of your laughing fit, but only manage to get a few words out.

“Yeah, I’m not wearing any underwear,” you swear he almost looks embarrassed “get over it.” he mutters.

“Sorry, I just-”you try to calm down, but can’t help the giggles that still escape your lips. “What, did you have plans for after the stakeout?” The question came out jokingly; maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to ask after what happened in your foyer, but deep down you wanted to know. You trusted him in any other way, could you also trust him completely with your heart?

“No.” He looks you in the eye and you notice that he understood the double meaning of your question. “I don’t do that anymore, for some time now. ”

“Oh.”

Once he settles, you reach over to the nightstand turning off the small lamp that sits there. You can’t see Javi in the darkness of the room, but you know there’s still something playing on his mind from the way you feel him fidget beside you. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, reaching out for him across the small distance that separates the two of you. Your hand finds his shoulder and you run your fingers up and down his arm, enjoying the way he relaxes under the touch. 

“It’s nothing, go to sleep.” 

“Javier.” You warn, much too tired to argue but determined not to sleep until you get to the bottom of whatever's bothering him.

“I’m still thinking about what happened earlier...loving you can be quite dangerous.” Javier sighs, “You know that, don’t you?”

“It’s just as dangerous as loving you.”

“What a pair we make huh?” 

“We’ll figure it out.” Your voice is laced with exhaustion and you shuffle closer to him, nestling your head under his chin and wrapping an arm around his body, “We’ll be fine.” 

He hums in agreement, his arm hovering over you but not quite touching.

“You can touch me you know?” You say with amusement.

“Your arm- I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t. I promise.” You smile, pecking a kiss against the first patch of skin you can reach.

He lowers his arm tentatively, wrapping it around you and pulling you closer to him.

“Goodnight.” You mumble against his chest, sleep already beginning to pull you under.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He whispers into your hair, listening to the way your breathing has evened out. Sleep has never come easily to Javier, but that night for the first time in months, it does.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed) :

@oloreaa @16boyfriends-and-me​ @ilikechocolatemilkh​ @crossfitjesusinblackskinnyjeans​

[livesincerely]

Keepsakes from Jack’s POV? (That fic broke my heart and fixed it all at once. Absolutely beautiful!!)

trinkets

Also on Ao3. Davey’s pov here.

00000

Even after all the trouble he went to getting the address, Jack almost decides not to go. Les’ text message stares up at him accusingly when he double checks his phone, Davey’s new apartment number listed with the blunt instruction, ‘Don’t fuck this up.’

Easy for him to say. Jack’s still not sure how things fell apart in the first place.

He rings the doorbell, his stomach rolling with nerves, and for one terrible second he thinks that maybe no one’s home, or even worse, that maybe that Davey just won’t answer for him.

But the door creaks open.

“Jack,” Davey says, more of a statement than a question, his eyes wide with shock.

Jack’s heart swirls and swoops in his chest at the sight of him. Davey looks just the same as he did when they last saw each other, just the way he always looks in Jack’s dreams and his nightmares—long and lean, with big blue eyes made even brighter by the lush lashes that frame them.

“Hi, Davey,” Jack says, shoving his hands into his pockets so he doesn’t drag Davey into a desperate embrace.

“You...” Davey pauses, visibly uncertain, his fingers clenched in a death grip around his doorframe. “What are you doing here?”

“I got the address from Les,” Jack explains, and it sounds like such a flimsy excuse now that he’s saying it aloud. “I’m in town for the week visiting Ma and Charlie, thought I could swing by and see you for a sec.”

“Oh,” Davey says.

“So, uh, can I come in?” Jack asks, nervous.

“Oh, right,” Davey mutters, holding the door open wider and beckoning him forward. “Yeah, sure. Please, come in.”

It’s a nice apartment. Jack recognizes a lot of the furniture in the entryway and living room from when they were living together, and he spies a few picture frames hanging in the hallway that he’s pretty sure he picked out himself—the scattered reminders help something settle in his chest even as something else fizzes and buzzes behind his eyes.

“You moved out of the old place,” Jack can’t help but point out as he takes it all in; he’s been wondering about the change ever since he found out Davey moved.

“It was a bit too much for just one person,” Davey says quietly. “A smaller apartment is easier to keep up with.”

There’s a brief pause where that statement hangs in the air between them, heavy and awkward. Jack feels like an absolute heel—of course Davey wouldn’t be able to make rent on their old place by himself, and it’s not like there’d been space for a housemate. Of course he’d had to move.

Davey continues, “Can I get you anything? Soda or coffee or...?”

“Coffee would be great, actually,” Jack says, not really all that interested in a drink, but happy for an excuse to linger for a while. “But, uh, only if it won’t put ya out.”

“It’s no trouble,” Davey says, and Jack can’t tell if he’s being honest or just being polite. “Here, go ahead and sit down and I’ll fix you a cup.”

Jack settles down onto one of the stools at the island while Davey putters around the kitchen, taking a moment while Davey’s back is turned to just look at him.

He needs a haircut, Jack thinks, noting the way Davey’s fringe falls into his eyes as he fiddles with the coffee maker—just long enough now that it’s starting to curl up at the ends, making him look even softer then he usually does—then sort of hating that he’s noticed.

He shouldn’t care. He knows he shouldn’t.

But he does.

“So, how have you been?” Davey asks, head ducked down to watch the coffee brew. “How’s Santa Fe been treating you?”

“‘S good,” Jack says, talking out his ass, too focused on the motion of Davey’s fingers as he drums them against the countertops, on the delicate line of his wrists peeking out from under his shirt sleeves, to pay attention to what he’s saying. “It’s great, it’s got everything: clear skies, gorgeous sunsets. If you go out to the desert at the right time of day the views are unreal. So, uh, life’s pretty good.”

Davey still doesn’t turn toward him, still won’t lift his head. It’s making something go uncomfortably tight in Jack’s chest, his pulse beating a few ticks faster in his ears.

“And work’s going well?”

“Real well,” Jack tells the back of Davey’s head, and as he watches, Davey’s shoulders stiffen. “Now that I’ve been there a while they’re startin’ to give me my own projects to work on, which is great. Nerve racking, and I’m constantly terrified that I’m gonna fuck it all up, but great. Honestly, the studio space and the stipend I get for supplies on its own is pretty incredible, let alone all the experience and connections I’m getting too. So, yeah, things are goin’ well.”

“That’s great, Jack,” Davey says, and he actually sounds like he means it, but he still won’t meet Jack’s eyes. It’s kinda starting to piss him off. “I’m glad things are working out for you.”

“Couldn’t ask for much more,” Jack says, but he’s not quite able to mask the hint of bitterness that creeps into his tone—the one thing he’d ask for is standing right in front of him, but he might as well be on Mars for how vast the distance between them feels.

It’s just Jack’s luck that this is the moment when Davey finally, finally looks at him. It’s only a brief glance in his direction before his gaze falls away again, but even just that almost feels like too much: those eyes are as gorgeous as ever, and vividly, brilliantly blue.

Jack’s breath hitches in his throat—if he wasn’t still hopelessly, haplessly in love with Davey, he’s pretty sure that would’ve caused him to fall all over again. But he isn’t so distracted that he doesn’t notice the wealth of emotion swirling in that gaze: something vulnerable and pained tucked beneath Davey’s calm facade.

“How’re you doin’, Davey?” he asks carefully.

“Good,” Davey says to the coffee maker. “I’ve been good.”

“Yeah?” Jack presses, watching him closely. “Anythin’ interestin’ goin’ on?”

“Just the same old, same old,” Davey says, which doesn’t sound like a lie, but isn’t really an answer. “Nothing new to tell, honestly.”

“Nothing at all?” Jack says, relieved and annoyed all at once at this response, but trying to sound like he doesn’t care as much as he does. This is the best answer he could’ve hoped for, probably—he’s honestly not sure what he would’ve done if Davey started talking about how wonderful his life has been without Jack in it. He tries, “Did you ever end up gettin’ that transfer you wanted?”

Davey crosses his arms across his chest. “I, uh, rescinded the request after you— after everything,” he explains softly. “There wasn’t really a need, and it was easier to just stay at my old branch.”

“Oh,” Jack says.

The silence is punctuated by the drip drip drip of the coffee finishing up. Davey pulls a couple of mugs out of one of the cabinets and fixes them both a cup.

“Here you go,” Davey says, passing him a mug.

Jack goes to take a sip, the freezes midway through the motion, heart seizing in his chest as he realizes what he’s holding.

The pottery place had been his attempt at a unique, memorable first date, figuring that he might as well weigh the dice in his favor by going with something artsy. He’d been so fucking nervous the entire week leading up to it, had wanted so badly to impress the beautiful, brilliant boy that had just transferred in, because he’s been in love with Davey almost since the moment they met and it’s not looking like that’s gonna stop any time soon.

So the fact that Davey’s throwing that back in his face, taunting him with the reminder of how something so wonderful has since shattered to pieces... Jack’s whole body tenses up, fury sparking hot in his stomach.

“What the fuck, Davey?” he spits out. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Davey has the fucking gall to look startled, maybe even a little hurt.

“Why do you still have this?” Jack demands, slamming the mug down so hard that some of the contents spill out, coffee pooling on the counter. “Why would you keep—?”

“Why wouldn’t I keep it?” Davey asks, like he honestly doesn’t see what the big deal is. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”

And that is just... Jack almost wants to laugh, except he thinks he’s never heard anything less funny in his life.

“Oh, so that’s where you draw the line, huh?” Jack says, voice tight with anger. “That’s how it is? Knick knacks, keepsakes, sure, those you’ll keep around, but the stuff that’s actually worth having? That’s actually worth fighting for? You can just let all that go without ever sayin’ a fuckin’ word otherwise because who gives a shit—”

Davey’s expression twists.

“Right, because you were so fucking eager to stay?” he asks with a derisive scoff. “Give me a break, Jack, you couldn’t wait to leave. Just fucked off to the other side of the country and left me here to pick up the pieces—”

“You were all but pushing me out the fucking door!” Jack accuses, throwing his hands up. “‘It’s a wonderful opportunity, Jackie,’ ‘You’d be an idiot not to take it, Jackie,’ ‘It’s what you’ve always dreamed of, Jackie!’ What a load of horseshit—”

“Oh, so it’s my fault for being supportive?’ Davey asks, incredulous—as if Jack’s the one that’s in the wrong here. “Are you serious?”

“I’m just sayin’, you weren’t exactly bent outta shape at the thought of me leavin’,” Jack says, frigid, because if he lets himself think about it too much, if he lets himself remember the gaping hole that had formed in his chest when he’d realized that loves Davey more than Davey loved him, he thinks he might shatter completely. “Didn’t seem to bother you one fuckin’ bit. Probably relieved to finally have an excuse to get rid of me—”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Davey hisses, and he strides forward until they’re standing nearly chest to chest—the closest they’ve been in almost a year. “I’ve missed you like you wouldn’t believe, missed you every single goddamn second of the last eight months, don’t think for a moment that I didn’t, you fucking asshole.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jack bites out, not believing this for a second. “If you missed me so fucking much, then why’d we break up?”

“Because you were moving to Santa Fe!” Davey yells back. “You were leaving, Jackie! What else was I supposed to do, except let you go and try my best to be happy for you?”

Jackie. It sounds different coming out of Davey’s mouth. Something prickles at Jack’s eyes, and the threat of tears almost makes him angrier.

“If you really wanted me to be happy,” Jack growls, “you would’ve come with me.”

“You didn’t ask me to come with you!” Davey shouts.

“And you didn’t ask me to stay!”

“Ask you to stay? Ask you to stay?” Davey says, and his eyes are wild, burning and blazing as he stares Jack down. “Of course I didn’t fucking ask you to stay, I was never going to ask you to stay! It was Santa Fe, it was all you ever fucking talked about, it was your dream, Jack! It was everything that you wanted! I would never even suggest that you give that up, God, what kind of shit-ass person do you think I am, that you thought I would ever, ever try to stand between you and Santa Fe when I know how important it is to you—?”

“I’m not fucking hearing this,” Jack says, shaking his head, because he isn’t. He can’t be. Because it sounds like Davey is saying... Like he’s telling him that... “I am not fucking hearing this. I— You—“

Jack turns on his heel and storms out of Davey’s apartment, slamming the door behind him as he goes. He only gets a few steps down the hallway before his knees give out from underneath him, leaving him staggering into the nearest wall, his breaths coming in ragged pants.

Davey.

It’s like it’s seared into the space behind his eyes, woven right between his heartstrings—the look on Davey’s face, the sound of Davey’s voice, the shape and color of Davey’s eyes.

Davey. Always, always Davey

Jack loves him. It’s not like it’s a surprise, but then, Jack’s always known that.

Maybe Davey hadn’t known. Maybe Davey hadn’t known that there’s nothing on this earth that Jack loves more than him, maybe he hadn’t realized how utterly, impossibly, eternally in love with him Jack is.

Maybe Jack needs to tell him.

When he enters the apartment again he finds Davey right where he left him, and Jack can’t help but be reminded of the last time they parted, when Jack left for Santa Fe all those months ago. But this is the part he hadn’t seen back then, the part that Davey had hidden from him: he’d never been privy to the way Davey’s whole body can wilt in on itself when he’s heartbroken, had never witnessed the way Davey’s usually steady hands tremble when he’s holding back a sob.

Davey’s head jerks up as Jack steps back inside and his lips quiver when he shuts the door behind him.

His eyes are wet.

Jack steps forward, bunches his hands in the fabric of Davey shirt, and pulls him into a desperate, scorching kiss.

“I love you,” Jack says fiercely. “I love you. I loved you before I got the job offer, I loved you while I was searching for apartments and planning the move, I loved you every time I talked up Santa Fe to you, tryin’ to convince you to come with me any way I could think of. I loved you when we broke up, I loved you when I left, I loved you when I landed, and it’s been eight fucking months and I’m still so fucking in love with you—”

Davey kisses him this time, and the press of his mouth against his own, the tangle of his fingers in Jack’s hair as he tugs him closer, the taste and heat and feel of him—it’s like coming home.

“I love you too, Jackie,” Davey promises, and hearing the words finally soothes something deep down in Jack’s very being. He hadn’t thought he’d ever hear them again. “I love you and I’ve missed you so much—”

“I missed you,” Jack says, punctuating the declaration with another kiss. “You’re it for me Davey. There’s just you. And I… I can’t give this up again. Santa Fe ain’t worth nothin’ if you’re not there with me.”

“I thought that was what you wanted,” Davey murmurs, holding him tight. “I thought I had to let you go.”

Jack shakes his head.

“I wanted you to keep me,” he confesses—he’s never been brave enough to say it aloud before. “And I wanted to keep you too.”

“Then keep me,” Davey says, and it rings like a promise. “Keep me.”

00000

Tags! @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @corbinthecowboy @stroopwafeldetective @lyydiiaak

[gagmebucky]

hiiii i wrote this awhile ago but took it down because i was 👉🏼👈🏼 embarrassed about it (because i do not have the skill to pull off peter parker) and sorta still am but everyone’s been so nice to me about it i thought the best way to repay the kindness by posting it for those who did like it 😅 (originally inspired by spider man 2 with andrew garfield but loosely set in the 2018 issue of the amazing spider-man.)

in which the guys are making fun of peter and accidentally see a video of him fucking you. (includes avenger!peter x girlfriend!you, peter’s pov, voyeur!steve and voyeur!bucky, a sex tape featuring d/s dynamics, bondage, praise kink, exhibitionism, unprotected sex.) 

do not repost.

—

Despite being twenty-one years old; a proper adult who lives with his high school sweetheart, a photographer doubling as a seven-year veteran vigilante in the dangers of New York, Peter Parker is still considered as a super-powered amateur to his seasoned peers. 

Nonetheless, given his success in countless battles in the state, country, world and even galaxy-wide, he more than qualifies to hold the title of Avenger; it’s official now. A laid-back induction ceremony and his very own identity card: a sturdy rectangle, shiny with full clearance and all. Yet, as an official member, his teammates still treat him like he’s that same goofy, out-of-his-depths sixteen year old.

To be fair, yes, his style of heroism isn’t the most serious. He favors levity in the face of danger, a cheeky flare with smart quips and an infuriating grin. Even after taking a beating from the worst of foes, his demeanor never wavers because in the end, he wins. The villains are slayed and the people are saved, even comforted by the boyishly confident way he works. 

But beyond that persona, he has grown into a skilled warrior. On that note, he wants to be regarded as such—at least, to a certain extent. The jokes and teasing, poking fun at his age or the shenanigans he gets himself into, don’t bother him. No, his playful wit handles it with relative ease, and he’s a good sport about it. The only thing that he’d want to see change is some recognition that he isn’t a naïve kid anymore and is fully capable of taking charge when needed.

With his recent acceptance into the gifted pantheon, he’s intent on making that known. The jesting can continue but he wants it to be with an understanding of his capabilities. Luckily, a perfect opportunity has presented itself to showcase his abilities: a training session. 

He’s late. And yes, he knows that’s probably not a good impression to make.

In his own defense, it isn’t technically his fault. He forgot that you, his personal alarm clock (amongst other things), left early this morning because you volunteered to help his aunt move. Four years of mornings and nights, he’s gotten used to—and prefers—your languorous wake-up call.

Without your reminder, he regains consciousness fifteen minutes after the scheduled time and ends up scrambling to the compound. In a flurry, he throws on his suit—unknowingly backwards, he realizes later—trips at least three times over his own footing before he finally springs out of the balcony with webbed bursts.

When he reaches his destination, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are unimpressed; mid-simulation, it powers down. Both super-soldiers whirl around to face him, fixing raised eyebrows at his disheveled arrival.

He adjusts his now front-facing suit and shuffles forward into the space with as much confidence as an interrupter can have. “H - hey, guys,” Peter greets sheepishly and manages what he hopes is a charming smile, absentmindedly fidgeting with his phone. “Lookin’ good for a couple of geezers.” 

Unfortunately, Steve Rogers is not charmed or disillusioned from the tardiness. “You’re late, Parker.” His arms fold, and he shakes his head when punctuating his disapproval with an echoing, “Again.” 

Thankfully, to his right, more relaxed and cool, Bucky Barnes steps up. “C’mon, Stevie. Y’can’t be that surprised,” he chimes in matter of factly, contrasting against his friend with amusement sparkling in his blue eyes. “What’d you expect with Parker?” He gestures at the younger superhero. “Kid’s gonna be late to his own wedding.”

(Beside the point, but worth noting, he will not be late to meeting you at the altar. That is, of course, if you accept when he pops the question. Which is going to happen relatively soon, considering he has the ring in his nightstand drawer.)

The consult seems to relax him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right and—Peter, you—seriously, man?!” Steve sputters the last bit when he glanced over to see him blatantly check the notification that’s vibrated in his hand (on the device that is ruled to be stowed away during training). “Now the phone?!” 

Even though he shouldn’t, being on thin ice with Cap and all (pun not intended), Peter’s gaze flickers down to see your contact name appear on the screen, and he can’t resist. While Bucky guffaws a laugh at his audacity, he’s swiping up to pull up your text thread. 

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:37AM: spider boyyyyy you’ll never guess what i found in a box labeled ‘peter’s junk’ ;;;)

peter, 10:37AM: those magazines are NOT mine and i don’t know how they got there.

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: not quite but close, naughty boy

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: for a man who depends on keeping secrets and a penchant for home movies, you might ought to keep a lock on your phone unless you want someone to see me like this...

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: (video attached)

Immediately, he recognizes the pornographic thumbnail. One glance, and he’s remembering the first couple of times you guys explored the exhibitionism side of things. It was at the end of his freshman year of college and taped on a phone he thought he had lost. But he must've forgotten it at his aunt’s house, and she tossed it in the box until you came along. 

Although there’s been plenty more made, he recalls that one being a shared favorite, his especially. When long-distance duty calls, it was his go-to media. The angles, your face and body beneath the lights, the sounds it caught, you once asked if he considered switching to cinematography instead of photographer

Subconsciously, his teeth run over his bottom lip, feeling that blazing spark of desire igniting in the pit of his gut, partially at the memory and partially at what’ll happen once you guys can re-watch it together; his thumbs start typing away with that message.

“Peter!” Steve’s exasperated voice snaps, but to no avail—the real gall of the youngster, or the effect of you. His weight shifts toward his best friend, and he nudges him with his elbow. “Kids these days!” The hundred-something year old’s gaze cocks a brow back over. “Is that why you were late? Blowing off training to text your girlfriend?”

The text delivers with an audible bloop. Finally, his concentration gives, and he can look up, though his expression is clueless from the last minute. “Huh?” His brain registers what he missed, and he winces. “Sorry, Cap. My bad.”

Bucky chuckles. “Give him a break, Steve,” he faux comes to his defense, a teasing quality underlying his tone. “He’s young and in love. It’s not his fault he’s pussy-whipped.” He cracks him an antagonizing grin as Peter rolls his eyes. “He can’t go an hour without sending those little weird pictures with heart eyes, or she might not know he’s thinking about her.”

“As if you know anything about romance, old man,” he fires back and presses past them with squared shoulders, correcting him quite seriously: “And they’re called emojis, by the way. But that’s not what I was doing, if you want to know so bad.”

The brunette tilts his head thoughtfully, and small hackles arise for reasons he doesn’t understand, or pay attention to. “You know, I do want to know really badly,” Bucky decides and poses a question to his left, “Wouldn’t you, too, Steve? Aren’t you curious what his girlfriend sent that was so much more important than training?”

The blond mimics his actions and clicks his tongue. “Yeah, I am.” 

Peter’s eyebrows pinch while his skin tingles and the hair on the back of his neck stands straight up. “What—” Before his senses process it, one of the super-soldiers plucks his phone out of his hands and darts back beside his best friend. His jaw drops as he tries to follow after him. “Bucky, you asshole—”

“Some spidey senses, huh?” The Winter Soldier lifts it high over his head, utilizing his six-foot stature against his five-ten like elementary school bullies do and older siblings to their juniors. “Haven’t ‘cha heard about sharing with the class?” He laughs and practically stiff-arms him to squint up at the screen. “Aw, he can’t wait to see her. What’s it been, more than two hours since you two saw each other last?” 

Conceding to the height difference, Peter stops his physical efforts and diverts it to someone reasonable. “Cap, you gonna help me out here?” he addresses the entertained onlooker in the most friendly voice he can manage. 

“The kid’s got separate anxiety not just from his girlfriend but phone too, Buck,” Steve drawls with a lopsided curve of his lips. He side-steps Peter to stand next to Bucky, and for a second, he thinks he’s on his side despite the tease, but he simply adds a stern, “So be careful. You don’t want to break it, or Parker will have a fit.”

Peter crosses his arms and scowls. “Ha, ha,” he retorts dryly, only somewhat amused by their banter. He tilts his head up at them, and the duo look thoroughly pleased with themselves. “You know, you guys are kind of dicks.”

“No, we’re your mentors, kid,” Steve corrects with a wink and rests his arm on his friend’s shoulder. “This is a lesson. No phones—” He jabs his thumb back in reference to the device’s unlocked screen: “—when you’re supposed to be training.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky chimes in upon glancing up from his phone. “And a little advice, women don’t like clinginess. Try being a little more stern and see how that works for you. If you’re able to manage that. But I won’t hold it against ya if you can’t.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter patronizes with a bob of his head, biting back a response pointing out the hundred-something year old’s inexperience. Instead, he focuses on the electronic readily loaded up with some private content. With that, he decides to do the rational and mature thing and ask nicely. “Noted. So, uh, can I have my phone back now?” 

To his shock, Bucky merely flashes a smirk and his thumb scrolls half-heartedly over the thread. Thereafter, he leans toward Steve and raises his cell for him to see. “Oh, look, it’s a video,” he teases. “What could Y/N send that would take priority of training?” 

There’s an unspoken let’s see then a metal finger taps the play button. Before Peter can think, much less react, Captain American and the Winter Soldier are watching how he effortlessly renders his pretty little girlfriend into a cute nonsensical yet eager mess— 

In his point-of-view shot, the ratio holds in portrait view in a bid to capture every bit of you. Above you, the camera focuses on you and your beautifully debauched state beneath warm lighting where it’s unalienable that the camera was made for you. 

Your eyes are dilated brightly, desperate with desire as your lashes flutter up at him. A sheen coats your features and glistens like glitter at the highest points of your face while the shape of your face is framed by your stretched arms. 

Your wrists are bound over your head, splotched with expertly sprayed strong, white webs. The mesh sticks them together in a criss-cross, comfortable but nearly impossible to break out of, fixed in place atop his headboard. The tautness tugs a mild strain on your figure so your breasts are jutting out like an offering, and it’s obvious he’s taken advantage of it. Darkened marks adorn your glowing complexion, peppered across your décolletage with imprints of his teeth; including your nipples, sucked swollen and tender. 

The angle trails down until it reveals the sight of him mercilessly pounding inside of you. His better-than-average girth is sliding in and out of your tight channel; slicked in shared translucent essence, creaming around the base, your inner walls visibly clinging to his cock with every backward stroke. His hand splays on your mound, using his thumb to abuse your engorged clit. He easily keeps the sensitive nub pinned under his control despite your wildly twisting hips. 

Like the display, the soundtrack is equally obscene. Loud, your stuffed depths gush and squelch as skin slaps rhythmically. Your breathy, wanton moans overshadow both, drawn out whimpers, almost nonsensical other than the syllable of his name. A melody of neediness, you sound so fucking pretty, (depraved, like a whore, you once told him during your little film marathon with a sly smile), and for him specifically.

The frame pans upward and confirms you look just as good. A perfect mess, unhinged by the skilled ministrations of your boyfriend. Passion beads on your forehead like reflections off of a diamond. Panting, your lips are plumped from kissing parted with mewls of pleasure. 

“P - please—I need to—can I - I please—” You’re begging like the sweet little thing you are, incoherent babbling the result of his excessive edging. Of course, you know better than to give into the sensations ravaging you; instead you ignore your visceral desire and ask him for your release. “Peter, please!” 

A deep chuckle vibrates behind the camera as his big hand slides into view, trailing over your jiggling tits to the slope of your throat. “Maybe,” he says breathily and grasps the line of your jaw between his fingers. “Open your mouth first, babe.” 

No more preamble necessary, you follow his direction, your pink tongue flat over your Cupid’s bow. Immediately, a long string of his saliva drips into view and onto your taste buds; the vulgar act is accepted with a swallow and a quivering moan of, “T - thank you.” 

“Good girl,” he praises huskily, and the voiced approval has you visibly shivering. “Alright, then, pretty girl. Make it good for me, and c’mon—”

Before your otherworldly reckoning washes over you and his teammates can watch your bliss immortalized in film, Peter snatches his property back. 

Not much force is necessary as Bucky’s grip has been stunned loose. A dark expression permeates on young hero’s face but not because of embarrassment; if he was still nineteen or eighteen, he would’ve been mortified that his titular superiors caught a depraved glimpse of his sex life, on both his and your behalf. Rather than, there’s just a flit of annoyance when he folds his arms.

“Shit,” Bucky is the first to speak, exhaling the swear raggedly. His blue pupils have widened in obvious attraction, dilated dark, blinking rapidly as if it’ll help calm him down from the clip of you, his innocent seeming girlfriend, all ruined and begging. “Parker, fuck, I - I didn’t know you got down like that.” 

There’s a swell in his chest, pride beating steadily while he remains reticent-faced. He prefers you keep your bedroom activities secluded there. Yeah, he likes to be in control and you like to be controlled but it’s only in a sexual nature. Yet, their reactions—stunned, embarrassed and viscerally affected—surges smug satisfaction he’s never known before through his veins. 

Even the prestigious Captain America is bothered, though he may try to hide it. He clears his throat, a flustered pink coloring his cheeks. “Peter, uh,” he says, barely maintaining the confidence to look him in the eye after witnessing his girlfriend like that. “We - we shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that.” 

“Uh-huh,” is Peter’s response, a hint of a smirk curling on one side of his lips. “Why don’t you guys call me after you’re finished with your cold showers, and we can actually train. Until then, I’m gonna go to my girl who’s more than eager to handle mine.” He pauses. “Maybe if you guys ask nice enough, I might let her show you how well I’ve trained her.”

[ilovelife]

Biden's Folly

Given the current situation and chaos in Afghanistan it would have been far cheaper & easier for Biden to have just left those 2500 US troops in Afghanistan and not withdrawn them as in May, when there was peace calm and stability compared to the current Mess he's created and the far higher expense he's going to incur. 2 months ago just 2500 US troops were keeping the ? new war that will definitely come. How did he do a deal with terrorists and expect them to keep their word? What a prize chump.

How is Biden, i.e. the US Govt. doing deals and negotiating with terrorists, i.e. the Taliban, and installing them on the throne, i.e. the seat of Power? I thought that the US does not deal with terrorists? What hypocrisy. That means that Biden & the US Govt. are also terrorists as they are co collaborators and conspirators with the Taliban. How can they trust terrorists who hate the US that has slaughtered so many of them? The primary target of the Taliban and all their kind is most definitely Biden in the White House, who will soon be@War.

How with 1 stroke of his pen, Biden has ruined an entire nation, people and civilisation and plunged the entire world into chaos, commotion, terror, war and depression. He has brought terrorists to positions of power, who will kill him & others, and yet says, "We dont care, it is not America's problem". You fool, America has created the problem. I had a really high opinion of Biden before. But now unfo. that has changed. I can now see that he is actually an Asshole and truly behaving like one.

The Taliban is already dictating terms to the US Govt & Biden and asking them to fuck off. They have said the deadline wont be extended. And Biden is obeying them like a puppy dog! How can Biden expect them to keep their end of the deal when they are untrustworthy? By collaborating with them the US Govt. is also a terrorist. Biden has no stomach for War and will not be able to lead the US in the event of one. But war is most definitely going to be thrust on him as certainly as there is night & day. Instead of going in and getting the Taliban he is just admitting US defeat & showing his cowardice. His leadership abilities are already in question. He has bungled so badly on Afghanistan. The Taliban are definitely going to attack him or hire people to attack him. He has placed terrorists on the throne of Afghanistan. He should resign and admit himself in an old age home or lead America properly and with strength. At the moment he is being a Wimp and a Wuss. And is the most misinformed person on Afghanistan.

The US should bring in heavy lift passenger aircraft now to complete the evac. on time like- Jumbo 747s, A380 Double Decks if they are still around, Antonov multi deck heavy lift passenger aircraft. The C117s should have multiple decks fitted on them to squeeze in at least a 1000 on each ride.

Biden must resign. He is totally insane and senile. His decision making abilities are in Question as he has ruined an entire nation and plunged the whole world into chaos and commotion. Either he should take the path of Peace or War, but whichever path he takes he should win at it. At the moment the US stands exposed as and is a complete loser. Like Biden. They dont expect the Taliban to keep their word, do they? The slaughters will start as soon as the US troops leave. Appalling.

Biden/NATO have to go back in to Afg to get not just the Tallys but also the others. But of course he wont. He will do just the opposite. He like Jimmy Carter doesn't have the guts. Why are these Democrats so soft?

In all fairness Biden is a good man but only for Peacetime, he has absolutely no training, acumen or leadership ability or stomach apparently for War, as we can see. He is also too old and his age is against him for waging a war. His best option is to confer with other past successful war POTUS esp. Obama, Clinton & George W. Bush and the Pentagon, NATO and the UN to come up with a successful plan to solve and handle Afghanistan permanently. The Taliban is NO solution. On the contrary they are a Disgraceful, unelected, undemocratic solution. And by behaving in the appalling, disgusting way he is, he is only wiping his hands off Afghanistan and trying to run away from it, which as you can see is not helping at all as there is no escape and is only causing him to get further embroiled in it, that will ultimately lead to his resignation and demise. Can't run away from the Afghan problem, the only solution is to solve it properly, peacefully and successfully. Or the Afghans will come looking for him. No one man should have so much absolute power to bungle. That is why the US Presidential system is failing so much. It should be channelled into committees for consensual power.

Drone strikes are all very good though we cant verify the veracity of the kill. But Biden hasn't solved the long term problem of Afghanistan, which the US owes Afg after 20+ years of occupation. Taliban rule is not the solution but a massive problem for the whole world. It is in fact disgusting the way the US has and is behaving. The West owes Afg a long term solution to their permanent woes or it will continue to bother them. Biden has caused the entire present crisis and the collapse of an entire nation thru premature troop withdrawal that was unnecessary and whose presence cost the US exchequer nothing, by behaving like a total pig headed prick. And he has to pay the price. On the contrary the monetary benefits of having its small no. of troops in Afg gave the US monetary benefits more to the tune of billions & trillions of $$ compared to the current crisis. Biden has only contributed to the Afghan crisis by adding 13 more graves to the long list at Arlington. Thus behaving like a total Asshole. He is one.

It is very sad to see what's happening in Afghanistan. After all we're all human.

Biden has just betrayed and screwed not just his own country but also Afghanistan and the whole World. He's a total nincompoop, asshole and wimp. He's doing deals with and trusts terrorists. Must be a terrorist himself then. He should be tried and impeached. Just 2,500 US troops doing nothing in Afg can hardly be called a War or America's longest War. He is either hopelessly misinformed or senile or demented or totally nuts. They were only keeping the peace, preventing terrorism & watching terrorists. The Tallys are not a Govt., or freedom fighters as they claim to be, they are unelected. They are just terrorists and thugs who've taken the country by force and should not be recognised by anyone. The fact that the US has handed the country over to terrorists taking the clock back 20 years due to the Nutcase Biden, goes to show exactly how irresponsible the US actually is. Firstly, he should not have withdrawn troops, but now that he has, this is not the way to have done it, by creating a more dangerous world and by making the whole world a more dangerous place to live in- by aiding and abetting terrorists. You cant expect them to adhere to any agreement. What a nut.

[whumpingcrow]

Pt.14 "Honeymoon"

CW: injury mention/description, unconscious whumpee, bondage, panic attack mention, memory loss, teeth pulling mention (brief, vague), drugs/alcohol, creepy/intimate whumper, death mention, gun mention (brief), abduction, car setting, airport setting, security guards, plane setting, plane crash discussion, tics/tourettes (pretty explicit), August needs his own warning (let me know if i missed anything!)

Elias felt heavy when he woke up, like his head was full of sand. He couldn't open his eyes for a moment, just heard distant, almost panicked voices. After a few seconds, he was hit with an onslaught of pain so bad that his ears were ringing and he could feel his throat closing up. After he adjusted to it (it never faded when it was this bad, he just was able to feel around it, live with it), he realized his hands were tied behind him and he was propped up on a chair. A groan slipped past his lips as he lifted his head up, trying with every last bit of energy to open his eyes.

"Ah, there he is," he heard someone say, "good morning, sweetheart."

"Don't fucking touch him!" That was Tyson, Elias recognized his horrified voice instantly. Why was he so upset? Who else was here? Why the hell couldn't he open his eyes?

"Come on, bunny, wake up." Now when the voice spoke it was accompanied by a hand on his cheek, and he whined at the soreness that lit up there when it was touched. He couldn't remember anything happening, He remembered, through the hazy memory of a panic attack, Tyson telling him that Allen and Leo were there, and then he left the room. Elias waited in the bedroom, standing numbly in front of the closet on shaking legs, trying to gather his thoughts as he pulled on a shirt. But then what?

He finally forced his eyes open, squinting up at the blurry figure in front of him. It took him a few seconds to focus, but when he did his entire chest lit up in a dull panic and he tried to snap his head away from his gentle fingertips against his skin. August only laughed. "Careful, don't hurt yourself."

Elias looked past August, and Tyson was tied up in one of the other kitchen chairs, looking just as beat up as Elias felt. "Oh god," he whimpered, dropping his head down in despair, "oh god!"

"Don't be so dramatic. Didn't you miss me?" August knelt in front of him, taking his face in his hands and smiling. "God, I haven't been able to get you off my mind."

"Please," Elias sobbed, "please stop, August. Please."

At those words, Augusts face softened, and he looked human, almost sad. Elias always felt uneasy when he did that, it was so hard to tell if the sudden affection and compassion was real or if he just wanted Elias to think he liked him. And Elias was stupid, because every time it made him confused and doubtful because how the hell could the person who had gotten so high once he tried to pull out Elias's teeth suddenly have emotions? Where did he hide them away, when he was torturing Elias like it was his purpose? August ran his thumb across Elias's face, wiping his tears away. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry. That last day I...I never meant to go that far. I didn't mean to hurt you so bad. And I am so unbelievably sorry. I hope you can forgive me."

"You killed me!" He shot back. As soon as the sentence echoed back to him and he realized how he'd yelled, he snapped his mouth shut and braced himself as much as he could. He was surprised when August didn't hit him or get angry, only nodded sadly.

"I know. I'm so sorry, angel-"

"Get away from him you fucking asshole!" Tyson shouted again. August took a deep, aggravated breath before he stood straight, slowly making his way across the kitchen to Tyson. Tyson sat straighter as he approached, as straight and tall as he could with the ropes securing him to the chair. He tried to look brave, but he had seen the videos and the pictures, he had seen the aftermath of August's violence on both Elias and Allen, he knew the damage this monster could cause.

Elias watched on in horror as August swung, nearly knocking the chair over with how hard he hit Tyson.

"August!" He shrieked, pulling hard at the ropes around his wrists. "August stop hurting him!"

August tipped his head back, groaning in exasperation. Elias looked at Tyson, who was caved in on himself, trying to steady is ragged breathing. Elias couldn't help but think that it was all his fault, that if he had just stayed dead Tyson would not be hurting and in danger right now.

"Eli," August said, turning back to him. Elias flinched, looking up at him with wide, tearful eyes. "I can't stand being away from you, angel. It's tearing me apart."

"I don't...August, I c-cant..." He dropped his head down as a sob tore through him, squeezing his eyes shut. He gasped when August grabbed his shoulders hard, leaned away from him as much as he could. "P-please, August. Please stop this."

"I have to leave here, I'm going out of country until things settle down." He grabbed Elias's face, forcing him to look up at him. Elias finally opened his eyes as August smiled that warm, almost welcoming smile that always dropped Elias into a confused spiral. "I want you to come with me. I can make you so happy, Eli. We can be together all the time and be so happy. Remember how great it is to be together? Remember-"

"Don't listen to him Elias," Tyson pleaded, "he's lying to you, don't listen to him."

Elias sobbed when August started to pull away from him, knowing he was going to hurt Tyson again. "August, d-dont! Please don't!"

"Elias you need me!" August insisted. His voice had an edge of desperation, like he really was torn up about being away from Elias. "I know that you need me, you're doing horribly without me. I can see that and I know you can see that. Come with me."

"I can't. You...you're gonna hurt me and I can't...I can't deal with anymore pain."

August shook his head to himself, a look on his face that said 'you give me no other choice', then slowly pulled a handgun out of his waist band. "Suit yourself, then." He huffed, lifting the gun toward Tyson.

"No! No August stop wait!" Elias screamed, fighting hard against the rope, absolute panic coating every word he cried. "I'll go with you! Don't hurt him, please!"

August froze, then slowly lowered the gun. Elias felt a helpless sob tear through him and August sighed. "I knew you'd come to your senses," he tucked the gun away and stepped towards him to undo the rope around his wrists, "that's my good boy."

Elias stood on trembling legs when he was able to, clutching at August's shirt so he wouldn't fall. August looped his arm around him to help him stand, or just to touch him, it really could be either. The disgusting familiarity of the way August touched him made him want to cry.

"Don't do this, Elias!" Tyson cried, thrashing in the chair to try and free himself. He was losing Elias again, he was helpless and Elias was going to be hurt again and he couldn't do anything. It was agonizing to watch him limp toward the front door all wrapped up in August, leaning heavily against him. "Don't you fucking leave me!"

"I'm s-so sorry Tyson," he gasped, "I'm so fucking s-sorry."

Before either of them could say anything else, August pulled him out of the apartment and into a van. The second they were sitting down, Elias collapsed in on himself and began sobbing harder, his lungs heaving. August pulled him into his chest, holding him close.

"It's ok, bunny," he soothed him, "just breathe. You're alright."

It took him a long time to calm himself down, especially because every time he heard August's voice it sent him panicking again, but after awhile he pushed himself away from August and wrapped his arms around himself, looking out the window at the passing traffic.

"What happened to your face?" August asked, trailing his knuckles over his cheek gently. Elias tensed up, closing his eyes.

"It doesn't matter." He muttered. He wondered why August was asking that, didn't he send that man to the party himself, to hurt Elias? He probably just wanted to hear him admit to it, to describe what happened in detail. Elias bet that August would probably like that, the sick fuck, and so he didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"Don't be like that, sweetheart. Tell me what happened."

With a huff, Elias retold the story, told him he knew that August had sent him, that it was painful, that he bled, all the grimy little things he knew August wanted to hear. By the end of it, he was shocked to see August looking rather displeased. He was silent, and it made Elias's skin crawl just as it always did, but then he sighed and forced a small smile onto his face.

"I'm glad you're here with me," he said, as if Elias had never said anything at all, "everything feels...right again." He glanced down at Elias, smiling wider at him. "Did you miss me?" He asked.

Elias looked up at him, a frown on his face. August didn't look any different than before, he was still handsome and clean shaven and unforgiving. His dark hair was slicked back out of his face, his dark blue eyes eerily flat, the smile he put on didn't quite reach them. In a way, Elias was glad he was seeing his face, that he didn't have to linger on the last memory of being choked to death anymore. "Yeah," he rasped out, "yeah, I did."

August smiled widely at him, it looked so genuine for a second that Elias felt a tiny inkling of relief. He was still rigid when August kissed him, but he leaned toward him obediently. It felt so familiar, his strong hand holding his face steady and his tongue slipping through his lips. "God, Eli, you have no idea how badly I missed you. It absolutely ruined me, what I did to you."

"I wanted you to," Elias admitted, "I was pissing you off on purpose so you'd kill me."

August chuckled, shaking his head. "Still, I shouldn't have taken it that far. I'm so happy you're still here."

Elias was surprised when they got to an airport, August definitely had balls, he had to give him that. He didn't know how he kept getting away with any of it, with getting out of jail and making it to other places with no issue. Even as they walked through security, he seemed relaxed and unbothered. Elias was more nervous than him, and he wasn't even the one in trouble. Even the security must've noticed his anxiety, because at one point one of them squared up to him, looking him up and down.

"How are you doing this morning?" One of them asked. She was short and stout, her voice firm yet sweet. Elias glanced over at August, who was seemingly making jokes with another security guard a few feet ahead of him.

"I've never been on a plane before," Elias mumbled, "I'm a little nervous."

She smiled warmly at him, watching in curiosity as he kept checking to see what August was doing, where he was. "Well you look like you're nervous about more than flying," she observed, "if you have anything to share with me I could take you to customs. It's more private."

Elias tensed, thinking for a moment about the offer. This could all be over if he just told her what was happening, she could call someone and August would go back to jail. But even then he wasn't sure it would end there, August had proven time and time again that jail wasn't going to stop him, and he didn't want Tyson to really get hurt. It was easier this way, to just go quietly and let August do what he wanted to him, at least then he would take all the pain instead of the people he cared about.

"No, I'm fine, thank you." He smiled weakly at her, then turned to see August watching them carefully. He thanked her again, then walked over to meet him.

"I hope you're not getting cold feet," he joked, "don't want things to get messy, do we?"

Elias shook his head quickly and leaned against him. "No, I want this."

August smiled at him, reaching out to pet his hair. "Thats good, bunny."

Once they were on the plane, Elias was even more nervous. His whole life he had been too broke to go anywhere, and he honestly didn't think he'd ever get the chance to go on a plane. And now that he was, he was with the worst possible person.

"What's wrong baby?" August whispered. He reached out and placed a hand over his leg. Elias looked at him, face twisted into a frown, and shrugged.

"Ive never been on a plane. I'm nervous." He frowned more when August chuckled softly and grabbed his hand.

"You'll be ok. I've got you." He sighed when Elias leaned his head against his shoulder, running his thumb over his hand. "You have no idea how terribly I missed you Eli. I missed holding you, I missed having you in my arms." Now he was whispering, his lips in Elias's hair as he spoke.

"You know, you did a really good job at making me repulsive. Tyson couldn't even look at me shirtless."

"You're not repulsive, little one. Not at all." He kissed his forehead gently as he spoke, brushing his hair back. "You are a work of art. Some people just don't know how to appreciate that."

Elias shook his head. "You're the only one that thinks that."

"I'm the only one that needs to think that." Now he grabbed at his hair, forcing him to tip his head back and look up at him. Elias usually would mind the aggressive contact that much, but with the engines blaring around him and already tight knot of anxiety in his chest, it only made his heart sink in his chest.

"August, please," he whimpered, before August could open his mouth to say anything, "please I'm so nervous already please don't grab me that way." He was surprised as August instantly loosened his grip, grabbing his face gently instead.

"So pretty when you beg like that," he hummed, "I missed hearing my name come out of your mouth."

Elias ignored the comment, instead dropping his head against his chest and closing his eyes.

He tried to sleep for the most part, but everytime he drifted off he was reminded of where he was and who he was with, and he woke up again with a new bout of anxiety. At one point he sat up and August was sleeping, and for a few moments he debated flagging down a flight attendant to help him. It wasn't worth it. Nothing was, at this point. Instead, he turned toward the window, peering down at the blue ocean under them. They were so high up, and so far away from anything. From Tyson.

At that, he started crying softly, covering his face to try and quiet his sniffles. It was so god damn hopeless now, he was going god knows where with the closest thing to evil he'd ever experienced, nothing mattered anymore, life might as well be over.

"What's wrong, angel?" August said, grabbing his shoulders gently. Elias let one muted, broken sob out, then curled into himself to try and stop any more. "Elias, what is it?"

"I'm so s-scared," he whimpered, "I'm terrified."

"We're ok, baby. We'll be there soon, we're perfectly safe." As he spoke, he stroked Elias carefully, trying to calm him down. When Elias shook his head, he realized what he meant: Elias was afraid of him. Not of being in the air, not of the plane crashing, but of being stuck with August. He sighed and pulled him closer, until his forehead was pressed against his shoulder. "I'm gonna be more careful with you, bunny. I know I was really rough with you before, I know better now. You've got nothing to be afraid of. I taught you so well, you can handle a little pain, I know you can."

Elias was silent, and August was suddenly furious with him. He'd spent all this money, not his own of course, and time and effort just to get him and take him some place nice, and now he wasn't speaking to him? And here August was, trying to comfort him. As if he was worth the wadted energy. His hands grew tighter, and just as quickly as he began to console him, his voice became a threatening whisper. "Where do you get off on being afraid, anyways? You said it yourself, I'm the only one who wants you. You don't get to be scared, I'm going to do what I want to you and you're going to shut the fuck up about it. Understand?"

Elias bit back another sob and nodded quickly, waiting for August to let go of him. When he didn't, he just closed his eyes tighter and tried to calm himself. He counted to ten, but he still felt like screaming, so he counted to twenty. Then thirty. Once he was up in the 50s, he began to tic. He jerked against August, whining softly as he did. This was the worst possible time and place for an attack, everyone would look at him, August would be annoyed and ashamed, he had no where to go and hide while he waited it out. He was trapped, and that only made everything worse.

"Son of a fuck!" He gasped, trying, and failing, thanks to his hands that just never wanted to be still enough to be useful, to cover his mouth to quiet himself. Tears were still spilling down his cheeks, his whole body was shaking with the effort of holding back more profanities or punching the chair in front of him as hard as he could, like he knew he would if he wasn't biting it back with everything he had. People had already begun to swivel around and stare at him. He wished he could disappear.

"Eli, calm down," August warned him quietly, "don't shout like that."

"I'm so- bitch!- I'm sorry." He was crying harder now, embarrassed and scared beyond belief. He wanted to break the window and fall to his death, just to be away from all the stares. He ticced again, ramming the heel of his hand against his skull hard, and whined at the pain. "God damn it!"

August must've realized what was happening then, because he wrapped his arms tight around Elias to hold him still, rocking him a bit. Most of the time, August didn't seem to give a shit when Elias was like this. Sure, when his friends came over and they all laughed and amused themselves with it, August would join in. Sometimes he would try to make it worse, try to make Elias as embarrassed and flustered and anxious as he could just so they could all laugh at him when he couldn't help the awful things he was shouting or the strange sounds that he didn't know he could even make or the ridiculous movements of his body that looked idiotic, August told him a few times. Other than those times, he didn't seem to notice or care about them. Only a few times, when it was painfully obvious that Elias was hurting because of it, had August ever comforted him through it. And thank God today was one of those times, Elias thought, as he qstarted saying, "You're ok, Eli. It's all ok."

Elias sobbed, grabbing at August's arm desperately, trying to gain a little stability. He ticced for a few more long, painful minutes, and then grew exhausted against August and his tics turned from violent outbursts to small twitches in his hands and neck. August loosened his grip gradually, then pulled away completely to look at him. He wiped his tears away gently as he inspected him.

"You alright?"

He only nodded in response, then pulled his knees up to his chest to hide his face. People were whispering around them, he knew they were talking about him. He wished they could just get to wherever the hell they were going, get this shit show over and done with in one way or another. Elias couldn't help but wonder if it would end the same as last time, with hands around his throat and edges of his vision dark and such a distant pain Elias wasn't even sure if it was considered his own. He wondered if August was telling the truth and really was going to be more careful and try not to hurt him. He wondered what Tyson was doing right then; he was hoping that he was getting him help and dreading that Tyson was maybe celebrating the fact that Elias was gone again. It took everything he had and more to convince himself that Tyson wouldn't do that, that Tyson loved him (for whatever reason) and wouldn't stop until he was home safe (again, Elias still really couldn't figure out why). After he was able to cling onto that tiny sliver of hope, that Tyson would at least try, he was proud of himself. He kept repeating it to himself in his head : "Tyson will try to find me, Tyson will try to find me" as they flew hundreds of miles further from home by the minute.

The plane began to descend.