#this news is half a year old stop reblogging christ

[marvel1012]

Sins of the Father - Pt.2 "Donna"

Synopsis: AU 3rd season episode of The Bear. Carm makes a startling discovery, and must navigate the fallout.

Warnings: cursing, drinking, smoking, Donna

Word count: 2,600-ish

Author's note: Please read Part 1 first! Likes, reblogs, and constructive feedback welcome!

Part 3

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Early the next morning, Carm took the train across town and then walked the few blocks over to their old neighborhood. Standing on the sidewalk outside their mom’s house, staring at the stoop, it was hard not to see that December night from almost six years ago– his mom’s car still half-buried in the front room, getting slowly pulled out by a wrecker, Donna hysterical on the lawn, Mikey trying to calm her down, Lee and Jimmy screaming at each other, the neighbors filtering out from their houses to watch. He blinked hard and the scene was gone– the house looked good as new, like none of it had ever happened. 

He steeled himself with a deep breath, thought about lighting up one more time before going in, just to slow his brain down for a minute, then thought better of it. He needed to get this over with, so he could get back to The Bear and make sure the week’s inventory got done on time. 

Let it rip.

He marched up the front steps and tried the door. Not surprisingly, it was unlocked. Typical. He opened it slowly, sticking his head inside and looking around. “Mom?” 

“Carmen? Is that you?” Donna’s voice sounded like it was coming from the back of the house, a bedroom, probably. 

Stepping inside, Carm shrugged off his coat and hung it on one of the hooks next to the door. He didn’t bother removing his shoes, though– he didn’t think he’d be staying that long. Knowing Donna, this conversation was gonna go over like a ton of lead bricks. As he walked down the photo frame lined hallway, he couldn’t help but glance at a few of the old family group shots. How could he have ever looked at himself next to Mikey and Natalie and believed they came from the same family? Nat may not have been the spitting image of her father, but she sure as hell looked more like him than Carmen ever had. As the photos got older and his siblings got younger, the resemblance to Jerry got even more noticeable. 

He stopped briefly in front of a group picture from when he was still a baby, probably not even walking yet. It must have been Easter or something, because the entire family was dressed up in all their early 90’s glory. Michael was probably around thirteen, Nat was just a toddler in a frilly white dress, Donna was holding her hand and probably coaching her to look into the camera and smile. Carm was being held by Jerry, and staring wide-eyed at something slightly to the right of whoever was taking the photo. His brilliant, bright blue eyes and curly, sandy hair stood out like a sore thumb when you saw them all together. He heard Sam’s sneering voice in his head, “Who did that crazy bitch think she was foolin?” 

“Carmy?” 

When he made it to the bedroom, the first thing he noticed was all the mess. There were open paint cans, drop cloths, brushes, rollers, half-filled trays of paint, and Donna, perched on a step ladder with a metal pole draped across her lap. She had obviously just stopped sanding, because she was covered in a fine layer of dust. As always, she was sipping a glass of her favorite red wine. 

At 9:30 on a Tuesday morning. Christ. 

“Uh, hey Mom. You ah, repainting the bedroom?” 

Donna grinned. “Sure am. I read in one of those house magazines that nobody does the textured look for paint anymore, it’s all gotta be a single color now. First you gotta sand it, then you gotta paint over it. Next week I’m taking down the wallpaper in the bedrooms upstairs! Repainting those too!” She giggled and took another swig. This was most definitely not her first glass of the day. 

“Oh, okay. Ya know, most people hire a bunch of guys for big paint jobs. We could find someone to handle the wallpaper, too. The Bear’s finally doin’ alright and–” 

“No,” Donna snapped, cutting him off. 

Shit, I haven’t even been here five minutes and she’s already mad at me. 

“But, it’s really no trouble. I can even pay for it, that’s what I was tryin’ to say.” 

“I don’t want a bunch of strangers coming into my house, breakin’ things, makin’ a mess, getting paint and God knows what else on my furniture,” she finished off the wine and nearly dropped the glass while sitting it down, apparently oblivious to the mess she had already created. “I know what this is, you think I can’t do it on my own. You think I’m too old, and and frail, and and, old.” 

“No, no, that’s not it Mom, I just wanted to help, is all. I was just trying to be nice, and help you.” 

“Well I don’t need it. I don’t need you doing things for me. I’m capable of doing things for myself. And I can pay for things, too. I don’t need your money.” She was clearly ratcheting up, and then, in half a second, her mood turned on a dime, and where once there was righteous anger, embarrassment had taken its place. Carmen could see the shift when it happened, having spent years trying to gauge and wrangle Donna’s moods. 

“Aww, Carmy, I’m sorry for getting mad,” she pouted, “You were trying to do something sweet for me, and I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m really glad that your restaurant is doing good, I really am.” 

“Thanks Mom,” an awkward pause while he thought of something else to say, to move the conversation away from whatever it was about the painting that had set her off, “Hey, ah, Nat told me she and Pete brought the baby over to visit last weekend, how’d that go?” 

Donna beamed, “It was great, just great. She’s a cute little thing, but looks a little bit too much like Pete, which is going to be unfortunate for a little girl,” she picked up her empty wine glass and gestured toward the hallway, “I need a refill, let’s talk in the kitchen.” 

Carmen followed along behind as she retrieved the open wine bottle from the fridge. Before filling her own glass, she held up the bottle, offering. “Oh, no, I can’t right now. Gotta get back to work in just a little while. Thanks, though.” Donna shrugged with a “suit yourself” smirk and dumped the rest of the bottle into her glass, filling it almost to the rim. She was chatting  excitedly between sips about her “very first grandchild”, how good Nat seemed to be doing as a first time mom, how she couldn’t wait to babysit (if Carm had been drinking, he might have spit his wine out at that idea). 

Since they appeared to have moved back to solid ground, he figured it was now or never. He waited for Donna to take a breath, then cut in. “Hey, so, what I came over to talk to you about. Last night, this guy came by The Bear after we closed. He said his name was Sam Morris.” 

Her head snapped back as if she’d been struck. “What did you just say?” 

“Well, uh, there was this guy, named Sam Morris. He came by the restaurant last night to talk to me. Actually had the nerve to ask me for a job, talked to me like I should know who he is. Should I know who he is, Mom?” 

“I- I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Donna quickly crossed the kitchen to toss the empty bottle into the trash can. “I’ve never heard that name in my life.” She went to the sink and began to furiously scrub her hands under the running tap, as if she had just conveniently noticed that they were covered in dust. “Why would you even ask me about some strange man looking for a job?” 

“Mom, you know why. Sam Morris said that he’s my dad. He said he was my real father, and that I should ask you about him.” 

“Jesus Christ, Carmen, are you gonna to listen to every lunatic walkin’ the streets of fucking Chicago?” Her voice may have been steady, but Carm noticed that her hands were shaking as she grabbed a nearby dish towel and dried them off. 

“Mom,” he softened his tone, trying to appeal to reason, “Richie already told me what he knew about what happened. So we can be honest about this.” 

Donna made a big show of rolling her eyes. “Uh huh, okay, Richard Jerimovich, that paragon of honesty and virtue. That’s who we’re getting our ‘facts’ from these days? Right.” She grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the counter and lit one. 

Why couldn’t anything ever be easy with this family? 

“Richie would never lie to me about something like that, and you know it. Now I’m going to ask again, politely, will you please tell me what happened with Sam Morris?” 

“Oh, I don’t want to talk about that, Carmy. Let’s just go back to having a nice morning together, okay? Let’s forget about Sam Morris. He’s nothing, he’s nobody.” 

Carmen could feel a hot flush spreading from his neck up to his cheeks as his temper started to flare. “No, Mom. I have a right to know where I came from. I’m an adult, and I want you to tell me the truth. Tell me what happened.” 

Donna’s eyes narrowed over her cigarette as she took a long drag and exhaled slowly. Finally, she started to nod, “Okay, alright. Sure, you wanna know? I’ll tell you.” 

“Good, yes. Thank you.”

“You don’t remember anything about your fath— Jerry, because you were so young. But he was a real piece of work. Your Uncle Jimmy got him mixed up in something, and Lee was in on it too. He was gone all the time. All the time. He should have been here, helping me raise his children, but whatever he had going was obviously more important than me and Mikey and Natalie. He’d come home drunk, 4:00, 5:00 in the morning. I was here, all the time, doing everything by myself as usual, and he’d just stumble in after doing God knows what all night with those crimi-”

“Are you just gonna shit on Dad for the rest of the day, or are you getting to the point?” 

She took a deep sip of wine, then pointed at him with the two fingers clamped around her cigarette. “You shut your trap. I’m gettin’ there.” 

Carm shrugged. Coulda fooled me. 

“One night, your father was out with Jimmy and Lee, of course. Mikey and Richie were spending the night with their friend down the street, and I was so lonely here by myself with Sugar. Sam stopped by to return some tools he had borrowed from your dad at work that day. We had a drink together. Then another drink. And another drink. Honestly, probably another drink–” 

“Mom, I get it. You were drinking together.” 

“Well, after a lot of drinks, one thing led to another and,” she threw up her hands, “I made a mistake, Carmy. I made a mistake. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

Carmen felt stung by that. “Thanks for reminding me about what a huge fucking mistake I am, Mom.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant. You’re not a mistake, being with Sam was a mistake. But I was lonely, and your fath– Jerry– was never around. He was always scheming, always starting this and that but never following through, always boozing, probably had something going on the side himself all those years–” 

“Jesus Christ, are you really gonna to sit there and blame Dad for all of this? You were there, too. You made your own choices. Dad didn’t make you fuck that guy.” Carm was breathing hard now, practically seething with rage. He thought hearing the truth would set him free, but if anything it was just pissing him the fuck off. 

Donna shook her head, ignoring his outburst. Her expression had turned wistful, like she was reliving the past more than she was talking to her son in the present. “It was just one time, just that one night. I was so lonely, Carmen. And Sam seemed nice, he listened to me. Actually listened.” 

Suddenly, Carm was struck by the impression that none of this was real. Something about the way Donna was explaining the situation didn’t add up. Richie made it sound like there was more to this than some drunken one night stand. The betrayal he described was deeper than that. Some, or possibly all of this, was an act. 

“I don’t believe you,” he mumbled. 

That brought Donna back from whatever booze soaked fantasy she’d drifted into. Between gritted teeth, she hissed, “What did you just say?” 

Carmen met her gaze, “I said, I don’t believe you. You’re lying.” 

She sucked in her breath, jaw clenched, winding up. “Carmen Anthony Berzatto, how dare you accuse your mother of being a liar. How dare you.” That old familiar growl made the hair on his arms stand on end. She only used his full name when she was getting ready to unleash hell. He took a step back, no longer so sure in his own anger. 

“Mom,” to his surprise, he felt tears stinging the corners of his eyes. He tried to blink them away, “I just want the truth.” 

“No!” Without warning, she hurled the half-full wine glass across the kitchen, where it shattered against the opposite wall. Carm felt a few drops of wine splash on his cheek– she hadn’t missed him by much. “You came here to crucify me! You came here to shame me! Well I’m not going to stand for it! If you only knew what kind of man your father really is, what he’s done, you’d be on your knees thanking me for saving us from him, not interrogating me in my own home!” 

Carmen backed toward the door that lead out to the front hallway, hands up in a defensive posture, “Mom, I didn’t mean–” 

“Get out! Get out of my house!” She grabbed the closest object to hand, which happened to be a heavy crystal ashtray, and drew back as if she was about to launch it at him. 

He bolted out of the kitchen and down the hall, grabbing his jacket and throwing open the front door in one smooth motion. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to run from Donna.

Once Carm made it to the sidewalk, he stopped for a second to catch his breath. She wasn’t chasing him this time, which was a small miracle. He was doubled over, hands on his knees, breath misting out in the bright morning sun. He glanced around at the neighboring houses. As always, everything seemed peaceful and calm on their little street. Nobody had a clue what went on inside his house– inside his family. 

He happened to look down at his white t-shirt and realized the whole left side was stippled with drops of red wine. Probably how his shirt would look if he was standing next to someone when they got shot, except the stains were just a little too purple to actually be blood. Wonder if Mom’s blood looks like this now? Is it mostly wine? A strange giggle escaped his chest. Was he losing it? He straightened and took a deep breath, steadying himself. 

At this point he only had access to two people who could tell him what happened between his mom, Sam Morris, and Jerry Berzatto. At least one of them had just lied and then thrown a wine glass at his head, so that door was closed. That left just the one remaining participant. 

Sam. 

(To be concluded…)

#the bear fanfiction #the bear au #carmy berzatto #donna berzatto #the bear fic #the bear fx

[danniburgh]

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 21

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +4.9k

Chapter warnings: uhm, this chapter is Javier’s perspective ehehe, so, beware fo feelings

A/N: This chapter is set in season three, episode ten. // again, i am really fucking sorry, but we are ALMOST DONE OMG, also i wanna say thanks to my official cheerleaders @queenofthefaceless and @maharani-radha-writes​ that helped me a lot and @alliterative-albatross​ that made me feel sure of some of the ideas i had for this chapter, i love you lots, guys. While proof reading this chapter for the first time i understood why it was the hardest to write, it was because i had just to strip myself naked and understand more of Javier Peña as i had built him... i just... im not quite pleased with the second half of this, but i know its needed.

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gif: @javier-pena (thank you so much for making this when i needed it the most, ily)

The air weighed on his chest; he felt his lungs struggling to find air; as he drove home, he felt his heart pounding hard and fast, as if it wanted to rip out of his chest and run and hide and die.

As if his heart wanted the same he did.

Javier couldn’t sleep that night. He didn’t even try to close his eyes after climbing into bed.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

Jesus Christ.

His mind was reeling, he couldn’t stop replaying every single thing you told him in his mind.

“My name is not Florencia Martín”

“A precarious situation”

“Another Los Pepes scenario”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He wanted to crawl into a deep hole and bury himself to stop his body from feeling.

Javier cringed deeply when he remembered he had told you he had fallen in love with you without even thinking about it.

That certainly wasn’t the way you were supposed to find out.

He guessed, while tossing around on his bed, on the same sheets that still smelled like you, that he had it coming. He probably deserved it. But that didn’t make him feel any better, it stung.

It burned.

Javier had stripped himself naked for you, more than just his body, he had let you see him; he had let you touch him; he had let you read him; he had let you know him.

He had let himself feel and… he had let himself think he deserved something good.

He felt like such an idiot, stupid and embarrassed because there you had been… Standing in front of him, in a place he thought it would become something close to his fortress, breaking him. And he let you.

God. He had known you for less than six months, and yet he let you have power over him. All that power to make him whatever you wanted. He had handed you a sledgehammer and his heart and soul on a porcelain platter for you to shatter.

And he just took it.

Javier huffed at his own thoughts while his eyes were glued to the ceiling.

He was an idiot, wasn’t he? Having let himself feel all those things he had been so beware of for a woman he never really knew.

What else was fake about you?

He felt that sting, known and oh so foreign clench in his throat and he fought it. He fought it hard. Why was he feeling like that?

“A precarious situation”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He sat up and brought his knees to his chest, clenching his jaw so tight his face started trembling.

He had to unclench it so he could open his mouth and gasp for air because his lungs were tightening in his chest and he knew he just had to let go. He shook his head to nothing and fought it again. He would not break. He couldn’t.

But then he remembered he was all alone. Just him and his mind and... he stopped fighting for the first time in years and allowed his feelings to pour down from his eyes.

Javier clenched his jaw again as he felt the thick, years old tears pouring and pouring, clouding his sight, flooding his face.

“Fuck,” he muttered to nothing, resting his face on his hand and his arm on his knee, his chest struggling with the silent sobs he was drowning in.

Javier cried for around an hour.

He allowed himself to cry, to cry for you, because if he had allowed himself to fall in love with you and he had allowed you to wield power over him, he deserved a chance to fall apart as well.

He had earned it.

His tears of grief and pain became tears of anger and pain.

He was so angry; at himself, because, thinking again about everything you had told him, you had said something right; he had dragged you into having whatever the hell you two had. He had kissed you and practically turned your wrist into starting something with him only, and just only because he felt lonely. Because he felt like maybe, for the first time in decades, he could have something good. Because he felt like maybe it was time for him to love and be loved again when, in reality, he didn’t deserve to be loved by anyone.

He had let himself believe you could be something else, less complicated. But how wrong he was… Him? Loved? As if. Him? In Colombia? Laughable.

That country… It became more than clear how much he had lost by going down there.

He huffed again in between tears at how it took a massive hit to the heart for him to realize how much he had lost in the years he had been there.

He was so angry; at the system. The fucking system that forced you and him into taking assignments you didn’t deserve to take. There wasn’t another moment he hated more right then, than the moment he had said yes to returning to Colombia. His dad was right, he didn’t like what he found. And it truly changed him before he could change it. How he wanted to have listened to him, how he wanted to not be the stubborn ass he was and just… said no.

And you? You had taken an assignment that promised unreachable things, one that forced you into turning into a liar, one that didn’t let you be yourself.

Fuck, was he really trying to find justifications for what you did even though you had broken him in pieces?

He was so angry; at you. For lying to him and from dropping the facade, for taking off the mask that he had rushed to love, for thinking he deserved the truth instead of you leaving once everything was over. He thought it would have hurt less if you had just… disappeared.

He wouldn’t be crying at three in the morning on his bed if you had just vanished into thin air.

Javier remembered seeing the hope in your eyes when you were telling him the truth, who you really were, he saw it and he wanted to tell you he forgave you. But neither of you deserved something that good.

He was sure it all was some kind of karma. A penance for all his sins, a way too high price he had to pay for all the shit he had done.

He realized then, while sitting on his bed in the middle of the night, the same one he had shared with you for nights that felt burned into his memory, that you and him weren’t so different.

That you two had more in common than he had first thought. That you, as he had said to you before, when you were still wrapped around his arms on that same bed, were a person who was willing to do anything for a greater cause. That you as well were capable of doing anything if you thought it did good, that you also were capable of sacrifice, of losing everything as long as you were doing what you thought was the right thing.

And you had told him, as you cried your eyes out in front of him, facing him and facing and taking all the repercussions of your actions, that you really thought it was the right thing to do.

The realization was truly bittersweet. He didn’t like that even when you had broken his heart and stepped on the pieces as you walked out, he still understood why you did it.

After that despaired, miserable night, he decided he was done bringing you to the front of his mind, so he shoved all the memories of you and tried to repress them in the back of his head along with countless others he didn’t rather to address.

The next day he stepped into the office with less than half an hour of sleep he had seemed to catch while condemning himself in the solitude of his room and avoided looking at your still cluttered desk. Full of you.

He ignored Stoddard when he asked him where you were as he stepped out of the office to head to Cali an hour later and while the elevator brought him down to the lobby he tried to drown the way the mention of your fake name made him feel.

That morning you walked directly to the CIA office, every step you gave into the embassy hurt in your body, mind and soul as if each one had a dagger embedded deeply and an invisible hand was twisting each dagger deeper. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. You entered, unannounced, into Stechner’s office, not even trying to hide the enormous amount of pain you were going through. You were tired of hiding things.

“Ah, my favorite DEA agent,” Stechner said when he saw you walk in “well, not anymore, I guess.” he smirked and you felt his gaze linger on your body, shamelessly.

“Let’s just get this over with.” you muttered, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Oh, this is more than over, alright?” the man leaned back on his chair and reached a manila folder that rested on top of others on his desk and raised it so you could see it “resignation, what a word,” he said, putting the folder back on the desk, opening the folder and taking the sole sheet of paper on his hand “really? after you failed almost epically?” Stechner smiled humorlessly and took your resignation letter in both hands and… ripped it in half.

You drowned a gasp.

“You have a flight to Washington today at noon.” he let out softly, feigning a comprehensive tone.

“Of course I do.” you mumbled, dropping your arms to the sides, feeling your eyes flood with tears as you saw him tossing the parts of your resignation letter in the trash can.

You blinked the tears away and quietly took a deep breath, halfway achieving a fake sense of stability you had fed yourself since the night before.

What were you thinking, after everything you did they would have let you get off easy? Of course not you silly girl.

“Oh, honey, you need a hug?” Stechner asked with a teasing gaze and a fake tone of worry “I bet breaking up with Peña really did something on you, you look like a mess”

You tightened your jaw and rolled your hands into fists, Stechner noticed, and his mocking face dropped.

“Anything else?” you asked him, voice hardened, with your eyes staring right into his, admonishing him, warning him. He knew what you were capable of, you knew he did.

He shook his head twice, and you lifted your chin up.

“I really wish you the best, sweetie.” he mumbled, dropping his gaze to his desk and trying to ignore the way your face turned into a scowl at the endearment.

“No, you don’t, you fucker,” you all but growled wanting nothing more than to erase that seemingly permanent smirk off his face that grew after he raised his head to look at you “you’re happy that I’m getting out of here like this,” you chuckled bitterly “you wanted this to happen, I hope you’re satisfied.” you let out all the venom you had been keeping inside you for that man in the last sentence you spat to him.

“You’re right, but I won’t say it,” he tutted and shook his head slowly “you really cost us a lot, sweetheart,” he mumbled and you were sure you were about to spit foam from the rage inside you “I hope you know that.”

You sighed and smiled bitterly at the man. Ever so fucking disgusting. For the first time in your life, you wanted something bad to happen to someone. And you didn’t regret it.

“I won’t ever forget it.” you spat at him in a soft voice that made him glare at you with a serious face.

You turned around and walked out of his office, leaving the door open, feeling his stare on your back.

Feeling, then more than ever, the insides of your mind finishing crashing down. Finally broken. Fully broken.

You walked towards the elevator and pushed the lobby button, hoping to dissolve in the way, hoping the elevator floor would just break and the void swallowed you and your body crashed against the concrete floor of the second basement.

But instead, the doors opened on the DEA floor and Stoddard stepped inside, shooting you a concerned smile as the doors closed.

“Hi, Florencia,” he looked at you and you tried to give him a smile, knowing you failed “you okay?” he asked, you blinked a few times before looking at him. He pushed his glasses up.

“Yeah!” you let out in a squeal “just peachy.” you drifted your eyes away and sighed again.

“I… thought you were in Cali.” Stoddard let out after a few seconds, you turned to see him with your brow furrowed.

“Cali?”

“Well… yeah,” he shrugged “the boss and the guys went back to Cali this morning.”

You let out a sigh, of both relief and worry.

“Oh,” you said under your breath “no, I…” you shook your head and tried to smile at him again and failed, this time he noticed “I needed to take care of something else.”

“I see,” he mumbled, the elevator doors opened and you stepped out “you sure you’re okay?” he asked, looking at you, you nodded several times.

“Yeah, Stod,” you assured him, trying to make him believe it, not quite sure if you believed yourself “I’m fine.”

Stoddard nodded at you as the elevator doors closed and you waved him once goodbye. Knowing it would be the last time. You walked out of the embassy in complete and utter shame, and some part inside you screamed that you deserved it.

Javier rescued another witness that day, because he still wanted to do something right even though he didn’t feel right himself.

But then, after sending Guillermo Pallomari to Miami, he had to return to his office. That place he had thought was his fortress, and then it was turned into… a dungeon.

He didn’t ignore your cluttered desk this time; he was alone in the office, there was no one that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

A steel cup filled with different colored pens and only red markers, a pile of unsigned DEA reports, in one of the drawers a block of sticky notes running low, the same ones you made notes on and stuck on files when you reviewed them and that Javier hated to see because they were just so fucking bright, your red coffee cup you used when you didn’t have time to grab some at his house because he just kept kissing you until you both were late, which didn't happen at your place because Javier always woke up before you and started the coffee machine, a gun holster you hated to use because it just never clutched the way you wanted to your jeans and a small, brown journal he had never seen before and that he took because there wasn’t anyone that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

He hesitated for a moment to open the journal, unsure of himself or of what he would find. The first page had your initials, your real initials written on the far left corner and just a list of names he didn’t recognize, next a few scribbles and a phone number. Javier skimmed through the pages and around the middle he found his name. Written in your pretty handwriting, with a few numbers underneath that looked dangerously close to file codes.

He snapped the journal closed and left it where he found it. He shouldn’t have looked.

In his office he found all the documents you had risked so much to gather and all the intel you just handed to him, pretty much as he had handed you his heart.

Javier let out a sigh and grabbed the folders, sitting behind the desk and opening the first one.

He re-read every single piece of information until his eyes stung from the exhaustion, or the cigarette smoke, or maybe more unshed tears he was once again fighting so hard to keep inside him.

Tears of sadness, it was a given. But also anger, and frustration and pain, and, as a bucket of freezing cold water, years of regrets fell on him.

Javier had tried, had tried hard to bury all that shit in some far, deep corner of his mind, as he had tried to bury you and all his memories of the last four? five? months. He really did. But at that moment, sheltered inside an office that didn’t feel like his anymore, past midnight, alone and so damn vulnerable, it all rose to the surface and he found himself drowning inside a sea of his own mistakes and past sins.

It was unbearable to stay there. So he grabbed the files that felt like burning in his hands and took off.

And so, Javier went back to an empty apartment that even though had been his for a long time, felt emptier than it had ever felt without you and reminded him only of you.

Why had he allowed his house to become a fucking shrine to the time you had spent there?

Everytime he looked at everything, from the fucking lamp at the corner of the end table to the damn waterbottle you left the last morning you were there on his kitchen counter, an image of you invaded his mind. Like a suffocating wildfire, spreading with the simplest blow of the wind. Covering him, trapping him, burning him and turning him into ashes.

That night he drank almost all the alcohol he had left in his house and even then, with his body full of booze, his intoxicated mind all the time returned to you. To your face, to your eyes and that color that was so common yet somehow looked so unique, to your voice and how you called his name either on a whisper or on a scold, to your smile and how apparently you had one only for him, to your hands and how you used them one night to touch him and the next morning to grip a gun, to how you drove him crazy from the very beginning. Fuck, he loved you. And he hated you all the same.

You gave him your resignation letter, you had left a job you claimed you loved so much that you had taken on something that did you so much wrong. You quit because of what they made you do, and probably, just probably, he had to do the same. Because of what they did to him.

Was it worth it? Everything he did… Was it worth something? Anything?

He thought again of everything he had done in the past decade and felt sick at what his brain was showing him. It really wasn’t.

The idea of doing something good, doing something that could give him a little peace invaded his mind and he spent half the night thinking of something he could do to finally, finally feel like he was helping.

The next morning he found himself sitting in the conference room with Crosby hovering around him. He huffed at himself, sitting there as if there was nothing wrong going around, with the ambassador looking at him with his ever so present judgemental smirk, as if he wasn't just pieces of a man that put himself together with the weakest glue when he got dressed that morning with less than two hours of sleep after being trapped inside his house that smelled like you with nothing but alcohol and time to think. His pop was right, they did something to him in that country. He just didn’t know what.

“Y’know how many times I’ve gotten a call from the Department of Justice and State the same morning?” Crosby rhetored, Javier looked at him, already tired of the lecture he was about to get “count ‘em on one finger, guess we have you to thank for that.”

Javier dropped his eyes to the oak table in front of him and absentmindedly tried to draw a pattern with the tip of his finger while half listening to Crosby telling him about his meeting with the Colombian president to demand that the gentlemen of Cali stayed in jail. He looked back at his boss and after half a second of pondering he told him he had a draft indictment of the president’s ties with the cartel, omitting the part of the story where he had drafted it half drunk the night before. And of course Crosby laughed at it.

Javier huffed again at himself when Crosby suggested he kept the draft to himself and he felt his blood starting to boil. He sighed and fought the urge to stand up and leave. What was he thinking? That a man like Crosby would back up a man like him? Just like that? What a naïve thought.

“The DOJ’s not gonna topple a government, Agent Peña,” the ambassador told him, obviating the statement, Javier felt his chest turn “you can’t tell me you’re surprised by that.”

“Some part of me was holding out hope, I guess.” he muttered to Crosby, who walked around the table and stood next to him, Javier didn’t even bother to hide his face from him, god how tired he was of hiding.

“Well, you should tell that part to grow the fuck up,” Crosby spat and Javier drowned a bitter chuckle “no, I mean it, Agent Peña, you should be happy,” the ambassador said and Javier frowned at the man “you played the system like a goddamn fiddle, you won.”

Javier opened his mouth to rebut the statement but Crosby just walked behind his chair and left the room, leaving him with the word in his mouth.

He felt his stomach toss in disgust, at his boss, at his job, at himself. Fuck that.

“Yes, sir.” he mumbled under his breath.

Did he really win something? The job that helped him escape from everything, the one at some point of his life felt like a dream, had become a nightmare. The woman he grew to love, after years and years of not feeling that, barely got out of there alive and the name he had whispered in extasis wasn’t even hers. Everything he had once believed in was melting away like wax on a candle and being washed away by a sea of regret, desolation and anger.

Did he really win something when he had lost everything? He had even lost himself in the process of what he and everyone around him had called a once in a lifetime opportunity to end a War that was so familiar to him it almost sat at the table on Thanksgiving with him and his dad.

And when he got out of the conference room, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, the idea of following your steps and quit became a lot more attractive to him.

So he went back to his empty home filled with your memories, resigned that he wouldn’t sleep much that night either, and stood in the middle of the living room, not knowing why he felt like a visitor in his own house, chain smoking, thinking about everything just because he wanted to stop thinking about you.

Javier walked to his window and dwindled himself to watch the cars down the street pass, the city was so unaware of everything. The country was so unaware of how it was being torn apart by the same people that were elected to take care of it. And he was so fucking angry, at everything and everyone, at himself. And so tired. Exhausted.

The phone rang behind him and he didn’t even flinch at the sound, even when practically no one called his house phone. He just let the machine get it.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…” he stiffened in place when he heard your voice and turned his head to eye the cradle “I know you probably don’t wanna listen to me right now but…” you sounded small, your voice sounded thin, Javier turned around and walked towards the phone “uhm, I wanted to apologize again and…” he felt like he couldn’t think, his mind was filled with your voice as if it were a fog that clouded his vision, he wanted to pick the phone up, he wanted to ask you where you were and tell you to come home to him, but his brain wasn’t letting him “I–I’m in Washington and I tho–thought…” his eyes closed on themselves when he heard you sigh and choke down a sob “forget it, uhm, I just… fuck…”

Javier looked at the phone, the sound of static still there, he pondered if he should just swallow his anger and his newfound pride and just pick up.

“I think someone will contact you about this and I just wanted to let you know I–I didn’t tell them anything about... us…” he heard you chuckle softly and he just stood there, rolling his hands into fists, waiting for you to say something else, “I’m sorry, Javi, uhm… I really think I did the right thing by telling you, I’m just sorry it had to be like this…” you sniffed on the phone and Javier sighed, “I guess I also wanted, uhm, to hear your voice… shit.” he closed his eyes and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?” he said and gripped the receiver when the sound of the cut line replied to him.

Javier threw the receiver on the floor and sat on the couch, cursing at himself for his weakness and his hesitation altogether.

He rested his head on his hands while thinking on the few things you had said, if you were in Washington talking to the directives that meant they didn’t let you resign, that meant they were firing you. And you called him to let him know his involvement was minimal, because still after everything you were trying to divert the backlash from him.

God how he was tired.

That’s when he decided, he was going to do it. Not only for what you had made him feel, but because he just needed to leave back all the baggage he had been carrying with him for almost a decade. He needed to let go. He knew it, he needed to free himself of something that turned him entirely into a different person that wasn't even close to what he had been before, because no one else would do it for him.

And he had nothing else to lose. Absolutely nothing.

Once that thought occupied his mind, he finally could lay down on the couch and sleep.

The next morning Javier just re-dressed and called his journalist contact, he had decided, in his pre-sleep haze, that he was just gonna tell the truth. To everyone.

Just as you did with him, he was going to use all the information you had given to him to redeem yourself of your own baggage to get rid of some of his.

Even when he didn’t want to think of you, you were still helping him.

And the truth went out as he told it, and he let himself out of the whole situation by following your steps.

Until the ambassador called him into his office later that day and that time… Javier felt like he could tell the man absolutely anything.

He had nothing else to lose.

When he walked into the office Crosby was watching the news about his little interview. Javier walked and sat in across from him, feeling something that looked like freedom. But his mind was still reeling with guilt and loss.

“You didn’t really call the country that we’re guests in a narco democracy.” Crosby asked without asking, Javier looked at the man and shook his head once.

“Are you sayin’ that it isn’t?” he replied, looking at the ambassador tightening his jaw.

“The state department’s livid.”

Javier nodded a few times.

“Good, they’re responsible,” he let out and shrugged slightly “we all are.”

“Samper is not going anywhere.” Crosby let him know, quite exasperated. Javier dropped his eyes to the man’s desk.

“Well, at least people know the truth.” he said, including himself in the sentence. No more lies.

Javier saw Crosby shake his head and study the four walls that surrounded them, and he caught himself wanting to read him like you would be able to.

“I want you gone, Peña,” the ambassador told him, Javier guessed so “so do the colombians.”

“I understand, sir.” Javier replied and Crosby said nothing else. He looked at the ambassador for a few seconds and saw also a shell of a man. He guesses that it wasn’t so much the job that took a person’s humanity, but the context in which they do it.

He stood up and walked towards the door.

“You know…” Crosby called, Javier turned around “any aspirations you had for your career just got dragged behind the barn and shot.”

Javier licked his lower lip and allowed himself to look intently at the ambassador, the man looked at him with something he thought was pity.

“I resigned from the DEA this morning.”

Crosby stood up straighter when he heard it, Javier said it almost solemnly, and saying it out loud not only made it more real, but it really made him feel light as a feather for the first time since he was a teenager when he walked out of the ambassador’s office for the last time in his life.

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[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

Big, Ugly SOB

Warning: typical Walking Dead themes, smut, probably other stuff, be advised.

SHANE BABIES! THIS ONE”S FOR YOU! Slow burn, angsty, love, smut, it’s all here gals! Please like, reblog, and comment! I’d love to hear from all of you! 

Part One!

She grabs her pistol and heads out the door of the small shed and does a perimeter sweep before shutting the door. With a deep breath, she starts towards the high ridge. Heaving a sigh, she turns around and writes a note for anyone who may find her.

‘Headed to the ridge. Higher vantage point. Curious about Atlanta but not sure I’ll go.

If you need supplies there’s a day’s worth of jerky and some supplies in here.

Best of Luck’

She truly hoped that she’d find someone she knew. As a patrol officer of King County, she hadn’t run into a single other officer that she knew. Though, she didn’t take the main roads, as she knew the cost.

Hiking up the ridge through the woods, she hears soft talking and the voice strikes her deep in her soul. She knows that voice. The deep southern voice talking low just out of eyesight.

“Excuse me? I don’t mean to alarm you but I’m just looking to join a group--You are one big, ugly, dumb son-of-a-bitch.” There was the owner of the voice. Snorting, she quickly covers her mouth as she sinks to the ground cackling under her hands. Shane’s eyes glance to the old man next to him and back to her as she sits on the ground staring at him with a look of wonder as tears roll down her face.

“Officer Duke?” He hushes as a grin sweeps across his face. Pushing passed the old man, he grabs her hands and pulls her to her feet.

“It’s Lottie. C’mon Walsh.” She chuckles, reaching out and pulling him into a warm embrace.

“It’s Shane, silly gal. I can’t believe it. Look at you. Ugly and big, yes baby girl that’s me.” He croons, holding her arms out wide to look her over. Shaking his head with a chuckle, he turns to the old man and waves him over. “This is Lottie. She was one of the Sheriff’s Deputies like me. Lottie, this is Dale. Dale, Charlotte. C’mon Duke, this way.” He crows, hooking arms with her and dragging her along. As they break into a small clearing, she finds aa small group of people, including Lori and Carl.

“Hey, where’s Rick?” She asks, looking to Shane. His face sombers and he waves her to him.

“He’s gone.” He whispers, looking at Lori with a longing she could only describe as a silent plea of a lover. With a single blink the look is vanished from his face and he pats Lottie on the head. “Come say hi.”

“Lori, Carl, you two look so tired.” She coos as Lori’s face lights up. A blonde across the way eyes her with a disapproving look, but a younger blonde bounds up to Lottie with a grin and a hand shoved out to greet her.

“Hi, I’m Amy. The crabby one is my sister Andrea. That’s Carol and Sophia, Ed’s away in the tent. He’s not much fun. That one is Daryl, he’s a loner. And that’s T-Dog.” In order, Lottie’s eyes meet every face she’s introduced to, and most stick out a hand. Except for the crossbow weilding man, Daryl, she nods confidently to herself.

“I’m Lottie.” She waves, ducking over to Shane and hides behind him.

“Darlin’ I’m gonna head over here and get some water. Find yerself somethin’ to eat and get comfy. You can share my tent. Go get situated. Lori’ll get you acquainted around.” He waves Lori over and Lottie watches the exchange with wide eyes as Shane’s drink in Rick’s wife.

“Thanks Walsh.” She smiles awkwardly before disappearing into Shane’s tent. Spending her first day in the tent with Walsh, she puts her bags in the corner and rolls out her makeshift blanket, made of a couple sweatshirts and tee shirts she had found. Shane steps into the tent and sees her sitting in the corner and his eyes drift to the less than adequate bedding and he frowns.

“Hey, tell you what. I’ll take first shift on watch tonight and you can sleep in my sleeping bag, on the foam pad. It’s better than the rocky ground, Duke.” He holds up a hand to silence her and she feels her face heat up.

“Jesus Christ, I can’t do that--”

“I wasn’t asking. I’m telling you. I’m on watch first tonight, so you have to keep my sleeping bag warm. If not, I’ll--”

“Have Lori do it?” She whispers, and sees it strike a nerve on Shane’s face.

“You shut your mouth about that. Okay? Ain’t nothin’ goin’ on.” He barks, jamming a sturdy finger into her chest plate.

“Sure. I’d be that mad if there was nothing going on too. Rick’s dead, Walsh. Ain’t no shame in keepin’ his wife and son safe. You done good so far.” She assures, laying on her blanket and curling up against her bag.

“Hey baby girl. I said-” he leans down and hoists her up, putting her on his sleeping bag. “-to use this damn thing.” He croons, giving her head a soft pat before taking his gun and stepping out of the tent.

 Morning comes and she slips from Shane’s tent and out into the daylight. For only a second, it almost felt like the summer you went camping with the boys on the lake three years ago. Carl was too little so Lori had stayed home and it had just been Lottie, Rick, Shane, and Leon Basset, another man she hadn’t seen since the world ended.

“Mornin’ babygirl.” He croons, patting her shoulder as she walks up to the group of people sitting in chairs in a circle, finding a seat next to her and Lori.

“Mornin’ ugly.” She groans, pushing his hand up her shoulder to her neck where the kink is. Softly, he rubs the knot from her neck without a word.

“Darlin’ get you somethin’ to eat. Lori, can you grab her a plate?” He croons, patting Lori’s knee. She gives Lottie a half-assed mad look before rising and grabbing a plate with eggs and toast. Placing it into Lottie’s lap, cshe huffs under her breath, mumbling something.

“I’m sorry, what?” Lottie asks, looking at Lori.

“Not a damn thing.” She barks, giving Shane a dark look before heading into her own tent a little ways away.

“Yo, Duke. Over here. You take watch up top, I’ll be out and about. You see walkers, more than two, you give me or Daryl a heads up. Okay? And if you see more than that, give us more than a heads up. Okay?” He briefs her like they’re back on the force before leading her up to the look out atop the RV.

“Okay, I’ll holler if I see a bunch. Is someone supposed to take over for me later?” She asks as Shane hands over the binoculars.

“Yeah, couple hours Daryl will be up. Glenn and a few others went on a raid this morning, so when they get back they’ll do a round of watch. When your watch is over come find me.” He disappears down the ladder and she watches through Shane’s binoculars as Shane himself and Lori slip away into the woods out of the line of sight.

Once they reappear, Lori’s clothes are disheveled and Shane’s licking his lips with a prideful smirk on his full lips. Sucking in a breath, Lottie watches a moment longer as Shane takes a moment to tuck his shirt back in and lick his lips once more. Reaching up, his fingers sift through his jet black, fluffy curls and gives Lori--what he thought was-- a sneaky wink. Lottie watches the horizon and sees a white refrigerator truck barreling towards their camp and a red Charger wailing through the quarry, echoing off the walls. First the car comes to a stop and Shane charges them, yanking the relay out that belongs to the horn. Glenn steps out, jittery with excitement.

“You guys, this new guy absolutely saved our asses.”

“Glenn this group is big enough. Quit taking in strays.” Shane hushes.

“But your girlfriend isn’t one? Sorry, listen man. This guy was awesome, some kind of police uniform, not sure. One second,” the small Asian man sprints to the truck and when the binoculars land on the driver, she nearly falls off the RV.

“Holy shit.” She whispers, losing her footing a second time and tumbling over the edge. As she lands on the ground next to Dale, Shane’s eyes drop to her and he lands in the dirt next to her.

“Damn darlin’. New guy that hot?” He chuckles, helping her to her feet and dusting her off. With a quick once over, he finds nothing broken or busted, so he proceeds out to greet the new guy but stops dead in his tracks. Rick. Holy shit.

“Lori? Carl!” He shouts, falling to his knees as he hugs his family. Her eyes land on Shane in utter shock and he just releases the breath he’d been holding. “Duke. Shane.” He drags the two officers into a warm hug and she and Shane reciprocate.

  As night falls, she steps into the tent with Shane’s sleeping form and carefully steps over him. Laying down on her blanket, she hears some rustling around behind them, but she goes to sleep. Rolling over, she finds an empty space where Shane was. More rustling. A groan. In her groggy sleep, she ignores the sounds outside and grabs Shane’s pillow.

“Shane?” She asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Standing and stepping out the tent, she stretches backwards and is grabbed from behind. “Walsh, knock it off-oh shit.” She gives a whine and tries to run away. The walker tries to bite at her ankles, grabbing her pant legs. “Shane! Shane!” She screams , grabbing for anything on the ground to stab the ugly monster, but she grabs for the only thing near her. A stick. Kicking with her foot and knocking the diseased thing off her, she stabs a stick through his leg. Skittering to her feet she backs into something behind her. Another walker grabs her and she shrieks, this time Shane twists around and fires a rifle into her shoulder, killing the walker. He grabs her up and hoists her over a shoulder.

“Did it bite you? Baby girl?” His shouts become foggy and distant as she floats into unconsciousness. “No! C’mon darlin’. Rick! Rick come over here! Someone please!” His desperate cries echo through the camp as Carol grabs Lottie and carries her to the RV.

“Check for bites first.” Dale barks, jabbing at Lottie with the barrel of his gun.

 Early morning rises and she whispers to Shane, who’s sitting next to her, his hand on her arm and head on his arms.

“Shane, Walsh.” He jerks awake and stands erect.

“Mornin’.” He whispers, starting for the door.

“Where you going?” She asks, giving him a soft smile.

“I was just checking on you. I gotta tell the others you’re awake.” He gruffs, heading back to the door.

“Shane.” He stops again, searching her face for something. He walks back to her and leans down, taking her hand into his. “I saw you sleeping.” She whispers, gripping his hand.

“Ya, so I fell asleep there. What of it?” He barks, shifting from foot to foot.

“You were worried, weren’t you?” She coos, smirking at him.

“No. I knew you’d be fine.” He assures, patting her hand.

“Really? That doesn’t really seem accurate, Walsh.”

“Leave it alone.” He grumbles, thumping lightly down the stairs and out the door.

 A few hours later, she hears a couple soft female voices talking about her. “…..she’s just lucky Shane’s got a raging hard on for her…”

“.….she hasn’t lifted a finger here yet…”

“.…got attacked and Walsh left the group to save her. Such bullshit…”

“Amy probably wouldn’t be dead if it weren’t for that girl..-”

She steps out of the RV, groaning in pain with every step. Shane rushes her, reaching out to take her elbow, only to be shoved away weakly.

“Babygirl--”

“No Walsh. No more. I can’t deal with this. These bitches over here, whom I can hear claerly in there by the way! Won’t quit bitching about what I haven’t done. So I’ll just be over here.” She barks, pushing Shane away again. He huffs, watching from afar as she staggers over to the bench and grabs the legs of a walker. Grunting, tears running down her face, she sees Glenn grab the shoulders, but when his eyes meet hers he drops it immediately.

“Hey, maybe you should just sit down--”

“No. I’m gonna help. Grab the other goddamn end and lift. With your knees. Jesus christ.” She hoists the body up and carries it across the field. As they sit the body on the ground, her arms quaking, she drops the feet and crumbles to the dirt beneath her.

“Goddamn it.” Shane skids to her side, dust clouding around them as his hands grab her arms. “I just want you to relax. C’mon babygirl. Let me help you--”

“Get away! I can do it on my own!” She screams, shoving him away. “Just please, leave me here, Shane.” She shoves him once more and rises to his feet, heading over to Carol, Andrea, and the hispanic woman.

“You guys better keep your traps shut. She was shot and she was injured, and here you are, not doin’ a goddamn thing, bitchin’ about an injured officer who can’t lift anything. Kettle callin’ the pot black shit now, isn’t it? Leave her out of this shit.”

The next morning the group gets up and ready to leave, Shane leading her to his Jeep.

“Darlin’ get in.” He buckles her seat belt without a second thought.

“Quit treating me like your girlfriend, Walsh.” She mutters, pushing on his shoulder.

“I’m not.” He nips, grabbing her arm and throwing it away from him.

“Oh really? Were you gonna go around and buckle in every woman out there?” She barks back, raising a brow at him.

“Well no--I’m just--”

“You just suddenlt have this urge to keep me safe from harm? Like my goddamn boyfriend? You’re not Walsh, okay? So just quit. I can do for myself.” She drives, letting him head out behind everyone else.

“Okay, babygirl. I’m sorry. It’s just--when I thought Rick was dead, it hurt. Right? A-a-a-and when I saw you come through that brush like an angel, I just-hell, you almost had my ugly ass crying. I was just happy to see you.” He makes conversation while he’s driving. They get to the highway and slow to a crawl. The motorhome stops up ahead and all the others in the group get out to inspect.

As they ravage the hundreds of cars, like time stopped, they find lots of useful things.

“Bet ya’ll ain’t never wanted water so bad.” Shane chuckles, popping the cap on a waterjug and soaking himself. She watches on, laughing to herself as Shane bathes in it. His eyes land on her, grabbing her arms and pulling her to the truck, popping another cap and gently pulling the rag she’d tied up her hair with and shook her curls under the water. “Ooh! Babygirl, you look so good with those wet curly locks!” He cheers, giving her a sopping wet hug.

“Walkers!” The screech is enough to freeze her in her tracks.

“Everybody under the cars.” Rick’s gentle voice carries and Shane grabs her hand, pulling her under a box truck.

“Walsh, look. I can lead them away--”

“Ssh. Shut up. Do you remember that shoot out with me, Rick, and you? And you said that we wouldn’t make it out, and what did ol’ Shane do?” He asks, patting her arm. They lay on the hot concrete under a box truck, the various sharp stones digging into her knees and arm.

“You got us out.”

“And you didn’t think I could did ya? But I did, babygirl. So trust me again. C’mon, darlin’. You just roll your front against my back as tight as you can, okay? We’ll make it again. Trust me. Now ssh. I see a bunch a’ feet movin’. Don’t make a goddamn sound, babygirl.” He whispers, breathing out as he feels her huddle as tight as she can against his back. “I got ya baby. I got ya.” He coos almost as a breath, trying to be silent. “Lemme have your hand.” He whispers, her hand snaking over his ribs and grabs his open hand, squeezing. “Take a deep breath, let it out slow. Show time.” Her mouth bites into his shoulder, he shivers and squeezes her hand tighter. One of her legs slips over his and she’s almost melded into him as one person.

When the horde finally works through, Shane looks over his shoulder to find her asleep against him. Gently shaking her, as she awakes, and looks confused. For a moment, she looks like a glorious sunny day sitting by the lake under a shade tree after a long nap under the summer sun.

“You look like you had a good nap.” He chuckles, rolling to face her, still on the ground and their noses almost touch. “Wow, last time we were this close you remember what we were doing?”

“Yeah,” she laughs, pushing awkwardly at his shoulders. “I think it was some stupid party and we were playing seven minutes in heaven.”

“Yeah, and I got to second base with Haley Duvall that day. You were a prude though. You shut down so fast, even when I tried to score.” He chuckles, leaning dangerously close to press his dry lips gently to her cheek.

“I did, Walsh. Then we went from cops to surviving this ugly ass world now.” She crows, hearing a blood curdling scream. It draws them both from this happy cocoon they were in, and she scrambles from under the truck.

“Hey, also?” He leans so close his voice is but a whisper of hot air over her neck. “Don’t ever bite my shoulder like that again unless you plan to finish what you start.”

“Shane I--” He gives her a dark smirk and a wink, making her body tingle.

“What was that?” He asks as he gaits over to the group.

“It was Sophia. She ran off, Shane. Rick went after her.” He grumbles, grabbing Lottie’s hand and heads for the woods.

“We gotta find that kid.” He states as they slip into the woods.

#Shane Walsh #shanewalsh #Shane Walsh x reader #the walking dead #walking dead #jon bernthal #jon bernthal is too goddamn good at acting. #jesus christ shane #shane walsh angst #shane walsh slowburn

[kipscorner]

Headernotes:

- THIS IS A LONG POST! - Anything in Parenthesis, feel free to change or remove - Feel free to change pronouns to match - Thank you for reblogging and using! <3

“(Name), can you explain again what we're doing?”

We're kicking off our fun, old-fashioned family Christmas by heading out into the country in the old front-wheel drive sleigh...to embrace the majesty of the winter landscape...and select that most important of Christmas symbols.”

“We're not driving all the way here so you can get one of those stupid ties with the Santa Clauses on it, are we?”

“Some jackass is riding my tail.”

“(Name)! Don't provoke them!”

“Burn some dust here. Eat my rubber.”

“Eat my road grit, liver lips!”

“(Name), stop it! I don't want to spend the holidays dead!”

“Will you just take it easy, (Name)? I'm in complete control.”

“(Name), we're stuck under a truck!”

“Do you think I don't know that?”

“For Christ sake, I didn't do this on purpose!” 

“My toes are numb.”

“I can't feel my leg.”

“(Name), that thing wouldn't fit in our yard.”

“It's not going in our yard, (Name). It's going in our living room.”

“She'll see it later, (Name). Her eyes are frozen.”

“Hey, (Name)! Where do you think you're gonna put a tree that big?”

“You've got a lot of nerve talking to me like that.”

“I wasn't talking to you.”

“It looks great. A little full. A lot of sap.”

“Did I tell you I talked to my mother?”

“They've decided they're coming for Christmas too.”

“You're forgetting how difficult it's gonna be having everybody in the house.”

“(Name), they're family. They're not strangers off the street.”

“Yeah. And about my mother accusing your mother of buying cheap hot dogs. And your mother accusing my mother of waxing her upper lip.”

“I want to have Christmas here in our house. It means a lot to me. All my life I've wanted to have a big family Christmas.”

“The question is, what will you do with that bonus? Gonna blow it on yourself, I hope.”

“Oh, my God, you're putting in a pool.”

“Layman's terms. None of that inside bullshit jargon nobody understands.”

“Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Kiss my ass. Kiss his ass. Kiss your ass.Happy Hanukkah.”

“Wouldn't be the Christmas shopping season if stores were less hooter--Hotter than they are.”

“You have your coat on.”

“There is a nip in the air though.”

“Can I take something out for you?”

“'Tis the season to be merry.”

“Folks! Folks! Folks! Merry Christmas!”

“Look at how big you've gotten!”

“They're not sleeping in my room. I'm gonna go crazy.”

“We're gonna have the best-looking house in town.”

“Come on, unravel these. You have to check every bulb. Got a little knot here. You work on that. I'll get the other box.”

“Would it be indecent to ask the grandparents to stay at a hotel?”

“We're all making sacrifices, (Name).”

“Well, I don't know what to say except it's Christmas and we're all in misery.”

“And why is the carpet all wet, (Name)?”

I don't know, (Name)!”

“I hope nobody I know drives by and sees me standing in the yard, staring at the house in my pajamas.”

“Talk about pissing your money away.”

“Let's get in where it's warm.”

“Now, look, if you need any help...give me a holler. I'll be asleep.”

“Where the hell is that cold coming from?”

“I want to take off these clothes, sit with a glass of wine and kiss your body.”

“Are you out here for a reason, or are you just avoiding the family?”

“Do you honestly think I would check thousands of lights if the extension cord wasn't plugged in?”

“You deserve a home like this to spend Christmas in.”

“You taught me everything I know about exterior illumination.”

“I hope this adds to your enjoyment of the holidays.”

“You got a kiss for me?”

“Better take a rain check on that. (pronouns) got a lip fungus they ain't identified yet.”

“We named him that because he's got this sinus condition.”

“You pet him and he'll love you till the day you die.”

“If I woke up with my head sewn to the carpet, I wouldn't be more surprised then I am right now.”

“After that long drive, we could use a little private time together.”

“(Name), help me get some hot chocolate. It's cold.”

“A little tree water ain't gonna hurt him. Before we left, he drank a half a quart of Pennzoil. Boy, when he lifted his leg the next morning…”

“It's a crying shame the older kids couldn't make it.”

“She's got these big horns growing right out above her ears. Yeah, she's ugly as sin, but a sweet gal. And a hell of a good cook.”

“Can I refill your eggnog? Get you something to eat? Drive you out to nowhere and leave you for dead?”

“Oh, that there? That's an RV.”

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm in the middle of an important call. Get me somebody. Anybody. And get me somebody while I wait.”

“We're gonna fly down the hill with this stuff.”

“You know that metal plate in my head? I had to have it replaced because every time (Name) revved up the microwave...I'd piss my pants and forget who I was for a half-hour or so.”

“Nothing like waiting till the last minute, huh?”

“What are you doing up, sweetheart?”

“You shouldn't use that word.”

“I don't think he should be nervous and you shouldn't be either. Because if you're good, Santa knows it. If you believe in him and you believe in your mom and you believe in your...Your dad. If you've been good all year round, Santa is gonna bring you something.”

“Well, I happen to know for a fact that Santa Claus is real. And in the next couple of days… somehow I'm gonna prove it to you.”

“It's good you came to stay with us.”

“I think you'd better go back to bed now.”

“Aren't you having any breakfast?”

“Oh, the silent majesty of a winter's morn. The clean, cool chill of the holiday air.

And an asshole in his bathrobe emptying a chemical toilet into my sewer.”

“It's a sewer. If it fills with gas, I pity the person who lights a match near it.”

“Merry Christmas. Shitter was full!”

“In seven years he couldn't find a job?”

“(Name) and I want to help you give the kids a nice Christmas.”

“This isn't charity. It's family.”

“If you don't tell me what they want, I'll go out and get it on my own.”

“Is your house on fire, (Name)?”

“No, those are Christmas lights.”

“Don't throw me down, (Name).”

“Oh, that was fun. I love riding in cars.”

“Oh, dear. Did I break wind?”

“You shouldn't have brought presents.”

“This box is meowing.”

“(Name)? (pronoun) passed away 30 years ago.”

“They want you to say grace. The blessing!”

“I told you we put it in too early.”

“I heard on the news that a pilot spotted Santa's sled on its way from New York.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, (Name)?”

“If he keeps it up, it will be his last Christmas.”

“Look what you've done to my tree!”

“It was an ugly tree, anyway.”

“I'm sorry if I've been a little short with everyone lately.”

“...I didn't have enough in my account to cover the check.”

“I can't swim, (Name).”

“(Name), that's the gift that keeps on giving the whole year.”

“If this isn't the biggest punch in the face I ever got. Goddamn it!”

“I wanna look him straight in the eye and tell him what a cheap, lying, no good, rotten, four-flushing low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed ignorant, bloodsucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless ignorant, bloodsucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless heartless, fat-assed, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where's the Tylenol?”

“He's got that crazed look in his eye.”

“Turn that thing off and get in the house!”

“Aren't you a bit sorry we didn't get a Christmas tree?”

“Well, where you gonna find a tree at this hour on Christmas Eve?”

“Could you just keep it in mind the next time you go berserk?”

“I didn't go berserk. I simply solved a problem.”

“You couldn't hear a dump truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant.”

“I'm gonna catch it in the coat and smack it with the hammer.”

“I'm going in with him.”

“You just march right over there and slug that creep in the face.”

“I can't just attack someone.”

“Where do you think you're going? Nobody's leaving. Nobody's walking out on this family Christmas. No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm

holiday emergency here.”

“We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fuckin’ Kaye.”

“And when Santa squeezes his ass down that chimney tonight he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nut house.”

“Worse? How could they get any worse? Take a look around you, (Name). We're at the threshold of hell!”

“You losing your temper with the whole family only makes things worse.”

“Are you gonna recite The Night Before Christmas?”

“No. It's your house. It's your Christmas.”

“You about ready to do some kissing?”

“I'm sorry. This is our family's first kidnapping.”

“I'll be more than happy to take the rap on this.”

“If you wanna come in, you are gonna have to break down the goddamn door!”

“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

“I did something I shouldn't have, and these people called me on it.”

“It's Santa Claus!”

“She thinks she sees Santa.”

“No, it's the Christmas star. And that's all that matters tonight. Not bonuses or gifts or turkeys or trees. See, kids...it means something different to everybody. Now I know what it means to me.”

“That ain't the frigging Christmas star. It's a light on the sewage treatment plant.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.”

#Christmas Meme #christmas inbox meme #christmas vacation #national lampoons christmas vacation #sentence starters

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Louis and/or Harry use drugs during the course of the fic. If you support our rec lists and want them to continue being made, please reblog this post and spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Lips Are Like The Galaxy’s Edge | Mature | 2365 words

Harry licks over Louis’ hole slowly, deliberately, and his tongue is like velvet and Louis’ skin is burning at every junction where Harry touches him and it’s all so good he thinks he might cry. He licks a few more times, moaning softly like he’s relishing the taste of Louis and that’s just, well, fuck.

2) Can You Feel The Fever | Explicit | 5113 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.

Tour has Harry exhausted. Luckily exactly what he needs is waiting for him in his Sacramento dressing room.

3) Read You Like A Book | Explicit | 8089 words

Louis realises Harry can read his mind. He’ll do anything to make Harry admit it. Set during the North American leg of the WWA tour.

4) Put You On Repeat, Play You Everywhere I Go | Explicit | 8290 words

Harry is a college radio show host and Louis is a contemporary dancer attending said college. After a drunk hook-up, naturally a whole bunch of pining, dedicated love songs and make-out sessions on dance studio floors ensue.

5) Keep It Sweet In Your Memory | Explicit | 17039 words

'How'd it go?' Harry pushes them into Niall's room and shuts the door behind him, so Georgia doesn't overhear.

'It was good. We just caught up, mostly... I may have done something a little stupid, though.'

And Niall's eyebrows are in his hairline at that.

'I mean. Okay, so I invited Louis out on Saturday.'

'Saturday? Your--'

'Yes, my bachelor party...' and then Harry has to explain himself, 'I just felt guilty. I think. He was like. Telling me he wanted to hook up.'

'He WHAT!?'

'No. I mean, not with me. Like. He wants to go out and meet people.'

'He'll hate that. He's too much of a romantic.'

'Yeah, well. Whatever his name was messed him up a little, it would seem.'

6) Never Understood What Love Was Really Like (But I Felt It For The First Time Looking In Your Eyes) | Not Rated | 18431 words

The one where Louis meets Harry at 14 and things don’t quite go as planned.

7) Ain’t My Fault | Explicit | 18690 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

AU. Liam posts an ad on the wrong section of Craigslist, Louis is pretty sure they’re gonna get murdered as a result, and Harry’s missing an avocado.

8) Kiwi | Not Rated | 24110 words

AU. Harry plays on Saturday nights at The Motley. Louis bartends on Saturday nights at The Motley.

It’s a thing.

9) Honey, Make This Easy | Explicit | 25483 words

AU; Harry’s sister recently passed away, leaving him with temporary custody of her daughter. Needing help, he hires Louis as a nanny and the boy turns out to be help in more ways than he expected.

10) Can’t Fool Me | Explicit | 30162 words

AU where Louis hates fraternities and would never be into a frat boy. And one of these things is definitely not a lie.

11) Captain Jack | Explicit | 31752 words

Note: Please take note of the tags and warnings on this fic before reading

Louis has been searching for something and Harry is there to give it to him. Drugs, sex, disappointment, and the tangled web they’ve woven that keeps them trapped in the same cycle.

12) Can I Make It Any More Obvious? | Explicit | 35560 words

AU where Louis does ballet and Harry is the epitome of everything Louis’ friends want him to stay away from.

13) Bluebird | Explicit | 39024 words

The 2,789 miles between New York and Los Angeles is a long way to go alone.

14) Another Hazy May | Mature | 41042 words

Louis is a terrible poet and Harry lives in the now and they have six weeks to fall in love but, really, it only takes six seconds. bookshop meets military meets summer romance AU ft. Marlboros, the backstreet boys, and underrated literary devices.

15) Looking Through You | Explicit | 41905 words

Just as Louis and Liam were starting out in the music industry, writing and producing for up and coming artists, a fateful meeting with new pop singer Harry Styles changes everything. Four years later, just as Harry is set to embark on his next world tour, a drunken confession causes a rift between once inseparable friends. As Harry tries to make sense of his feelings for Louis, he begins writing his next album to express them as it may be the only way to break through the walls that Louis has built between them.

16) Tangled Up In You | Explicit | 45152 words

Harry blinks once. And blinks again. And says, his voice dangerous: “Niall, did you get me a mail-order bride?”

Because what the actual fuck. It kind of looks like Niall’s just purchased a person. For Harry.

Niall blinks back at him for a few moments, before throwing his head back and howling with laughter. Harry throws a pillow at him. Hard. “No, what the fuck, Harry.”

“A prostitute then?” Harry also doesn't want a prostitute.

“Of course not!”

“A stripper?”

“No!”

Damn, he’s running out of ideas. He settles for launching another pillow at Niall’s head. Niall bats it away easily, still laughing. “Stop!”

“What did you get me, then?!” Niall must hear the tinge of hysteria in his voice, because he’s pulling himself together, trying to stop himself from laughing.

There’s still a big grin on his face, though, when he says, “I got you a professional cuddler.”

A professional…what. “What?”

17) Apples Always Fall (As I Do For You) | Mature | 54609 words | Sequel

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis is staying at his Aunt's farm in a small town in Minnesota for four months. To deal with the boredom that sets in a week into his stay, he starts working at the local apple orchard, owned by twenty six year old Harry Styles.

Louis quickly finds himself falling in love with the orchard, and he finds a family in Harry's friends Niall, Liam, and Zayn.

He also starts to fall in love with Harry.

Falling in love with him turns out to be the easy part.

18) Into The Midnight Sun | Explicit | 63525 words

It’s 1983, Harry embarks on his first world tour and Louis is a budding actor in LA. Life spent apart isn’t easily adjustable, but somehow they make it work.

19) Like Real People Do | Explicit | 64175 words

Louis didn’t ask for a lot of things. He didn’t ask for his entire family to die in a car crash that may or may not have been his fault. He didn’t ask to get powers out of that accident, either, powers that eventually led him into a two-year relationship with a man who was far more than met the eye. But one night, he chose to ask for a replacement to a broken camera from someone he hadn’t spoken to in a year and a half. He did ask for that. And that kind of led to everything else.

20) Liberté | Mature | 64603 words

AU. 1647. “Pretending you don’t have a heart is not the best way to not get it broken. It’s just the easiest.”

21) Pinkies Never Lie | Explicit | 83615 words | Sequel

AU in which Louis hates his job and loves Harry, Harry just wants a distraction, everyone else wants them to get their shit together, and Louis learns the hard way that new beginnings are only possible when something ends.

22) Baby Heaven’s In Your Eyes | Explicit | 120875 words

They couldn’t be more different if they tried. Louis Tomlinson is 17 years old and in his last year of the most prestigious private school in Doncaster. If there’s one thing that completely annoys him, it’s that there is a poor community college right across the street.

Harry Styles is 19 years old, and (once again) in his last year of college. He goes to community college in Doncaster. He never shows up to classes and if he actually bothers to, he’s either high or drunk; sometimes both. His skin is littered with tattoos and if there’s one thing he absolutely hates, it’s the snobby students attending the private school right across from his.

23) Saving Symphony Hall | Mature | 124766 words

Note: This is a sequel to this fic. This fic has been locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that’s the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

24) I Only Ever Want You | Explicit | 180079 words

Note: This fic is the sequel to this fic.

Louis & Harry and Liam & Zayn begin to have sex in front of each other and a lot of kink-discovery results from that.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #drug use #drug tw #larry #fic recs #blp #blp fic recs

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

She [2]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: Steve deals with the aftermath of his recent notoriety.

Note: Alright, so I know this starts slow but I promise it is a steady creep towards the finish line. 

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Steve

It was a morning like any other. Steve woke up, pulled on his track pants and a light blue tee, and took his time tying his old sneakers. He stretched as he neared the door and hopped down the front steps of his walk-up. It was early and as quiet as New York got.

He set off on his usual route. It was his only chance to just lose himself. He could just run and not think about everything that awaited him. He was due at the compound that day; another briefing. That one thought tugged at his mind. Was it time?

When he returned to his townhouse, he jogged up his steps and let himself inside. He had some water and made his usual breakfast. Two eggs and four strips of bacon with rye toast. He sat and ate alone. The place felt empty.

It had taken him over two years to renovate the place and he missed the flurry of activity. He hadn’t felt so lonely then, even when half the world had disappeared. Now it was just him. He felt less and less himself every day. Bitter, resentful, tired.

He rinsed his dishes as he stared at the deep red tiles above the sink. He sighed. He’d tried dating. He was about as great at it was he had been when he weighed as much as his left leg. He dried the plate and placed it among the stack. He didn’t know why he had so many; it was only ever him. The glass went with the rest and the utensils clattered loudly into the drawer. 

A buzz sounded. The noise was quiet but nagging. He often ignored it. He left his phone by the door when he got home to charge and only took it when he went to work. It continued to vibrate. It was ringing. He unhooked the cord and answered as Fury’s name flashed up at him.

“Rogers,” He answered as he headed upstairs. “I’m on my way. I’m not due for another--”

“You’re due when I say you’re due,” Fury snapped. “Which is now.”

“Alright, just let me get dressed,” Steve huffed as he sat on his bed and kicked off his shoes. 

“Maybe start answering your phone,” Fury snarled.

“It was charging.” Steve argued. 

The line went dead. He tossed the phone on the mattress and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. For all he did, it was never a please or thank you, it was only more, more, more. 

He stood and pushed his hair back. He’d take his time just to spite Fury. The biggest act of defiance he could muster. He went into the bathroom and cranked on the shower. He closed the glass door and let it steam up before he stripped. He glanced in the mirror. 

He wondered what life would have been if he had stayed the skinny boy who punched up. He was certain even that would be a happier existence than this. He had sold his soul for what? It didn’t have to be him, it could have been anyone. Why had he always insisted on being the big guy? The hero?

He pulled open the shower and stepped inside. The cloud of steam settled over him and he closed his eyes. No, it did have to be him because there was no one like Steve Rogers.

🖋️

Steve walked into the compound. He was agitated. He had been accosted coming out of his house by some photographer and had resisted the urge to swat him away like a fly as he unlocked his car. The compound was worse. A dozen people with cameras awaited him as he pulled up to the parking lot gate and waited for the booth operator to let him in.

He took the stairs. Fury greeted him with crossed arms and his usual one-eyed sneer. This couldn’t be good. He held a magazine and turned it to reveal the cover. Steve squinted and shrugged as he stopped before the irritable man.

“Look closer,” Fury shoved the magazine towards him. 

In the corner, Steve recognized himself. An edited photo which showed half of his face with his cowl on and the other without. A small tagline stood out below: ‘The Man Without A Plan: Steve Rogers’ Struggle for Stability’. He grabbed the issue and looked closer at the glossy cover in shock.

“Shit,” He swore.

“Shit?” Fury repeated. “So I guess I don’t have to remind you of what you said to that reporter.”

“Why are you mad at me? You approved the interview.” Steve flipped through the pages to the exclusive.

“But I didn’t give the interview. If I had, it wouldn’t have made the front cover,” Fury hissed.

“No, it would all be redacted,” Steve started to read through. “I didn’t--”

“You didn’t say any of that?” Fury challenged.

“No…” Steve looked up. “I did but I…”

“You let a journalist get the best of you.” Fury shook his head. “And now your plastered all over the city.”

“It’s one magazine,” Steve said.

“You need to start using that goddamn phone of yours.” Fury reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. He quickly typed and turned it to Steve. “Search yourself once in a while. I know it’s tacky but shit.”

Steve read over the top news articles; ‘Steve Rogers lashes out at journalist in report’ and ‘Rogers’ Dilemma: Hero condemns ungrateful civilians’. He pulled back and looked at the magazine again. The stabbing in his heart turned to fire.

“That little--” He clamped his lips together to keep from swearing. 

“Come on,” Fury glanced around. “Let’s talk somewhere else. This much attention on you, we can’t be too careful.”

He followed Fury through the halls and past several training rooms. He thought of the reporter and her pensive eyes. The way she’d watched him so closely as she scribbled on her notepad. She’d seemed harmless until she started asking questions. 

After he calmed down, he’d nearly forgotten about the whole debacle. He assumed it would be buried like most of his interviews. One day of press and then done.

Fury led him into the plain office which looked like it was never used. It was as clean and clinical as an operating room. Fury leaned on the desk as Steve pored over the last lines of the article and paced.

“There’s not gonna be a briefing this morning,” Fury said. “Not for you.”

“What--?”

“It’s best we keep this quiet but… Rogers, you need a break. Take it.” Fury pushed back his long leather duster as he gripped his hips. “Maybe get away from the city until this all dies down.”

“Get away? This is my city,” Steve hissed. “I won’t be run out by some… some…”

Bitch! He wanted to say but he held it in. Even in front of this man, he had to put on a mask. He could never just say what he was thinking. What he was feeling. He bent the magazine and hit it with his palm.

“It’s just an article. Christ. I think my job is a little bigger than some gossip rag.” Steve huffed.

“I’d agree but it’s not just my call and it’s not just about you. We have a team, a younger team now. They can’t be distracted by all this.” Fury said.

“How long?” Steve asked.

“Two weeks.” Fury replied. “For now.”

“For now?” Steve repeated. 

“It should all die down before then but if it doesn’t…”

“This is bullshit.” Steve barked. “What did I say that was so wrong?”

“The concern is your temper and as ridiculous as I thought that was, I’m starting to see the sense in it.” Fury sneered. “You need to calm down, Captain.”

“I don’t have a temper problem.” Steve snarled.

“Why don’t you read that again? You were hostile and some would think intentionally trying to intimidate that reporter. A female.” Fury said pointedly. “Who, by the looks of her, isn’t much of a match for a super soldier.”

“I was across the room from her,” Steve argued. “I didn’t even raise my voice.”

“People won’t know that. They know that you got aggressive, quickly it seems, and then shut down the interview abruptly.” Fury took a breath. “You’re only lucky she stopped where she did.”

Steve glared at Fury. He gritted his teeth as he gripped the magazine tighter.

“Fine,” He uttered. “Two weeks.”

🖋️

Steve didn’t realize he still had the magazine in his hand until he got in his car. He sat, staring blindly out the windshield, then slowly looked down. It was bent in his grip and as he let it fall onto the passenger seat, it remained warped. He shoved his key in the slot and turned the engine.

Still, he didn’t budge. He grasped the steering wheel and a rumble began deep in his chest. A carnal growl. He invited her into his home and she ruined his reputation in return. 

Perhaps he was still the naive little Brooklyn boy. He thought she was so sweet over the phone. She was just as self-serving and apathetic as everyone else in this world. The very same he had saved, time and time again.

He pulled out sharply and flashed his pass to the booth. There were still photographers out on the sidewalk; waiting for him. He drove without thinking. He had never felt so angry. He had never let himself be this angry. Always holding it in for the sake of others. Always compromising his feelings because it was ‘right’.

He stopped parallel to the curb. His vision cleared and he peered up at the tall building. He shouldn’t have come here but he was there and he couldn’t stop himself. He turned off his car and waited.

He muted his phone as it kept buzzing; Bucky, Sam, all his team members. Asking where he was or maybe about his new found infamy. Well, he wasn’t their leader anymore. Not for the next two weeks so they could take care of themselves as he found something else to do. Something for himself, for once in his life.

He didn’t know how long he waited. Probably too long. An hour or two. Then he saw her. She appeared through the front doors of the building, her attention on the open purse in her hand. She dropped it as a camera flashed and Steve leaned his seat back as he watched her scramble for the overturned contents.

She didn’t look malicious. At a glance, she was just another girl. She picked up her purse and resumed her route past the photographer. He watched her through the rear view as she disappeared into a sandwich shop just a few buildings down. 

He readjusted his seat and hovered his hand over the ignition. He paused and closed his eyes. What was he doing? Let it go. It would all just go away.

He started the car and pulled out into traffic. He was edgy and found himself leaning a bit too hard on the gas. He stopped short as he almost hit another car. He punched the dash and swore. She could play innocent but she wouldn’t get away with it. Not if he had anything to say about it.

🖋️

Steve went home but not for long. Another photographer outside his house as if he would give them a show on his front stoop. He went inside and paced his front room then went to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. He wasn’t hungry. He went upstairs and changed. Black pants, grey hoodie, a dark blue ball cap to cover his blonde hair. He fished out his only pair of sunglasses and found his way back to the first floor.

He peeked through the window. The photographer was still there. He went to the back and glanced out into the small fenced yard. Nothing but the patio set he had yet to use and overgrown grass. He went back and grabbed his keys and wallet. He sneaked out through the back gate, careful that no one saw him slip down the next street.

He walked to the subway and strode down into the station. He checked the time as he climbed on the train. He sat by the door and his leg jiggled impatiently. He stopped it with his hand and looked around. No one else seemed to notice his anxiety or him. It had been a long time since he felt invisible.

He got off and slipped past the crowds. He walked the same street he had lingered on hours before. He kept to the other side of the street as he checked the time again. Would she already be gone? He kept to the mouth of the alley and watched the photographers as they waited by the front doors.

When she came out, it was the same as before. She scurried away from her own ilk as they attempted to talk to her and catch her in their lens. They left her at the subway entrance; their cameras too expensive to chance in the underground. Besides it would be difficult enough to get a shot in a car full of people.

He crossed the street and quickly descended the grimy steps behind her. He caught sight of her just before she disappeared onto her platform. He kept his distance, far enough that he’d get on the next car. The train pulled up and he watched her step inside before he mirrored her.

When the train shifted, he waited a minute before he slipped through the doors to the next car. He sat at the end as she huddled in a seat on the other side. She kept her head down, her eyes on her phone. The old New York solitary. She looked entirely vulnerable and it made something inside of him flinch. A subtle snap as he couldn’t look away even as she did nothing at all. 

She was nothing compared to him. He could break her as easily as he did criminals and villains. Probably easier. He gulped as he pushed his shoulders back and tried to resist the thoughts. No. He wasn’t that. He didn’t do that. 

But what was he doing? Following her; watching her. He hadn’t thought about that. He’d just done it. What would he do from here? Follow her home and what? He could try talking to her but for what? The damage was done; she couldn’t undo what she’d done. And she likely wouldn’t want to. 

She had used him to climb her way up the ladder. Now her name was featured alongside his and the world was at her feet. She was the innocent and he was her antagonist. Well, if that’s what she wanted.

As the train stopped, she stood and he did too. Almost too quickly. He slowed and kept several bodies between them as he followed her out onto the platform. She continued up onto the streets and he stayed with her. Close enough to see her but far enough she wouldn’t see him.

Her building was among many sentinels looming along the New York skyline. Boxy overpriced apartments which were often barely more than a single room. He watched her flit inside and waited. Slowly, he approached the door and stepped inside the small entryway. It was empty. 

He searched the rows of buttons for her name. The speaker was outdated and dirty. Even he could tell. Her last name was half-faded. He memorized her number and went back out into the street. He inhaled and shoved his hands in his pockets as he coolly walked on. He stopped just past her building and looked down the alleyway between it and the next.

The dimming sky contrasted the wrought metal of fire escape. He glanced over his shoulder and turned down the alley. The dumpster stunk and broken bottles littered the ground around it. He stopped beyond the stinking box and looked up. He bent his knees and jumped, catching himself on the bottom rung of the ladder.

He pulled himself up. Second floor, he noted. He climbed the first set of stairs and the next and on until he reached her floor. He counted the windows across the side of the building but it barely helped. He didn’t know where they started and ended.

He went to the end of the escape and the window beside him lit up. He ducked and listened. He could hear every step on the other side of the wall. His enhanced ears could even measure the heart beat within. He slowly raised himself and peeked over the window ledge.

He couldn’t believe his luck. Or the coincidence. It was her. Her purse was on the table as she removed her blazer. Her small apartment was cluttered but not messy. She yawned as she went to the fridge. She took out a slim can of sparkling water and opened it. She searched the shelves and pulled out a styrofoam box. She picked at the contents with a fork as she leaned on the narrow counter.

She slid her phone from her pocket and set it beside her leftovers as she scrolled with her finger. She turned it over and pushed it away from her. She sighed and flipped the lid closed. She tossed the container in the bin and crossed to the couch on the other side of the counter. 

She dropped down and flipped on the television. She spread out with her head against the arm. He could see her face as she wriggled and pulled the tails of her blouse from inside her pants. She unbuttoned just the first few buttons and then let her arm hang off the side. She fiddled with the remote then set it on the low table in front of the couch.

He watched her for a while. She didn’t do much. She just laid there. She turned onto her side and took off her socks. She closed her eyes but opened them shortly after. She changed the channel again and he backed away from the window.

He thought of forcing it open but didn’t dare to think beyond that. The little tug at the back of his mind scared him. What would he do if he just went in there? What could he do? He shuddered and crawled over to the stairs. He descended carefully.

When he reached the ground, he dropped down and took a breath. There was a heartbeat racing in his ears. It was his. He looked up and licked his lips. It took all his strength to walk away.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #she #fic #au #mcu #marvel #series #captain america #dark fic #dark!fic

[yikesharringrove]

Thanks for reblogging all your old writing! I’m in love with those where Steve and Billy are sharing a bed. Can we please have more of it?

Here’s my other bed sharing piece! This is not in the same universe lol

-

Steve shivered.

He always got so fucking cold at night. His mom always said he had circulation issues. He thinks it has more to do with the phantom chill his nightmares bring.

“Harrington, I swear to fucking God.” Billy grumbled from the bed above him.

Billy had offered to share the bed in the dingy motel room they were sharing outside of Chicago.

Billy had an appointment with an experimental doctor, and had asked Steve to drive him out there, stay with him while the new doctor assessed his damaged body.

But when they got to the shitty motel, there was only one room left, with only one bed.

And Steve was tired enough to just hand over his dad’s credit card and move on.

He had insisted Billy got the bed, his perpetually sore body was hurting from the way the doctor had manhandled his weak muscles.

Steve shivered again.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Sorry, Billy.”

“Just get the fuck up here if you’re cold.”

“No, no I’m good down-” he violently shivered again.

“Steve. Get the fuck up here.”

Steve huffed, but he pulled himself off the floor, and slid into the double bed.

He stayed as close to the edge as he possibly could, didn’t want to push his luck, push his gay fucking feelings all over Billy.

He was barely covered by the thin blanket, trying to control his shivers, wrapped in his thick sweater.

But his next shiver rocked the whole fucking bed.

Billy groaned.

“Come here.”

“Um, I’m okay here.”

“Steve, I can’t fucking move, so you gotta come to me.”

Billy knew what buttons to push to get Steve to do what he wanted, and the I’m injured because I almost died for you is his constant go to.

Steve scooched over.

“Closer.” He scoot a little more. “Like, close enough to touch.” He moved a tiny bit more. Billy gave a long suffering sigh. “I’m trying to share fucking body heat, man. Not trying to perv on you or whatever. Just come here.”

Steve took a deep breath, and closed the gap between them.

His back was pressed against Billy’s chest. Billy tossed an arm over him. And he realized Billy was shirtless.

He traced the scars winding up his hand, his wrist.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Steve apologized about three times a week for Billy’s near death last year.

“Not your fault.”

“But I should’ve, noticed that you were off.”

“Why would you? We weren’t friends back then.” Billy’s arm tightened around him. “You’d notice now. That’s what matters, I guess.” Steve shuffled in Billy’s arms. He wanted to turn around, wanted to look at Billy as they laid together, wanted to watch him sleep and pretend that, that it was more.

He shook his head, completely disgusted in himself.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just thinking.” Billy scoffed.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” He laughed as Steve slapped his arm. “What’re you thinking about?”

“I don’t know. Just, stuff.” Just gay stuff about his best friend. You know. The usual.

“Stuff. Right.” He patted Steve’s tummy a few times. Steve’s face was hot.

Billy shifted a bit, pressing in closer to Steve. He could feel his breath on his neck, ruffling his hair slightly.

He shivered.

“How are you still cold?”

“You were breathing on me.” Billy started blowing cold air on the back of his neck.

“Stop!”

“Make me!” He blew harder.

Steve forgot himself for a moment, caught up in the moment, and turned around.

He could just make out Billy’s features in the dark, the slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw.

He averted his eyes, tried to look anywhere other than Billy’s lazy grin.

He glanced at his chest, tracking the pattern of his scars, pink and puckered.

He spread his hand over the large one in the center, feeling the rough skin, the way Billy’s heart beat.

“I’ve never seen the ones on your chest.” Billy’s hand came up to cover Steve’s.

“I mean, I don’t really hide them.”

“I know but I, it just felt rude to look, I guess.”

“Doesn’t feel rude now?” Steve’s eyes snapped back to Billy’s face, found him grinning at Steve’s sheepish look. “You can look. I don’t care. ‘Specially not if it’s you.”

“What, what do you mean?”

“I feel safe with you, I guess. Always have.”

“Me too. I mean like I feel safe with you.” Billy chuckled softly at him.

“I know what you meant, Pretty Boy.”

“Just checking.” Billy’s smile slowly faded as he studied Steve’s face.

“You mean a lot to me.” Steve’s breath caught in his chest. “Always have. Even though I was shit at showin’ it.”

“No I, that’s okay. You, you mean a lot to me too. Like, a lot.” Billy’s smirk was slowly returning.

“Yeah? How much?”

“Like a whole bunch.”

“A whole bunch? Wow.” Steve rolled his eyes as Billy laughed. He wheezed for a moment after, making Steve nervous.

“Are you ok-”

“I’m fine, Stevie. Old lungs aren’t what they used to be.”

“You mean they’re somehow worse than when you smoked two packs a day?”

“Don’t talk about smoking, Pretty Boy. Makes me want a cig.”

“Then what should I talk about?”

“What were you thinking about earlier?” Steve swallowed thickly.

“You.” Billy hummed.

“Anything good?” Steve bit his lip.

He could just, tell him.

He could open his mouth and say just about how I’m in love with you.

But he was too scared.

Always too scared.

“Just about today. The doctor.” Billy’s face fell. “The stuff he did, was just really interesting. I’ve never thought about stuff like that.”

The doctor had done something experimental, was basically like a chiropractor for muscles, believed shifting and rubbing out the muscles would help with the pain in them, the misalignment of Billy’s body after the traumatic surgeries.

“Yeah. It was cool.” His voice was clipped.

“I don’t know, just medical stuff like that, I don’t really understand it at all. I think it’s neat.” Billy gave him a little half smile.

“It’s cute when you call things neat.” Steve flushed. “And it’s cute when you get all flushed and embarrassed.”

Steve tried to hide his face in the pillow under his head.

“Quit it,” Steve whined out.

“Nah, Princess. Not gonna.” Steve shifted to glare at Billy with one eye. Billy ran one hand clumsily through his hair. “I think you’re real cute.”

“I, I-uh,” Steve didn’t really know what he was gonna say, just felt like he needed to say something.

But Billy was looking at his lips, his hand big and warm on Steve’s cheek.

“You have to know how I feel.”

“I, what? How do you feel?”

“Steve, I haven’t been fucking subtle. We’re literally in bed together.”

“But I don’t, subtle about what?”

“How much I fucking love you.”

Steve’s heart fucking stopped.

“You, I’m sorry, what?”

“I love you. I’m in love with you. Have been for a long fucking time.”

“But you, I don’t, get it.”

“What do you mean you don’t get it?” Billy was starting to get panicked.

“You’re, you love me? Like for real?”

“Yeah. Wouldn’ta said it otherwise.”

“I, I love you too. Like, like a lot.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I do.” And Billy smiled so hard his eyes crinkled.

“Really gave me a fuckin’ heart attack there, Baby. Just starin’ at me.”

“Sorry, Bill. I just, I wasn’t expecting it. I thought I’d keep being secretly in love with you forever.”

“Sorry to fuck up your plan, then.” Billy just kept smiling at him, eyes big and bright. “But movin’ is still a no go for me here, so you’re gonna have to kiss me.”

Steve wiggled closer, one hand trailed up Billy’s arm. He kissed his cheek first, too excited to get to do this. He kissed his forehead.

“Stevie. On the fuckin’ mouth.” Steve kissed his nose. “Steve.”

Steve gave in.

The kiss was soft, just a gentle press of their lips together. He nipped at Billy’s bottom lip as he pulled back. Billy moaned softly, his eyes still closed.

“How was that?” Billy’s eyes were bright when he opened them.

“Everything I wanted it to be.”

#this is soft and gay #yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble

[all1e23]

Astrophile [Pt.16]

Chapter: Double Star

Summary: Pizza and Cuddles. 

Warnings:  Fluff. 

A/N:   So sorry this has taken so long to get out, but here it is! Only one more chapter to go. I can’t believe it’s nearly over! 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed! Thanks!**

Pizza was Y/n’s pick for dinner. Mostly because it was rather late by the time they made their way towards a place that served food, thankfully they live in New York though and can get pizza nearly any time of the day or night. Within reason, there was an unfortunate incident when Steve and Bucky were in college, and it turns out six in the morning is pretty hard to find a pizza place that will deliver. Tonight though Bucky wouldn’t have cared what they ate or what they did, she could have offered to make macaroni and cheese back at her apartment and, not the good kind either – the old school blue box with the powdered cheese and, he would have taken those stairs two at a time if it meant he got to spend a few hours alone with Y/n.

All he’s wanted for weeks now is to have her to himself for just a little while. Selfish? Might be, but Bucky doesn’t spend a lot of time being selfish these days. The last time he did anything remotely selfish he ended up with a late-night phone call from a panicked one night stand letting him know he was about to be a dad and, hey, that time it all worked okay – scratch that, it worked out better than okay. It was amazing. Ori is the best part of his life, and maybe she came from a self-indulgent moment, but she is one of the few good things in his life. 

He can add one more thing to that list now that he has Y/n. 

Y/n spent a lot of time talking over dinner. Who knew extra cheese makes her so chatty? Not that she didn’t open up to him on any other night they’ve spent together, but something about this conversation is different. She tells him about growing up with her grandparents, which kids always thought was so cool because who doesn’t like going to their grandparents, right? It’s all candy and hugs, and dollars slipped into tiny hands with the whispered promise not to tell mommy and daddy. 

Of course, Y/n loves her grandparents, but it wasn’t always easy when she was little. They were older grandparents because her parents had her later in their lives so they couldn’t go on field trips or participate in field day. There wasn’t a lot of money to hire extra help for the bookstore so often only one of them could make it to dance recitals or talent shows. That made Bucky briefly wonder if Ori ever feels the same on those long nights when she’s sleeping at Nat’s because he can’t be home with her. He’s spent countless nights lying awake worrying that she’s spent more time with Nat than with him and, one day when she’s all grown up she’s going to resent him for that.

Y/n being Y/n picks up on it right away, quickly squashing the thought with a firm reassurance, Don’t even think about it, James Barnes. You give that little girl your whole self. I’ve never seen a more devoted father. It’s not the same.

At the time, Bucky had rolled his eyes and leaned forward to wipe a bit of sauce off her nose before urging her to go on. Which she does but not before ducking her head to hide that little shy smile of hers. She goes on to tell him about college and taking over the store when her grandparents could no longer run it. She reveals how her parents left to attend a conference and never came back – the calendar, the ink, and the childhood heartbreak. 

All of it.

By the time they arrive back at her place, she’s told Bucky about the pencil on her calendar and how she’s still hesitant to write anything down in permanent ink.  He caught a quick glimpse at the faded marks where their date should have been written on their ascent up the back stairs that lead directly into her apartment from the back office. Bucky knows nearly every secret her heart has to tell, so he figures sharing a few of his wouldn’t hurt. After all, she’s the reason his heart is beating faster, the cause behind those butterflies in his stomach and her smile… well, nothing sparkles quite the way she does when she’s smiling at him. 

And when they are together like this, the whole world makes sense. Everything snaps into place as if it’s always meant to be the three of them. 

“And she just left?“ 

Bucky nods and leans back against the arm of the couch so he can see Y/n as he continues, "Yeah, she grabbed her skinny jeans and took off." 

"I hate that for Ori and you,” she tucks her legs under her and leans her head on the back of the couch facing Bucky, and says with disbelief, “It’s hard to believe she didn’t want to know Ori. She’s the best kid, Bucky. She’s bright and funny and so kind and generous. You did such a good job raising her, and she adores you. You should see the way she lights up when you’re around.”

He offers her a shy smirk and drops his eyes to the woven red thread of the couch because it’s too much to hear those words and see the spark in her eye as she says them. He’s only human. He can only take her beauty in small doses. 

"Thank you. That means a lot. I had a lot of help, though. I’m not sure she would be so amazing if it weren’t for all the help I’ve had over the years. Especially Nat.” 

"Yes, she would. She’s half you after all. Where do you think all that good came from?” 

Bucky looks up and shakes his head, but he couldn’t stop the grin. She scoots closer to him and nods towards the television.

“Pick a movie, Buck. You know I’m right.”

They are navigating something wholly new, and somehow it didn’t feel new at all. Having Y/n tucked against his side as a movie plays in the background and feeling her fingers tracing the lines of tattoo suggests this isn’t the first time he has held her like this, but the thudding in his chest is there to remind him how fresh her touch is. Her fingers pause on the main star of his tattoo, and she looks up at him raising her brows. Bucky reveals the reason behind ink on his arm without her having to ask. He tells her it was a bad night a few months after Ori was born. Steve got hurt pretty badly, and they weren’t able to save a little girl who lived on the top floor of a three-story brownstone. 

He tells her how he couldn’t explain what happened, but Bucky knew at that moment he needed to have a piece of his little girl with him when he was running into buildings most people were running out of and, she had said, “So, you put your heart on your sleeve for all to see.” If it was even possible she gained another piece of his heart right then – that’s assuming she doesn’t already have all of it.

“You would make a very handsome chimney sweep,” Y/n observes as they watch Jack dance across the small television in her living room. Bucky had whined until they put on Mary Poppins Returns, claiming he really didn’t like that she missed movie night and things wouldn’t be right until she watched it.

Bucky dramatically clutches his chest and gasps, “Are you just hanging out with me for my looks?” 

She giggles and buries her nose in his neck, admitting against the soft skin below his jaw, “You do have very pretty eyes, but no. You like me for me. That’s why I like being with you.” 

He doesn’t say anything. Bucky can’t because there is an extremely high chance he’s going to say something stupid. He simply grips her legs that are resting on his lap, pulling them securely against him and she can feel a soft kiss landing on the crown of her head. The world calms enough to let her know she’s the one that’s spinning and everything outside her window quiets, waiting for them to admit what everyone around them already knows. Y/n’s head falls to his shoulder, and she looks up to meet his admittedly pretty eyes, but the words she wants to say die on her tongue and the stars sigh in frustration. 

They had time to talk about it about another night. There is something she needs to know now, though. 

“Hey, for Halloween–”

“Nope.” 

“Come on! How cute would it be?!” 

“It’s not gonna happen, Beck. No matter how far you stick out that lip.” 

“What if I cry?” 

“Christ– Dammit…Please don’t.” 

She breaks down into a burst of laughter thanks to the look of panic mixed with genuine pain on his face. Bucky playfully narrows her eyes and grips her hips, curling his fingers into just enough to give her a hint to what’s about to happen. She doesn’t have time to protest or beg him not to, his fingers are squeezing her sides until she’s breathless with laughter and somehow amid all the tickling, she ends up on his lap with her head resting against his chest. Her chest is still heaving as she attempts to steady her breathing and debates climbing off his lap to claim her former place beside him, but Bucky rests his chin on top of her head and wraps his hand around her calf – his silent plea for her to stay and keep his heart in one piece. 

So she stays.  

Her attention turns back to the movie after tangling her fingers into the soft fabric of his dark blue Henley and burrowing herself as close to his warmth as she can get. This is the first time in nearly a week she let herself relax, and her body is taking full advantage allowing her to give in to how truly exhausted she is, skimming the surface of sleep while surrounded by that earthy, slightly citrus scent that can only belong to Bucky. 

“Come on sleepyhead,” Bucky whispers against her ear as the credits begin to roll on the screen. He is already lifting her into his arms and carrying her towards her bedroom by the time her sleep riddled brain thought up a comeback, and it’s a fairly weak retort that she manages to mumble into his chest, “I am not sleepy." 

Bucky chuckles, "Sure, you’re ready to run a marathon.”  

He lays her on top of her heavy red and orange comforter and pulls the plush white blanket at the end of her bed over her, whispering into the darkened room, “ Get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow.”  

Bucky slowly pulls back letting go of her hand as he retreats from the queen size bed. Something about the whole moment makes him think of putting Ori to sleep, and it has him grinning. Y/n’s eyes flutter open for only a second, and she grabs his hand to keep him from leaving her alone. 

“Don’t go. Stay. Cuddles.” 

Even through her sleepy haze, she can tell he’s hesitant, she cracks an eye and sticks out her bottom lip, pleading with a sleepy voice, “Please? I’ll cry if I have to.”

Good grief, between Ori and Y/n he’s completely screwed. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll stay,” Bucky says instantly. 

He toes his boots off in record time and parks himself next to her on the bed, running his fingers through her hair. He can tell she’s still floating around the edges of sleep despite the proud smirk on her face from getting her way. It’s not that he doesn’t want to slip under those cotton sheets and spend the night wrapped around her, he does. He wants to wake up to find her legs tangled with his and her whole body draped over him, but he also wants her to feel safe when she’s with him. 

Always.

“I’ll stay till you fall asleep, but then I’m moving to the couch. I am not sure you’re in the right headspace to consent to cuddles.” She smiles at that as she leans her head against his thigh and takes a deep breath of his scent before letting herself drift off. 

The early afternoon sunlight comes too soon. They were up till nearly four in the morning and waking up before noon feels like a punishment no one deserves, but maybe Y/n can convince Bucky to sleep in a bit longer. She rolls to her left side and throws her arm out, hoping to connect with a warm body for cuddles; all she finds is a cold empty space, and she jolts up. 

Did he leave after he carried her to bed?

Y/n tosses the blankets off her and slowly wanders into the living room looking for her phone in hopes he at least left her a message, but as she approaches the couch she sees Bucky– He’s crammed his massive body onto her tiny couch and used the small crochet blanket she keeps on the back of said couch to cover him; it doesn’t come close to enveloping him and all those holes didn’t help to keep the cold air out. She decides to let him sleep. Muffins were put in the oven and coffee was brewing, they stayed up late, and he deserves a morning without rush or worry. Breakfast is nearly done and she's in the middle of debating if she should wake him now or let the muffins cool first when a hoarse voice calls from the couch, “Are you making me breakfast babydoll?” 

The spinning is back. 

“Maybe,” She calls back as she makes her way towards the couch with two cups of coffee, “Or maybe I’m just making myself breakfast.” 

Bucky drapes her blanket back over the arm of the couch and sits back down, making room for her to join him. He pictured her apartment a few hundred times, and this is close to what he thought it would look like. The couch was big and red, sitting right in the middle of the room, two green armchairs sit under the far window and the old twenty-four inch tv they watched the previous night is sitting on a lime green chest that he is sure her grandparents bought brand new. 

The black trunk she uses for a coffee has Y/n written all over it, with well worn leather straps and the curio cabinet on the far wall across from the chairs has hand painted flowers on the doors. It felt warm and full of light and all Y/n. Everything had a place he noticed. There isn’t a mess. Not like his place where the mess never seems to end and after getting to know Y/n’s heart the last few months he understands why she likes the mess so much. Y/n sits down next to him and the again cushions sinks, Bucky raises a brow and shakes his head in disbelief.  

“Nah, you wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t want me to cry now, would ya?” 

“No, I think it would break my heart to see you cry,” Y/n glares at his playful wink and passes him the mug full of coffee she made for him – Black with two sugars. Just the way he likes. She takes a sip from her own mug and smirks as she asks, “Did you say consent to cuddles last night?” 

“What?” Bucky clears his throat and holds the ‘i need space’ mug in front of his face, hoping to block the red he knows is rapidly spreading over his face, he says, “No, I didn’t say that. I don’t– I don’t recall that.” 

She giggles, and it makes Bucky grin. He loves that sound almost as much as he loves– likes her. His head is telling him it’s too soon for big feelings like those. If only he can get his heart and head to agree. 

“I have to work tonight,“ Bucky mentions, letting it linger in the air and lifting his left arm for Y/n to curl into his side like she’s been hinting at with every little scoot closer. She’s awake. She can consent to cuddles now and he’s hardly able to keep his hand off her. She looks up from his side where she snuggled up to and asks, “When do you need to leave to get Ori?” 

“Uh, here soon, actually. I like to spend time with Ori before I go in if it’s possible. Do you want to come with me to pick her up? I have to bring her to Nat’s for the night, but I thought maybe we could pick her up and get an early dinner together before my shift.” 

Her entire face lights up, and so does Bucky’s soul. 

“You don’t mind me coming with you? I don’t want to take up your day with her. I know you guys have your alone time and it’s hard to come by.” 

“Ori will be excited to see you. She’s had me all week. I think she’s missed our hangouts and I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to come,” He assures her with a kiss to the side of her head and a gentle squeeze to her hip.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll go with you after muffins, deal?” 

“Deal. Oh, and you can plan on being at movie night on Wednesday because it feels wrong without you.” 

“Hold on a second,” Y/n says as she practically jumps off her couch and runs over to the wall calendar that hangs on the wall in her kitchen. She grabs the nearest pen and scribbles on next Wednesday, “Movie night with Bucky and Ori.”

Tony was right. It’s not so scary when Bucky is the one holding her hand. 

-------

When Bucky told Y/n, Ori would be excited to see them all together he was not kidding in the least. She screamed so loud Bucky’s pretty sure the neighbors are going to call the police to do a welfare check. Sam spent their entire twenty-minute visit grinning like a maniac because Bucky held Y/n’s hand the full 1,200 seconds they stood in their doorway– he fully intends to make Sam pay for every single comment the second he falls asleep tonight. After lunch, Ori asked Bucky if she could spend the night with Y/n instead of Natasha. If it were anyone else he would have told her she needed to stay with Aunt Nattie, but it’s Y/n – it’s their Beck. 

Ori would be just fine with her.

They swing by the house and grab Ori’s things so the girls could have a sleepover in the bookstore because who wants to sleep in a comfy bed when you can spend the night in a sleeping bag on the hard floor in the middle of the bookstore? Y/n and Ori Facetime him before bed, making sure he got a picture of their tent with the twinkle lights from Ori’s birthday party, and first thing in the morning they are calling with a cheerful good morning shout. By the time Bucky hangs up he’s grinning like an idiot and he can’t help but wonder if this is what it would be like if it were the three of them all the time. 

He would be okay with that. 

Sam collapses next to Bucky on that old orange and brown couch, glancing at Clint and Steve before nudging Bucky’s boot with his own, “So, she asked you to be her date to Tony’s wedding? That’s a year from now. I am pretty sure that means she doesn’t plan on dating anyone besides you. Not to mention you spent the night at her place.” 

Of course, the three jerks Bucky has chosen as his best friends have not quit him about Y/n for the last sixteen hours. That is all thanks to Sam informing the entire station Y/n was there when he picked up Ori. He really needs new friends – friends that mind their own business. 

“I slept on her couch,” Bucky retorts with an eye roll and, Sam is quick with a recovery, “Yeah, but she wanted to snuggle. Why can’t you just admit you love her? She’s perfect. I am failing to see the problem.”

There’s that big, monumental four-letter word again – love. Why can’t they take things one day at a time? Why does he have to jump in headfirst and possibly ruin everything they have right now? The last time he asked her out, she cancelled for crying out loud! Bucky doesn’t want to push too fast and maybe, lose her for good this time.

“I wouldn’t say we are at love just yet and it’s a big step, Sam. It’s not like Zoey or Claire–” 

“God, I did not like her,” Sam groans. “She couldn’t even say Ori’s name right.”

“I don’t think she had much interest in peanut,” Clint pipes in after Sam. 

“She’s not some woman I met at a bar that I’m bringing home for the night,” Bucky continues ignoring Sam and Clint’s commentary on his past relationships – well, hookups. No one can call those relationships. “Ori knows her and spends more time with Y/n than I do some weeks. She’s already spun into our lives and Ori’s heart. If things end badly or we don’t fit like everyone keeps insisting… what’s going to happen when Ori gets hurt? 

“You mean when you get hurt? Because that’s what we are talking about here, right?”

Bucky meets Sam’s eyes and then looks up at Steve standing behind them. They are all wearing the same expression, the one that says they had him all figured out and maybe they do. Perhaps he is scared, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong either. “Look, I’m doing this my way. I need to be sure before It’s too late to take it all back.” 

“I hate to tell you pal, but it’s already too late and I think you know that, Buck,” Steve is quick to point out and Sam takes this chance to jump in, “Look, take her out this weekend, and we will watch Ori. You’ve got forty-eight hours off so do whatever you do that makes chicks believe you actually have game and win her over. No more dancing around each other. Just tell her how you feel very clearly. In the plainest words possible because I’m telling you the two of you–” 

“Sam,” Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t helping.” 

“I’m just saying, they need it spelled out for them like they are in a Kindergarten class.” 

“What if she doesn’t like me like that?” Bucky grumbles halting Sam and Steve’s bickering. Sam runs a hand down his face in frustration and shakes his head, answering before Steve or Clint could,  “Christ, you are dumb. Why would she want to cuddle your ugly ass if she didn’t like you?”

Bucky has a snappy comment on the tip of his tongue, but there’s no time for snark or a shove off the back of the couch. The board is lighting up, they’ve got a call and Bucky has no time for payback. He jumps up and points at Sam, “Wait till we get back. I’ll show you who’s ugly. I’m damn adorable, and everyone knows it.” 

“Enough,” Steve orders. It’s strange how easily Steve fades away, and he slips right into Captain mode. Steve recites the address back to the team and Bucky goes still, repeating the address in his head several times. 

“Let’s get moving. Buck?” Steve murmurs, coming to a stop in front of the dazed man, “You all right? We’ve got to get going. If this is about what Sam said I need you to let it go till we handle this–” 

“No, that’s not– That’s not the right address. That’s- that’s the store. Y/n’s bookstore.” 

“Shit.”

“Steve. Ori is with Y/n today. They are at the bookstore together.” 

And, Bucky’s entire world went up in flames in a matter of seconds. 

Previous // Next��

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #SINGLE DAD AU #single dad bucky #fireman!Bucky #Firefighter AU #alternate universe #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes

[saxxxology]

Pussycat, Pussycat

Happy Halloween, Sam Winchester.

PAIRING: Sam x Native American!Reader

WORD COUNT: 1500

WARNINGS: smut, oral sex (f), rough sex, dirty talk, creampie

NOTE: Edited by me - please heed the warnings and enjoy! This story is 18+ only. Do not save or repost my work on other sites!

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Sam never really enjoyed Halloween until he met you. You made it fun, showing him how to make pumpkin pie in the bunker’s old-fashioned oven and made him fall in love with the scent of the roasting seeds mixed with cinnamon. You even decorated the tables in the bunker with little pumpkins and tissue-paper ghosts hanging from the lamps. 

On Halloween night, however, Sam discovered something new to enjoy about the holiday he used to hate. 

Dean had left for a party at a bar in town, saying that he wasn’t going to be back. At the mention of him leaving, Sam noticed you slink off to the room you shared, but thought nothing of it. When he heard the Impala roar out of the garage, he called out to you, asking what you wanted for dinner. He received no reply, so he settled down in the library with an old copy of Frankenstein and a cold beer.

He didn’t hear you padding down the hallway, your stocking-covered feet almost silent on the wood.

“Hey, baby.”

He looked up and promptly felt his cock stiffen. 

You were dressed in a black bodysuit, your nipples visible through the sheer fabric. You had fake kitten ears on, and your eyes were lined with thick black liner. You’d painted a black spot on your nose, whiskers on your cheeks, and your lips were a soft baby pink that made his mouth water.

“What…?” he swallowed thickly, “what are you doing?”

“I put on my Halloween costume, baby.” You grinned broadly and sauntered towards him. “You like it?”

Sam closed the book, setting it on the table as you stood in front of him, swaying your hips back and forth. You weren’t wearing panties, and he found it difficult to find a specific place on your body to stare at. His jeans were now painfully tight, his cock hard and throbbing in its confines. You took his hands, placing them on your thighs and guiding them up your body. When you turned around, he could see a long, silky-black tail poking out of a hole in the nylon.

Oh, shit.

“Why’re you doin’ this to me?” he asked breathlessly.

You leaned down, nuzzling along the line of his jaw. “I like surprising you, that’s all… and this is another way for you to look forward to Halloween next year.” Nipping at his earlobe, you let out a practiced purr against his ear.

Sam’s reaction was instantaneous. He grabbed your waist, lifting you up and dropping you onto the wooden table. His hands flew between your legs, shredding the sheer nylon and exposing your bare cunt for him.

“You’re such a fuckin’ tease,” he growled, “dressin’ like that… how long did you expect that to last?”

“Not that long,” you grinned, raking your fake, black-painted nails down his back. “You want my pussy, baby?”

Sam growled, making you shiver. “How could I not want it, with you lookin’ like this?” He nipped the underside of your jaw. The bite stung and made you gasp, and he trailed the tip of his tongue over the indents his teeth had left. “Hands and knees,” he directed. 

When you didn’t move fast enough, he flipped you himself, not muttering an apology as your knees knocked against the wood. You arched your back, and Sam hummed in approval as the tail fell down between your legs. He could barely see the little metal plug at the base, and when he lifted the material up, the sight was incredible.

“Good girl.” He rubbed the swell of your ass, almost like he was petting you, and you wiggled your hips, looking back at him over your shoulder. He was staring at your exposed sex like a man who hadn’t seen food in weeks, his gaze animalistic, dark and hungry.

“Taste it, baby,” you cooed, “taste my little pussy…”

Sam groaned at your words, lowering himself down into his chair and pulling it close. He was tall enough that his face was level with your pussy, and the idea of him literally sitting down to eat you out sent a shiver through you. 

Both of his large hands pressed against the sides of your thighs, holding you still as he tilted his head and slid his tongue through the lips of your cunt. You whimpered, the sound high in your throat, and Sam groaned his approval as he moved his tongue up, teasing the tip at your entrance. He dipped in, once, twice, and then pushed it down, sliding hot and wet over your clit. 

“Sweet little pussy,” he praised, pressing a kiss to your puffy lips. “Spread your legs for me, baby, lemme see how nice and ready you are.”

You obeyed, allowing your nylon-covered knees to slide apart on the table’s smooth surface. Sam growled at the sight of your puffy lips and soft, pink folds, shiny with a combination of spit and slick. “Beautiful,” he sighed, brushing a feather-light touch over your sensitive flesh, “that’s fuckin’ beautiful.”

He leaned in again, sliding his tongue down and up. His hands firmly held you in place as he feasted, teasing you with little shoves of the thick, wet muscle inside your tight channel. You whimpered, fighting the urge to push back against his face. 

“Stay still, Pussycat,” he muttered, “I’m not stopping until you cum.”

The sound of the nickname leaving his lips made you shiver and arch your back. You slid down so that your arms were stretched out in front of you, your nipples brushing against the wood through the thin material. Sam lapped at your pussy, the tip of his tongue repeatedly flicking over your clit. The wet sound of his tongue on you echoed in the library, mixed with the hungry, animalistic huffs and sounds he emitted. 

You came with a keeping moan as your thighs shook. Sam matched you with a growl that sent another wave of pleasure deep into your core, and then, with a last kiss to your pulsing cunt, he stood up. The chair legs scraped against the floor, and you could hear the jingle of his belt as he pulled it open. The hiss of his zipper followed, and then the dull thud of his jeans and boxers hitting the floor.

He tugged your lower half off the table, making sure the tips of your toes were on the floor before curling over you, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, and thrusting inside with a primal grunt. He didn't stop until his hips pressed into the cheeks of your ass. You were full of him, practically feeling him in your belly, he was so deep. He throbbed, and you wiggled your hips, begging him to move.

Spreading his feet for balance, Sam braced his hands on your back, massaging the base of your spine with his thumbs (capturing your tail under one) as he pulled back and slammed back in, earning himself a loud cry from you. He felt your walls clamp down around his cock, squeezing greedily as you tensed and trembled. 

“Arch your back for me,” he ordered, his words harsh and breathy. “There, just like that…”

You dug your nails into the tabletop as he began fucking you fast and hard. The table’s legs scraped across the floor, surely leaving scuff marks, but Sam couldn’t help himself. The slap of his bare hips on your ass was muffled slightly by the thin fabric covering your body, and Sam couldn’t help but stare at the slightly lopsided kitty ears on your head.

“Cum in me,” you whimpered, “cum in me, Sam, fill me up.”

This was going to end faster than he expected, but he couldn’t help himself. Seeing you all dressed up, with a goddamn tail poking out of your ass, was probably the best gift he’d received in all his life. 

“Yeah,” he grunted, “gonna put a load in that little belly of yours… you want it?”

“Yeah!”

“You want it?”

“Yes!” you cried out, “yes, Sam, I want it so fucking bad, c’mon, give it to me.”

Sam reached up, grabbing the back of your neck and holding you there as he gave three harsh, jolting thrusts and came hard enough to make his legs shake. He could feel you sucking around him, taking his seed deep into your womb. He pulled out with a sigh and watched thick ropes of cum dribble down the insides of your thighs, wrecking your costume. 

“Shit, that’s pretty,” he growled, watching you shakily straighten up and fix your headband. “That fucking tail, Y/N, Jesus Christ.”

You giggled, watching him pull his boxers and jeans back up over his hips. “You like it?”

“I like it even more now,” he growled, looping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, “think I’m gonna call you Pussycat from now on.”

You laughed as he stooped to bite your jaw. “I don’t mind. As long as I get to say you’ve got Pussycat Fever, we can play ‘Doctor.’”

Sam rolled his eyes and lifted you off the ground, cradling you bridal style in his arms as he carried you down the hall to your bedroom. “Don’t tell me you have a sexy nurse costume, too.”

You winked before nipping at his jaw. “I’ll break that one out next year.”

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#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester

[nikryderr]

daybreak (rod)

a/n: i am very... meh about this one, but when i heard that RODAW was happening, i had to throw something up for my favorite boy. it’s written in the second person because... i just vibed with it???? LMAO idk. as always, your comments / likes / reblogs are very much appreciated. i apologize for any typos in advance, i think i wrote this in like 4-5 hours so it is a very raw draft. i might go back and edit it at some point, but for now, please enjoy! 

pairings: Colt x MC angst

summary: So much for wanting to die, for choking yourself with smoke and willpower and here he is, doing it all by himself, five-and-a-half feet away.

rating: PG-13

content warning: cancer, infidelity.

length: 2172 words

tags: i am constantly amazed at the amount of quality content that comes out related to ROD. i’ve fallen out of the choices fandom but ROD still holds a special place in my heart and i’m so excited that it’s the same for a lot of other people as well! @rodappreciationweek ! 

All great love stories begin with a once upon a time, but you think that yours must have begun with an and they lived happily ever after, because with him, you are always drowning in a sea of now, now, now that exists only in a dream.

You smoke cigarettes now. It’s something of a habit, picked up in college after drunken nights out in the dead of a winter, desperate for the quick pinch of sobriety and a flicker of warmth — even now, you remember how much the smoke and tar had made you cough. Now, the nicotine, it tastes sweet on your lips.

You wonder when you’d become so jaded.

Even jarring images of blackened lungs can’t scare you now, not when you'd seen with your soul the images of your own heart, bloodied and bruised to shit. Not when you've seen her father waste away in that bed, antiseptic stinging your nose, your eyes. A year after he’d retired. There’d been plans, big ones for him to buy a home up near Olympia, fix it up himself. He’d bought tickets to Italy. You’d always thought he’d go out in a bang, a furious firework in the sky commemorating his heroism. None of seeing him die in that damned hospital was heroic.

You bring the cigarette up to your lips and inhale, holding your breath. Her gaze focuses on the skyline ahead, gripping the rust-streaked railing in front, the Hudson reflecting ink black, save for the moon’s milky touch rippling ribbons of white on the water. Only when you feel your chest constrict and vision blur that you open your mouth and let the cancer flow out. Hunched over the barrier, you begins coughing and fuck, does it feel good. It’s like being eighteen again, taking that first puff of that cigarette, feeling the smoke’s heat sear your throat in a line of fire.

“You all right?”

You glance up. You already has a bitter retort locked and loaded, about how you’s fucking goddamn fine, that you doesn’t need his help, that there’s pepper spray in your purse that you wouldn’t hesitate using and —

( “Ellie?” )

And your breath stops.

So much for wanting to die, for choking yourself with smoke and willpower and here he is, doing it all by himself, five-and-a-half feet away. You drop the cigarette, three-quarters done, and it’s no wonder that you are breathless because you drowns in him once again, like something familiar creeping up your airways, a release .

“Colt.” You take a step forward, hesitant. You watch his face, in as much disbelief as yours. He’s wearing the same jacket from all those years ago, and you want to laugh, to straighten the lapels and plant a kiss on his cheek and then cry from the youer impossibility of seeing him again, but seven years is too much time. You scrape the toe of your boot against the cobblestone, never daring to look at his face. “How - how are you?”

“I’m good. Didn’t know you were in New York.”

“I am.” You pause, wondering if you should say any more. “I work - I work at a publishing company. I edit books.”

“That’s cool. Good for you, El.”

A pause enters the conversation. For a moment, all you can hear are the distant hum of cars, the white noise of city life. And all you want to do is cry, but not for the same reasons as before, but how stilted their conversations are, how much you do not say that you wanted to for the longest time. Like, I’m sorry, I wish I’d stayed, I wish I hadn’t thrown you out. Like, I’ve missed you, you complete me, I love you.

“Are you in New York too?”

“Nah. Just here to visit my girlfriend’s parents. They live up in Queens.”

Oh.

You want to ask. You want to know her name, her job, what she’s like. You want to know whether the girlfriend has met his mother, whether she knows about his father and Ximena and Toby and Logan, whether she knows about you. In bitterness, you’re reminded of your own boyfriend, the one you’d fought with earlier over a carton of milk — and then it dawns on you that there is a space of seven years that you have been gone, torn from Colt’s life that you don’t know about, and you swallow. The pause is no longer a pause, but a thick hesitation sitting in between you and him, and you struggle to breathe against his presence.

“Listen, Ellie —”

“No. It’s fine — it’s fine, I mean, it’s been seven years, right? You’re allowed to have a girlfriend and a life, and I have a life now, and we’re all fine, really —”

“Hey! Christ, slow down; I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go for a walk. My girlfriend, she’s out with some friends and I was just killing some time anyways.”

You know you shouldn’t. That the time away had been her time to heal, to process their goodbye from all those years ago, and yet — you’ve never been good at holding him at an arm’s distance, even when he’d been three thousand miles away.

So you say yes.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

You’re positive that this is all a fever dream, that there’s no way that Colt is beside you, that you’re laughing with him again, that it’s always when you least expect it that you’re thrown back into the waters again, unsure of where it’d started, and yet, not caring in the slightest.

The stars, you’ve never noticed them in the city. Not with all the light pollution circling high above the clouds, but with him, you’re positive that the stars shine for him, bouncing off the tips of his cheekbones, the tip of his nose. Two in the morning and you’ve never felt held more than this exact moment, not in so long. You don’t know if it’s the warmth of the alcohol or the orbit of his presence, but you're rosy-cheeked, desperate to find his physical touch next.

Leave it to him to jolt you out of your fantasy.

“How’s that boyfriend of yours, huh?”

You swallow. The 40s you’ve both bought in a dingy corner store like nineteen-year olds with fake IDs lie in the paper bags at their feet and the magnified haze of reality swings at your head. Drunk, and yet, too aware of your drunkenness, you squint at him, challenging him with a brashness only marked by the alcohol.

“What’s it to you, anyways?” Cross, you pick up the bottle, taking a swig of the drink.

Colt shrugs. “Curious. I’ve seen your pics with him.”

“You’ve been stalking me,” you reply, smirking.

Shaking his head, he chuckles. “And you can never answer the questions without being a smart-ass, can you?”

“It’s none of your business.” You pull your knees closer, hugging your legs to your chest. “Anyways, you haven’t said a word about your mystery girlfriend,” you challenge. It’s not like you want to hear about her, but the prospect of telling Colt all about your significant other brings a rock to your stomach.

You meet his eyes. Dark, stormy, you think you see a phantom of a frown, emotion betraying his usual aloof demeanor. But as soon as it crosses his face, it flies off into the distance, and he shrugs. “You always do this, Ellie — act like that I’m out to get you, comment on your life choices —”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I the one that couldn’t handle my fucking anger whenever things didn’t go right, because if I remember correctly, that was you.” You bolt up, an accusatory finger thrown his way, and he matches your movement, drenched in passion.

“You’re going to bring that up? Because if we’re going to rehash our goddamn relationship right here, I’d be happy to list all of the things you did that were fucking frustrating to deal with.”

“Oh my gosh, yes. Please do that, I’m begging you,” she snaps back, sarcastic. Hesitating, you turn back to him, fire burning in your eyes. “Actually. Let’s do it. Say it. I dare you. Because if I remember correctly, it was me that left. Not you.”

Silence blankets the two of you, and his face hardens back up, body returning to the slack swagger he’d always carried so easily in his chest. Shoving his hands back into his pockets, he crouches back down, eyes aimed towards the water. “Whatever,” he snorts, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

He’d always been so nonchalant. Still is, and it’s what you’ve loved about him, the way he could tell you so much more with his eyes than his words. You’d loved Logan too, but he’d always been brash, the brushstrokes of his love painted in broad, simple marks. And yet Colt — the intricacies of his emotions have always been a puzzle that you’d been adamant to unscramble. How the flicker in the corners of his eyelids could mean that he’s upset, or the twitch in the corner of his mouth, deepening a shred of a dimple gave away his happiness. Even now, the ghosts of those imprints remain etched onto his face, and you can tell he longs for something more, a what if still lingering on their tongues.

And like always, you fall into his lips.

It’s a mistake.

And yet — a glorious, beautiful, irrevocable mistake, even more when you feel his lips press against yours. He’s missed me too, you think, and you wonder why he is the only person that has only made you feel like the world is yours. You are drunk, sitting on concrete by the muddy river and yet you want to savor the moment forever, inscribe it into your skin as a tattoo.

When you part, your teeth taste like sin and your hands are drenched in the blood of your guilt, but you’d risk it all to do it again.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

One more joy ride on his Cavalieri Novanta, you understand why you loved ( love ) him. Freedom has always come at a price for you, perpetually out of your reach but with him? He makes it easy to be in freefall, and as your hands wrap around his waist, you’re not afraid to hit the ground.

Coney Island is a hellmouth, but at 4AM, the silence is cathartic. You’ve never been to the beach without the buzz of crowds closing in on you, and yet, there is something distinctly wistful about the abandoned park. Still, quiet, with only the creak of the boards underneath your feet, the ocean is there, and yet — you only see Colt. If the Pacific had been an expanse of hope and new horizons, you think that the Atlantic is a deluge of melancholy. There is no room for your sorrows when you’ve finally been let out of your self-inflicted cage. He finds a place in the sand, and you follow along, head on his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t have kissed me.” And yet, his lips are in your hair, whispering. You think you feel him trace an I still love you with his lips, but you can’t be sure.

“I was drunk.” You still are. You can’t think straight. When you’re with him, all you see is him.

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“Since when have you cared about whether something’s right or not?” It shocks you to the core, more than you expect. It’s not him. This is not the Colt you know.

“You don’t want this. You don’t want me.”

“What - no. Of course I want you. I want you, Colt Kaneko.” You know you do. You’d leave everything behind, run far away with him until your feet bled. Frantic, you find his face, search for that shred of longing you’d become so familiarized with. You don’t find it. “Run away with me. You don’t - we can go back. We can go back.” Desperately, you think that if you say it enough, you could make it a truth.

“You know, Ellie.” Colt swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing in his neck. For once, you cannot read the emotion in his face, and it terrifies you. Seven years is too much time lost, and you think about all of the things you’ve missed.

You do know. Leaving him once, you know. That your longing and love for him has always relied on being apart, that two burning hot fires only created a larger fire that threatened to ruin everything else in its path.

“We would’ve burned each other up, El.” He’s closer now, only a breath away. A finger on your cheek, your hand snakes up and holds his hand, memorizing his touch. His thumb swipes away a tear that you didn’t even know had fallen.

He leans in this time.

A first kiss against the Californian sunset, the last rolled into a New York sunrise, you wonder if you’ll ever look at daybreak the same way again.

#playchoices #rodaw #playchoices fanfic #ride or die

[isitgintimeyet]

Road To The Aisles

AO3

Previous

Chapter 12 and thanks to you all for continuing to read, like, reblog and comment. It is much appreciated.

Special thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge @happytoobserve @wickedgoodbooks for their continued support.

Chapter 12 : An Unexpected Exchange

“It’s pointless for a human to paint scenes of nature when they can go outside and stand in it.”

-Ron Swanson, Parks and Recreation

Claire sat at her desk and eyed her tuna sandwich with distaste. While she had magnanimously agreed last night to let Jamie take dinner leftovers -- a very tasty chilli and rice -- for his office lunch today, she had been hoping that he might have somehow forgotten and made his way to the gym and then work without it, leaving her to claim it (rather than it go to waste). When it was clear that hadn’t happened, she had been forced to hastily make the aforementioned sandwich.

There was a light tap at the office door. A grinning head poked around the door, immediately distracting Claire from her dietary woes.

“G, how you doing? Come and talk to me,” Claire exclaimed.

Geillis strolled into the office and pulled up a chair. She looked longingly at Claire’s sandwich.

“Christ, I’m fucking starving. And I’ve only a banana fer ma lunch.”

Claire pushed the untouched sandwich towards her friend. “There you go. Have that. Now, tell me all your news.”

Geillis took a large bite of the sandwich and munched for a few moments before taking a swig out of Claire’s now cold coffee mug and clearing her throat.

“It’s been a fucker of a morning in the emergency department. We had a chap come in, wouldna talk tae the receptionist or a female nurse. Finally agreed tae talk tae Big Steve, ye ken the guy? The nurse practitioner that does the body building? Weel, turns out he’s come in wi’ a can of body spray wedged up his arse, he couldna get it out. Apparently he’d tried wi’ some kitchen tongs, only shoved it further up.”

“He said…” Geillis took a smaller bite and carried on talking. “He said that he’d slipped getting out of the shower and fell on tae it. Imagine that? And we’re there tryin’ tae be serious while he’s spinnin’ us this yarn. So he goes off tae X-Ray and we’re all placing bets on what scent it is.”

“Is he ok?”

“Turns out it wasna lodged too far up, so Dr. Chris was able tae get it out wi’ no operation needed. And then this chap actually asked if he could have the spray back, as it’s his favourite. Dr. Chris told him it was now classed as clinical waste and would therefore have tae be disposed of ‘in an appropriate manner.’”

Geillis finished her sandwich and looked around for a napkin. Claire passed her a tissue.

“And what scent was it?” Claire prompted, laughing.

“Lynx… Africa. I guessed it. Lucky fer him it was only the smaller size… I mean, the girth on those larger sprays… imagine… no’ even Dougal would --”

“And how is Dougal?” Claire hastily changed the subject. “I know it’s ok from your texts, but what did he say about the whole baby thing?”

“Weel… after all that worryin’ and mitherin’ I put meself through, Dougal was verra understanding about it. I told him straight that I dinna want a baby at the moment, and would likely never want one. So it was his choice… me and no bairn, or no me. And he did the sensible thing… he chose me. The door’s left open, but…”

“And why wouldn’t he? He’d be a fool to give you up.”

“Aye, I ken. I tell him regular that he’s lucky tae have me.”

Geillis delved into her voluminous handbag and retrieved a banana, brandishing it aloft.

“Fancy half a banana? Tae eat? I tell ye… what I’ve seen today… it’s oral consumption only with bananas from now on fer me.”

Claire tentatively took half from Geillis, a worried expression on her face.

“Dinna fash,” Geillis sighed. “I bought it this morning. It’s a virgin banana. I do have some standards, ye ken.”

*************

Jamie and Claire strolled through the park, enjoying the warmth of the summer sun. It was a perfect day, with not a cloud in the sky and only a slight breeze rustling through the trees.

“Do ye think I’ve put enough sun cream on William, Sassenach ? I dinna want him to burn.”

Claire looked over at William, clad in a bright blue romper suit and matching baseball cap and strapped securely onto Jamie’s chest. She could still faintly see the layer of sun cream meticulously applied by Jamie before they came out.

“Think you’ve put enough on for a trip to the equator,” she joked.

“Aye, weel, ye canna be too careful. Shall we head tae the river and look fer some duckies then, ma wee man?”

Jamie took the loud raspberry from William as agreement. He held Claire’s hand as they wandered alongside the river, their companionable silence only broken by William’s excited babbling.

After a somewhat disinterested encounter with the ducks, they settled themselves on a riverside bench to watch the world go by. William tried to bounce, pressing his feet firmly against Jamie’s thighs, eliciting an ‘aargh’ sound from his father.

Claire laughed as she gazed at her two men. She held William’s dimpled hand to her mouth and kissed it.

“He’s laughing at you, Jamie, when you make that sound.”

“Aargh… aargh…” Jamie repeated his exclamation to William’s increasing delight, his chuckles growing louder and louder and joining the laughter from his father and Claire.

“Ah, Claire. I’d recognise those curls anywhere. Your hair is very distinctive, you know,” a voice spoke suddenly, cutting into the moment.

She stopped laughing as she stood up and turned around, patting her hair. Instinctively Jamie stood as well and turned to face the voice.

“Frank… wow, what a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought… have you… are you still down in England?”

“Er, yes. I’m just up here for the weekend. Conference, you know. Just on my way to the gallery, see the exhibitions. You’re looking well, Claire.”

Frank smiled at her, oblivious to the palpable tension radiating from Jamie.

"Thanks," Claire responded politely. "Frank, this is my fiancé, Jamie. Jamie, this is Frank… an old friend."

Jamie extended his hand and enveloped Frank's long, elegant fingers in a bone crushing handshake.

“Pleased tae meet ye.” Jamie’s words were at odds with the look on his face.

Frank raised an eyebrow. “Engaged? Well, congratulations to you both… and a baby? Life has changed very quickly for you, Claire. So, are you at work, or maternity leave?”

Claire looked at William who, lacking entertainment, was simultaneously sucking his thumb whilst trying to pull his cap off.

“Actually, William is my step-son. He’s Jamie’s son.”

“Oh, I see.” Frank’s statement hung in the air.

“We’re getting married in just over three months’ time.” Claire suddenly felt defensive as she remembered Frank’s judgemental nature.

William, having succeeded in pulling his cap off and dropping it, now let out a cry as Claire picked it up and secured it firmly back on his head. The cry was followed by a series of sobs becoming louder and louder.

“I think he needs a nap.” Claire explained over the crying. “We should be heading home. Well, all the best, Frank.”

Frank leant forward and lightly kissed Claire on both cheeks. “Congratulations to you both.”

“Bye then.” Jamie nodded and took Claire’s hand as they started walking away.

The journey home was made in silence, William dozing fitfully in his car seat. Once at the house, Jamie, still silent, took William upstairs and put him down in his cot. Claire pottered in the kitchen, putting the kettle to boil, pulling the cafetière out of the cupboard, opening the cake tin. When she heard Jamie’s steps coming downstairs, she made the coffee and cut two slices of banana loaf. Each action precise, deliberate and calm, which was exactly what she wasn’t feeling.

“Jamie, come and sit down.” She placed a mug of coffee and slice of banana loaf in front of him as he slumped at the kitchen table.

“Right, so, what is the matter with you? You’ve had a face like a slapped arse ever since we bumped into Frank in the park. It’s to do with him, isn’t it? And don’t try to tell me nothing is the matter. Sulking is not a good look on a thirty-three year old man, you know.”

Jamie was quiet for a moment, fiddling randomly with the baby monitor. Finally, he placed the monitor on the kitchen table, took a large gulp of coffee, screwing up his face as the hot liquid hit his mouth, and sighed.

“Aye, ye’re right. ‘Twas partly yer man. When ye said William was yer ‘step-son’, I could see Frank, I ken what he was thinking. He was looking at me, judging me, thinking I was some serial shagger hopping from bed tae bed… mebbe even wondering if I’d be faithful tae ye.”

Claire came and sat at the kitchen table with Jamie.

“First of all,  what does it matter what Frank's opinion of us is? He’s not part of our lives. And if we’re talking about serial shaggers, I could tell you a thing or two about him. So what if he wonders about you being unfaithful? No one we know or care about would ever think that.”

“Second of all,” Claire tapped the kitchen table with her forefinger emphasising her points. “Are you unhappy because I said William was my step-son? You didn’t want me to lie, did you? Let him think I was William’s birth mother?”

Jamie lifted his eyes from his mug of coffee to look at Claire, his cheeks reddening slightly. “No’ lie as such, but ye dinna have tae say anything.”

“To make you feel better, to not be judged by Frank? What does that even matter? Or did you want to prove a point to Frank?”

“Ye dinna understand. It’s no’ jes’ tae do wi’ Frank… it’s like… when we’re in the park or some such place, and I see all the families around us, playing and laughing, I like to think, or pretend, that there is nae Geneva, nae leaving ma son fer half the week. I dinna like tae be reminded. I like tae think that we’re a family jes’ like those around us.”

Claire pulled her chair closer to Jamie and reached across to stroke his auburn curls. He inclined his head and closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her nails, now lightly scratching his scalp.

“You are a silly, silly man. We are a family just like those around us at the park… there’ll be every variation of family there… half siblings, step-parents, step-children, single parents, adopted children, fostered, raised by grandparents. And you know what, when it comes down to it, it’s all family. And that’s what matters.”

“Aye, I may be a silly man, but I ken that ye, Claire Beauchamp soon tae be Fraser, are a fine woman that I’m no’ sure that I deserve.”

“Well, I’m not sure either that you deserve me, but…” she replied as she moved to stand between his legs. “... you can try.”

Jamie’s hands settled on her arse as Claire bent her head to kiss him. As the kiss deepened, her hands snaked around the back of his neck, pulling him tighter to her.

The sudden cry from the baby monitor broke them apart.

“He’s no’ got the best timing,” Jamie laughed. “Guess he doesna want his old man having fun.”

Claire breathed in his ear. “Later.”

“Later,” Jamie agreed.

#outlander fan fiction #outlander fanfic #Road To The Aisles #modern au #Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #chapter 12

[cilliansaccent]

Class of Temptation - CHAPTER TEN

Leave a like, reblog or comment below to show your support and love! Enjoy…

PLEASE READ:

No mention of Cillian’s true family or relatives. All names are made up.

This is a TEACHER x STUDENT fanfiction, it’s going to be kinky and very taboo!

I will write whenever the mood grabs me, so I apologise if there are long breaks between chapters :)

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Background: Tessa is a twenty-three-year-old model from a broken-up family, living in London with her best friend and starting a course on Drama and Theatre. Though, when she gets closer to the super hot Mr Murphy who is her much older teacher, there is a battle of lust and love between them. They’ll have to figure out what to do with their tight relationship as other issues begin to rise and nip at their heels…

Word Count: 5,452

!!Warnings!!: Major sex scene at the end!

Chapter Name: Princess

Brief Chapter Outline: A new week starts and Tessa spends another afternoon with Cillian, her feelings wild for the man as she realises that this won’t go away. The day ends with Elijah and some very passionate exchange...

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Tessa walked up to her Uni after she had driven here. It was a first after a long time that she got to drive, Esther had to use her car most of the time when she had to travel around London and outside of it. Which was fine, but when it was raining, Tessa didn't like to walk from the station to her class. She always got drenched.

She shook her umbrella before tucking it into its sleeve and putting it back into her bag. She had half an hour to get to class but she didn't want to go in first. Not after what happened yesterday with Cillian... Fuck, she had a night. She really couldn't get him out of her mind. All she could think was of him, his hands roaming along her body, his hips parting her legs to make room and a single thrust into her which she knew would make her back arch...

"Fuck! Watch where you are going!" Sofia yelled as she dropped her books on the floor.

"You are so stupid! What the fuck!" Camila, Sofia's second in command, shoved Tessa against the wall.

"Sorry!" Tessa let out a gasp as her back came into contact with the hard wall.

"Sorry isn't enough, bitch." Victoria chimed in, Luna and Layla circled in.

"Whatever, I gotta go." Tessa tried to shove through but she was pushed back.

"Not so fast. You need to fucking pay up, whore." Sofia was all up in her face. "How much you carrying, huh? Let's see." Sofia went to reach for Tessa's bag to take her wallet but Tessa was not having it.

She shoved her hand away, "Fuck off. I am not giving you my money anymore."

"Oh? You getting all tough now, huh?" Sofia moved closer, almost chest to chest.

"Yeah. I've had enough of this shit. I don't even know why you need money, it's clear you got enough. So move the fuck away so I can go." Tessa went to shove her but she was pushed back again.

She let out a gasp again, the force was harsh and she felt a painful sting in her shoulders, "You have no right to talk to me like that." Sofia grabbed her by the hair, yanking her back.

The worst thing was in this part of the hallway, no one really came by. It had very small, private rooms students would rent out and at this early hour, no one was here. Fuck.

"You are nothing here. Just another whore. You don't own anything." Sofia snarled as she yanked Tessa's bag and gave it to Camila who riffled through it.

Tessa hated that word. Whore. It made her angry and she pushed Sofia back by using her hands against her face, "Get the fuck off me! Jesus Christ!" She struggled as the hold in her hair only tightened.

"You can't tell me what to do bitch! Hold her down!" Sofia had let her go as Camila and Victoria grabbed Tessa's arms and held her back.

"You are so gonna pay," Sofia balled up her fist and made to-

"HEY! What the fuck is going on?!" Elijah's angry growl cut through the group and the girls jumped back.

"Oh get lost, Elijah. We're only teaching your little toy here a lesson." Sofia rolled her eyes as he came over.

"Fuck out of here, you really are such a bitch." He grabbed Tessa's bag, staring down at the brown-haired woman.

"Whatever. I'd recommend not being with this slut. God knows what she's been up to all week in that hotel room with all those other people." Sofia scoffed as the girls walked away leaving them be.

Tessa was shaken up, hugging herself as she leaned against the wall. Her eyes were wide as tears streamed down her face.

"Jesus." Elijah set her bag down and gently cupped her face, "Tess. Hey, look at me." He said with a gentle voice, bringing her pretty eyes upwards. "Let's go and report them for this. This is not right."

"No, Elijah. I don't want to." She shook her head, wiping her tears quickly.

"Why not? They are literally tormenting you." He frowned, shocked to hear that.

"Just- No. I can deal with this. Please." She picked up her bag and the other cotton one that had the clothes Cillian had offered to her.

Elijah's shoulders sagged, but he sighed, "Fine. Fine." His hands were on her shoulders before he pulled her in for a hug.

Tessa welcomed the hug and wrapped her arms around him, his strong body enveloping hers. She was warm, "I know you want to help, Elijah. But I want to do this on my own."

"But she was going to hit you, I can't allow that to slide." Elijah murmured.

She glanced up, "Let it slide. I will deal with this." She said with a stern voice, giving him a look to make it as she meant it.

His lips were a thin line, "Okay. I trust you." He said but he would make sure to keep an eye out for her. "Can I ask you something?"

She nodded as they began to walk together, "Go ahead."

"Could we go out tonight? Like dinner?" He asked her.

"Dinner?" She raised her brows as she looked up at the handsome man.

"Yeah. I could pick you up at seven?" He looked hopeful.

She laughed lightly, "Okay. Sure. Seven it is. May I know where it is?"

He grinned, "Nope. It's a secret." He said.

She rolled her eyes, "Okay. I'll be ready by then."

"Sweet. I best let you go then. Meet up for lunch too?"

Tessa thought for a moment, "Yeah. Come back here and we can go together." She said before she leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Elijah." She smiled sweetly and ducked into her classroom, leaving him blushing red.

Julian was not in class for a change, usually, he was here before anyone else.

Cillian was here though, seated behind his desk. He glanced up and smiled at Tessa, "Morning, Tess."

"Morning. Here you go." She had come over and handed him the bag.

"What is it?" He took it, peering in.

"The clothes you gave me. I washed them up. Also here." She handed him the handkerchief he had given to her a couple of weeks back. Sofia and her squad had walked in as well and seemed to notice the interaction.

"Oh, thank you. You didn't need to go to such lengths but I appreciate that." Cillian smiled as he took the cloth from her hand.

"You can also keep the bag too," Tessa returned the smile, "I've got plenty." She said.

"Alright. Thanks again." He nodded once.

She turned and went to sit down, pulling out her stuff and organising herself for the day. Class started soon after and Julian still had not made an appearance. Only thirty minutes before class ended he came but seemed quite troubled.

"You okay?" Tessa asked when it came to working with a group partner, she made sure they were good.

"I'm fine." Julian gave a curt reply and began to work on the given questions.

Tessa knew she wasn't going to get through to him so she let it go. But as she looked over at the snakes sitting across from her, they were snickering and looking over at them.

Something must have happened again and she wasn't there to stop it. She cursed silently and looked back at her best friend, "Julian. I want you to know I am here for you, okay? I don't want you to be silent and let whatever eat at you. You know it's no good and you are really hurting-"

It was like a switch had been flicked and Julian turned to her with such anger she was shocked, "Just shut up! I don't need anything from you!"

Cillian looked up from the folder he was looking at, his glasses sat on his nose, "Julian. What is the matter?"

"Nothing! Oh my god. Just- I want to work. Please." He kept his head down, shaking it.

Tessa frowned. She had no idea what just happened, she hadn't even pestered him about anything either.

"Well, it's not nice to talk to Tessa like that. She is only trying to help." Cillian had heard Tessa talk softly to the boy and was surprised the anger Julian had shown her for something so simple.

"Yeah, bit late now. She wasn't even here for a whole week to fucking help me." Julian snapped.

"Excuse me, do not swear in this class, Julian. Apologise to Tessa." Cillian said.

"Oh, no it's fine. He doesn't-"

"Julian," Cillian cut of Tessa, "Apologise."

Julian grounded his teeth and looked at her, his eyes held so much hurt and pain, "Sorry." He said without meaning it. He then got up and packed up his stuff.

"Where are you going? Class has not finished." Cillian said, his brows furrowed and annoyance shone in his eyes.

"Home," Julian said.

"We have half an hour to go, you can wait." Cillian's harsh tone only made Julian angrier.

"Yeah. Whatever. Too long for me." He grabbed his backpack and headed out.

"Julian!" Cillian called out as he stood to go stop him but he was already out of the door. He sighed and looked over at Tessa. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." She nodded, settling back in her chair. Sofia and her girls snickered softly to each other as if they knew this was coming.

Tess watched them whisper and laugh, they must've done something to him. Fuck, she thought with dread. She had to talk to him one way or another. Maybe she should tell Cillian. She debated it till the class ended and everyone filed out.

"Is everything okay with you and Julian?" Cillian had come over, his work bag slung over his shoulder.

"I... Think so. I don't... Really know why he acted like that, really." She stood up, lifting her bag.

"Huh, I see. He did seem quite strung up last week as well. I'll have to talk to him." He said.

"Leave it to me. I can get through to him, might make it easier for him as well." Tessa quickly said, wanting to find out herself and see whether Julian wanted a teacher involved.

"You sure? I don't want any issues to hinder your studies or your project with him." Cillian gestured for her to follow him out of the classroom.

"I'm sure. I promise you I will come to you if there are any issues." Once out of the classroom, the bitches were hanging around a little further down the hallway and watched them.

"Okay. I trust you with that. Now, I could not book a room for us today in the afternoon so we will head into my office. Is that okay?" He asked.

She liked how he always asked her first if she was okay with doing anything with him during these private lessons. It made her feel safer, "Of course. Fine by me."

"Alright." He reminded her of the building number and the level and told her to ring him on the phone in the foyer. He left and soon after Elijah came around with a wonderful grin.

"Hey, pretty lady." He winked and hugged her.

"Hi," she laughed softly, "I'm hungry. Let's go." She bumped her hip to his.

"You're always hungry." He rolled his eyes.

"Indeed. I am a growing girl, and growing girls need plenty of food!" Tessa said. Elijah was someone she had not expected to warm up so fast, he had a wonderful personality and was cool with whatever she was doing. He always made sure to find time for her even if it was only for an hour or less. Though she could not find herself telling Elijah about her issues behind closed doors, those things were... A sensitive topic for her and she wasn't sure if she would ever be able to talk about them.

Tessa had tried therapy at one point, but it became way too stressful for her and she found herself almost falling back into that dark pit. It would take a hell of a lot to overcome her past and the shit she had to go through when she lived with her dumbass father and that witch of a woman. Especially with those sons...

That was something she did not want to think about right now. She would enjoy her lunch with Elijah, make her way to the library and do some work before meeting up with Cillian later today.

Yeah. She would enjoy her time now, no need to dwell on the past. A waste of her time.

It was now late afternoon and Tessa was heading to the building Cillian had his office in, headed up the elevator and called him up through the phone provided in the closed-off foyer. She waited for a few minutes when he came through the doors with a wonderful smile.

"Hey, Tess. Good to see you, come on." He waved her over and she followed him.

She glanced around, taking in the space and walls, hearing the chatter of other teachers talking to each other or on phones.

Cillian brought her into the office and shut the door behind him. The room was fairly large but clean and tidy, shelving lined the walls on either side of the desk, packed with folders and boxes and a couple of books. His desk was big and covered in papers all neatly stacked. His laptop was open and music was playing through it.

"Take a seat. Let me just move some things around." He said as he began to pack away the stacked files into drawers as Tessa sat down in the chair.

She stayed silent the whole time as she pulled out her laptop and held it on her lap and watched him but at the same time didn't. More like glance quickly as he moved around. She couldn't help it though. He looked absolutely adorable in his glasses, mumbling softly to himself once the desk was cleared.

"There we go. I'll sit next to you." He said as he pulled out what looked like notes and turned his laptop around for her to see. He brought up last week's stuff and got right to it. They managed to do a day and a half worth of work in the two hours they spent together. Tessa worked hard to keep up and type away her notes and any extra's he told her.

"Hey, you managed to talk to Julian?" Cillian asked once they were done and he was packing up his stuff as well as she was too.

"Uh, no. He hasn't responded to my texts. Might try and talk to him tomorrow if he shows up." Tessa said as she pulled on her coat. She watched how he did the same, he was fixing the lapels of his coat and smoothing it out. But he hadn't fixed his collar and it was bothering her.

"Huh, okay. Well, I hope he does come. Tomorrow's lesson is- what are you doing?" He cocked an eyebrow as she had come closer, those delicate fingers reaching up and behind his neck. He felt her fix the collar, the soft tips and the gentle scrape of her nails against his neck made his skin rise in gooseflesh.

"Collar wasn't folded right." She said. Her cheeks warmed a little, the sudden courage to fix his coat was something that had suddenly come out of her. Totally not because she wanted to be close to him. Definitely not because of that reason.

"Oh, alright. Thanks." He said without an ounce of judgment or awkwardness. Cillian took it as it was. Her hands slid down his shoulders before she stepped back with a smile. God that smile made her wonderfully beautiful. Fuck, what the hell.

"Now you look better. Gotta check yourself more thoroughly." She nodded as she slung her back over her shoulder.

He smiled as they walked out of his office together, "I know. But why should I when I got you." He teased.

She scoffed, "I am not your maid." She rolled her eyes.

"Just a friend looking out for me, then," Cillian said as they entered the elevator.

"Friend?" She blinked, looking up at him.

"Yeah. I consider all my students as friends and I'd like to make sure they know that. And that they can come to me for any issues they have. Friends do that." He said with sincerity.

Her heart fluttered and she looked away quickly, her emotions suddenly rolling through her. Glee, hope, desire and excitement. She could tell he was genuine about his words and his motives, he had always been like that since the first week.

"I understand I could be overstepping the line, but I really want you especially to know I will not... Hurt you or do anything you do not like. You may talk to me about whatever that concerns you, may it be big or small." His hand came to rest on her forearm, his thumb moving up and down.

The touch made her stomach flip and fill with butterflies and she slowly turned to him, her eyes moving up his body to hold his gaze. She was sort of surprised by what she saw in them; longing. Everything about this seemed so... Wrong and yet she was so willing to go with it and push those thoughts aside. Step over that boundary and say fuck it.

Tessa hadn't realised she had stepped closer to him until the elevator doors slid open and she jumped back and they both cleared their throats.

"Thank you for today. I will see you tomorrow." She said quickly and darted out of the metal cabin and headed to her car before Cillian could reply to her.

He watched her scurry off and wondered what had just happened in the elevator. He licked his lips and looked around as if he had walked into something foreign. First, he was simply reminding Tessa that he was there for her and then... She had stepped closer. He could still remember that sweet perfume she had on, it seemed like fuel for his soul, her gaze that seemed to take him under a spell... Fuck, thoughts wandered into his brain and he cursed again. This was so not right and yet, he couldn't fucking get her out of his head. "Fuck me." He muttered as he stalked to his car, catching her driving off.

Tessa was like a train at full speed, rolling down the tracks without a care in the world. She was flushed all over, her breasts aching and tight and her core like fire. She needed pleasure, and she wanted it from one person only.

Her goddamn teacher.

She had thought these feelings were just fleeting, something that would pass eventually and she would be fine. But it seemed these quiet feelings were only growing more and more the longer she stared at him. She shook her head, trying to rid them.

Tonight she would see Elijah. And enjoy her night with the guy who had taken in such interest in her.

Nighttime...

Dinner had gone swell with Elijah. He had picked out a good place to eat, a nice pub in the middle of London. She ordered Fish and Chips as it was her go-to thing when it came to pubs here, she loved the dish. They chatted about new music that was coming out and had organised to go to a gig this coming weekend. He would bring some of his own mates to and she would bring Esther if she could come.

But she couldn't stop staring at him. Elijah had kept his hair natural and simply combed back the long strands out of his face. He had a light scruff along those sharp cheeks and jaw. He wore tight skinny black jeans and a turtle neck jumper the colour of chocolate.

"What?" He laughed as he took a swig of his beer which was his second... Or third. Who knows.

"Nothin'." She huffed, taking a sip of her third red wine. She had worn a black jumper that was tight on her with a leather black skirt and polka-dot stockings and pointed toe heels. The only splash of colour she had was the bright blue bag which had a floral design of multi-coloured flowers.

"Yeah, sure. You looking at me as if I am like, dessert." He mused, leaning forward on those powerful arms.

She snorted, "Mm, well, you might be since you look like that." She admitted alcoholic drinks tend to make her a little more confident in flirting than sober.

"Oh yeah? I look that good you wanna eat me?" Elijah's hand slid over the table and over hers. His skin was warm and soft as he turned her palm, his fingers tracing her wrist and down into her palm.

She glanced down, the tingling sensation of his touch moving up her arm, "I'd be a cannibal but I don't care." She said lowly, holding his gaze.

"Mm, I know I taste good. Look at me, I am a perfectly cooked chicken nugget." Elijah said with no shame whatsoever. And sort of killing the mood.

But Tessa let out a bark of a laugh from his words, clutching his hand, "You're so stupid, you know that?" She was still giggling.

He laughed with her, finding her laugh sweet, "Oh yeah I am. And a hopeless flirt. I cannot do the whole serious thing without ruining it."

"Oh, you didn't ruin it really. I just didn't expect it." She shook her head, her smile grand.

Elijah scooted over to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "I didn't?" He asked, his head bowed to her.

"No, you didn't. I promise you." She looked up, his green eyes shone in the low light. She felt his hand move down from her shoulder and to her waist.

"Okay, I believe you." He murmured, his fingers slipped under the waistband of her skirt.

Tessa leaned more into his hard body, her fingers splayed on his thigh, "Eli..." She murmured, her skin growing warm once more. Right now, she felt fully safe with this man beside her. They had known each other for some weeks now and she could easily call him her best friend despite he didn't really know her backstory. Nor did he ever ask or seemed bothered she never told him.

Elijah cupped her cheek with his other hand, "You know you are incredibly beautiful." He said it in a way that it wasn't a question.

"I don't believe that but I can believe it when it comes from you." She spoke with a soft gasp, his thumb stroking her cheek.

"Always believe that. You are a beautiful woman who I am thankful for meeting." The next moment shocked her.

Elijah kissed her. It was a soft caress type, testing the waters.

She reached out and gripped his shoulder, pulling him in and indicating she wanted him to kiss her more. So he did by deepening it. She parted her lips and welcomed him in, letting his tongue swept over hers. A sound escaped them both and his hand that was on her cheek moved down, brushing over her breast and he let out a grunt as he felt around her chest.

"No bra?" He muttered against her lips.

"I tend not to wear one, gets uncomfortable." She had her arms half around his neck and pecked at his lips as he squeezed her breast. She let out a gasp.

"Like that?" His lips brushed her nose.

"I do." She bit her bottom lip her eyes darted around the main floor of the pub but it seemed no one was looking at them. "Maybe we should take this elsewhere?" She asked.

"Why? Afraid you might get caught?" His hand continued its descent, over her abdomen and to her thigh.

"No. But I don't want to get in trouble." Tessa's legs parted slightly with the help of him before that damned hand began to go up the inside of her thigh. "Elijah! No!" She laughed softly as she tried to push his hand away.

"You like this, I can see it." He growled against her ear as his hand shot forward to meet the barrier of stocking and cloth. His middle finger rubbed up and down against that barrier.

Tess let out a soft moan, clutching him as she leaned further back into the booth they were seated in, "O-Oh Elijah." His finger continued to do its motion against her before he pressed harder, "God, are you drenched already?" His lips were hot against her neck.

"Yeah. Oh, Elijah- I want to take this elsewhere." She locked her legs around his hand, gripping his forearm and tried to stop his touching.

"Where would you like to go then? I could drive us somewhere quiet and dark." Elijah grunted when she began to rub against his crotch with her leg.

She looked around and then to the bathroom, "Toilets. I don't think I can wait till you drive and find a place." She sighed in relief when he pulled back and looked over to the dark hallway that leads to the toilets.

"Oh? Wanna fuck in public, hey?" He smirked getting up and holding out his hand for her to take.

She stood and smirked back, "It's not really public." She said as they walked to the bathrooms. He took a peek in the men's bathroom.

"All clear, beautiful." He said and she looked around and ducked in quickly. He took her to the farthest stall and lucky for them it had a broken light. Once in, he had her back to the hard wall and was kissing her feverishly. Her arms locked around his neck and her fingers deep into his hair.

Elijah's hands roamed all over her and hitched up her skirt to her waist and then ripped her stockings between her legs.

"Elijah! No! My stockings!" She cried out frowning as she glanced over.

"I'll get you new ones." He kissed her to shut her up and she instantly forgave him like that. Tessa reached down to his belt buckle and swiftly undid them, pulling out his hard length. She felt no man as big as he was and she moaned in delight.

"Fuck." She said, stroking the velvet shaft.

"You like it, hm?" He had his hands braced on the wall on either side of her.

"Yeah. And I want you inside me, hun." She gritted her teeth.

"Gladly." He reached down and lifted her up and got her to lock her legs around him. "Get me in, princess. I want you." He kissed her cheeks and her jaw then her neck.

"Mmm," She replied. She pushed aside her lacy thong and brought his thick head to her dripping core. "Thrust." She whispered with anticipation.

Elijah grunted as he pushed forward. He came with resistance but felt her open up as he kept going deeper and deeper. Her moans were muffled as she buried her head into his shoulder, biting down on the fabric of his jumper. "Holy fucking Christ." He said, stilling once he was balls deep in her.

"Fuck me, Elijah. Please, Christ, fuck me." She begged softly, her body undulating against him.

"I am no God." He groaned and began to thrust.

The fucking was rough, he bent her legs more outwards to get further into her and it made her cry out suddenly. He had hit a sweet spot and kissed her to quiet her heavenly moans. Her lovely breasts under her jumper bounced from the thrusts he gave her and he wished he could just tear the damn shirt to see them. But God he didn't want to wait any longer, he wanted to be inside her. Her walls were tight and hugged him, drawing out the pleasure in intense waves.

They had almost got caught when a group of guys walked in and they had to suddenly stop. Tessa held back a laugh as she kept her face buried in his neck.

"Oi, you two back there. We know you in 'ere. We won't be long." The boys snickered and one of them banged on the door.

"Give it to her, man!" One yelled.

Elijah gave Tessa a look and she smirked, nodding.

Elijah did indeed, give it to her. Her loud cry from his sudden speed made the guys holler in the bathroom and cheer him on. It wasn't long they left them be.

The idea of being caught thrilled Tessa and brought her to the edge, and it was soon after she was crying out his name and she came hard on his cock.

"Knees. Now." Elijah grunted as he set her down. She collapsed on her knees and she opened her mouth wide for him as he pumped himself. His groans were deep and guttural, one hand braced on the wall above her before he barked out and came on her face. His seed was hot and thick and a lot. 

He panted when he stilled, his knees bent and his hair disarray on his head. He looked down at her, seeing her messy face and her black jumper had thick blobs on it.

"Oh, my God." She whispered, leaning back against the wall with a grin. "You animal." She wiped his cum off her face and began to lick her fingers.

Fuuuuuuuuck, he thought as she did her best to clean herself up.

"Indeed. Holy crap that was amazing." He reached down and helped her up before getting her to sit down on the toilet lid.

"It was." She giggled watching him clean himself up with tissues and tucked himself away.

"Did you like it?" He asked before he began to clean her face up. She let him and smiled more.

"Oh, it was so good, Elijah. So, so good." She said softly.

He smiled and leaned in, kissing her deeply, "I'm glad you liked it, Princess."

She shivered at the nickname and stood. Her legs were wobbly but she was okay, she tried to fix herself up but her stockings were ruined. She simply tugged her skirt down after she cleaned up and adjusted her jumper.

"Stay at my place tonight," Elijah said as he pulled her close, hands on her ass.

"Okay. I will." She nodded and they left the stall and the bathroom.

Those same boys were outside and smirked at Elijah, "Damn bro, you are totally mad."

She watched the interactions and it seemed he knew them, she raised a brow as they walked away from them, his arm around her waist, "You know 'em?" She asked.

"Yeah. Buddies from work. They mean no harm." He smiled at her as they came to his car.

"They hype you up like this? Or is this like, a random chance that they saw us?"

"Not really. I think it's just the chance they saw us. You aren't upset, are you?" He held open the door for her.

"No. I'm not." She leaned up and kissed him softly.

He squeezed her side and closed the door after her. He drove back to his apartment he shared with his best mate who was still back in the pub, he had explained that to her as they got into his room.

"Interesting. I bet he'll be there for a while?" She asked as she stood at the end of the double bed Elijah had. His room was full of band posters and shelves covered in Pop Vinyls, superhero figurines and many books. She smiled at the disorderly room. She loved it.

"Yeah, I think so. Why?" Elijah had gone into his own bathroom to wash his face. As he walked out he let out a gasp.

Tessa had stripped and laid face down on his bed, her ass up in the air and she was fingering herself.

"Cause I don't want that toilet fuck to be the only fuck tonight." She moaned, slipping her fingers deep inside her.

Elijah hissed as he discards his clothing lightning fast and was upon her in no time, grabbing her hair and yanking her back and made her scream all night long.

Neither of them was sure whether it was the bed banging on the wall or the neighbour's fists to shut them up. Oh well, they can deal with it. Tessa wasn't too concerned, too wrapped up in pleasure.

#cillian murphy #teacher x student #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #fanfiction

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

Drops From My Bucket

“The thief comes only to steal… kill and destroy,.” Jn 10:10NASB

A woman spoke to the DJ over the phone. For their first anniversary, her husband received the doctor’s report— jaw cancer. Surgeries, radiation, chemo— nothing they dreamed of for their marriage. She thanked the DJ because God used the station to play the right song to lift her spirit, as they walked through the fire.

Jesus told us the thief’s MO, mode of operation, is to steal, kill and destroy. His purpose isn’t just to steal from someone, or kill someone. He intends to destroy the entire family through the incident.

Our daughter played with Cindy. She and her sisters frequented our house. The news came. Her two year old brother followed them to the store. They hadn’t noticed him tagging along behind. Crossing the highway was easy for them. But Junior didn’t understand the semi couldn’t stop in time.

Cindy’s parents didn’t know Jesus. The marriage started failing immediately. Everyone blamed each other. Dad completely withdrew. Mom had a mental-breakdown. Three girls raised themselves. Someone said the semi driver stayed drunk to keep from seeing the little face surrounded with blond curls. God doesn’t promise life without troubles. Jesus said this is the thief’s MO.

Several times I’ve held hands with grieving people as they screamed, “God why did You do that to________” What do you to tell someone in the rage of grief? They can’t hear anything. Somehow, saved or sinner— God is to blame for everything bad. Yet, Jesus added truth in the last half of my text scripture: “…I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” John 10:10NASB.

You say, ‘but you don’t understand Debbie?’ My blood boiled, while I held this little girl, telling me about the horrors at home. Everything in me saw red. Murder entered my mind. Oops, that’s trouble. Wrong spirit! Two years later God delivered me from the murderous spirit, the hate, the bitterness, the rage. My two cousins and I had stayed in continual prayer for this deliverance. Then God gave me the ability to love and pray for the perpetrator. I continually cried out to the Lord— in spite of all the other horrible things which followed. The demon, causing these horrors, wasn’t going to be allowed to destroy the entire family.

Peter informed us in 1Pet 1:7NLT “These trials are only to test your faith, to show that it is strong and pure. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold--and your faith is far more precious to God than mere gold…” Jesus never left me. He frequently gave instant answers to other prayers. In the pain, Holy Spirit was close and comforting. When the one time, meant to break my faith, came— ten minutes beforehand, God had Kenneth Copeland Ministries call with prayer and a promise. Never before nor since has that happened. God pre-covered the heartbreak.

Two baby Christians involved were destroyed in this nightmare. Their destruction won’t be permanent. Because God still answers prayer.

Tests come, daily. With tests faith is grown. When we can do nothing but trust— God was faithful. He will be faithful to you. I understand your pain, your loss was devastating. You only have seen drops from my bucket. Believe me, HANG ON TO JESUS!

Dig down in the scriptures. Blame the thief— satan, not God. Find your comfort in Jesus’ Words. He’ll give you life more abundantly. Read the other half of 1Pet 1:7, “…So if your faith remains strong after being tried by fiery trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.” Abundantly is coming. Persevere. Or not— It’s your choice. You choose.

PRAYER: Father I thank you that You know how to work all things together for our good. Help us to trust you and grow, in Jesus’ name I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2020 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this as author. Thank you.

#Jesus Christ #lord of lords #Word of God #Holy Spirit #God #it's your choice #devotional #bucket #destroyed #faithful #murder #deliverance #precious #love #hope #faith

[girlinthepictureframe]

The Briefest Kiss Part 13

Thank you for all your kind words and likes and reblogs! ❤️ This story is now on AO3 as well. Here’s the link for those of you who are interested! 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20921534/chapters/49736201

Present Day 

April 2019

Alex sat in the back of the chartered jet, on route to Argentina with the rest of the Monkeys. Matt and Jamie were joking around in the front while Nick had fallen asleep half an hour ago. He'd like to get some rest as well, but it just wouldn't come to him. Instead, he kept checking the time. Still too early to call, wasn't it? “Fuck it,” he murmured and pressed dial. 

Miles picked up after the first ring. 

“Good morning, Miles. This is Alex, calling for our fourth, scheduled 'let's have a phone friendship'-call. How are you this morning?” The disdain for their situation, but mostly for Miles' idea of a separation, dripped from every syllable. 

“You ever start a conversation with me like that again,” snipped Miles from across the ocean, “I'll hang up. Got it?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Too early for your sense of humor, ey?”

“No,” retorted Miles. “But this is the fourth time you call me and use that passive-aggressive tone of yours and you know how much that tone pisses me off, which means you're doing it on purpose. You're mad at me and I get it, okay? You don't like this. Well, guess what?” said Miles as his voice got louder, “I don't like it either. But it is what it is. And for what it's worth, you and I are busy. You're doing your tour and I'm doing mine, so it's not as though I'm stopping us from hanging out at some beach or whatever!”

Alex knew that. He knew Miles was busy. He was busy, himself. And if fucking annoyed him that he hated that fact. He ought to be enjoying it. It was the last leg of their tour and it had been a good tour! He should be having the time of his life at the moment. Instead he felt trapped. Worse, he felt shut out of Miles' life. “That's not what I'm saying! But you're the one who decided that we need distance. And then you fucking kicked me out of your apartment! So excuse me for being a little bitter about that!” 

“I didn't kick you out, Al.”

“Yes, you did. Call it whatever you want, but that's what it was.” After that night, they hadn't spoken for half a week aside from the occasional and impersonal text message. And Mexico had been no different. Miles had barely spent any time with him and when he had, they had always been around other people. Never alone. “You're treating me as though all of this is my fault.”

Silence fell over them. A few moments passed before Miles spoke up. “I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention.” Another beat. “You’re different than I am. I always worry and my head is filled with different scenarios of all that could go wrong. You let your heart guide you. You're reckless. And I don't mean that in a bad or mean or insulting way. I'm just trying to explain myself. I fear I'm not doing well with that.”

Alex leaned back, closed his eyes. “Are you blaming me for that kiss?”

“No, no.”

“Sounds like it, Mi.”

“You told me to lose control, Al!”

“So you are blaming me!” He took offense. “I was caught up in a moment,” Alex reminded him. “You're the one who kissed me all slow and…” The memory of it caused a shiver to run up his spine. “You know well enough how you kissed me!” 

“I know what I did,” snapped Miles. “Why the fuck do you think I'm staying away from you, huh? I told you I can't control it.”

“Stop punishing me for that,” bit Alex back. 

Silence fell over them again. Alex took a few deep breaths, rubbed the weariness from his eyes and leaned forward, propping his heavy head up on his hand. 

“I feel like I'm losing my mind,” admitted Miles, breaking the quietness. “I don't want to snap at you. Alex, I miss you! But all it takes is one look at you and all my resolve melts away.”

“So does mine,” said Alex defensively. “I wasn't trying to seduce you,” he whispered, occasionally remembering that he wasn't alone on that plane. “But whenever we're that close, I just forget everything else. My mind blanks and all that's left is…you know what!” He sat up straight again. “You barely talked to me in Mexico. You treated me like a stranger! That hurt.”

“Louise was there!” Miles shot back. “That—”

“That what?” demanded Alex to know when Miles abruptly stopped speaking. 

“I didn't want to be in the way,” finished Miles, using words that Alex could tell were chosen carefully.  

“That's not what you wanted to say, Miles! Don't lie to me!” 

“It fucking hurt, okay? Happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Was it? Alex didn't know. If that's what he wanted to hear, didn't that also imply he had purposely paraded her around in front of Miles? Had he done that? Was he that sick of a bastard? Had he been that bitter about Miles' wish for a bit of space? And how could he have known that her presence would hurt him? “That’s not…”

“Damn it, Al! What are we doing?”

“I don't know, Mi.”

“You know, yesterday, I was actually looking forward to our call. I had this idea for a riff that I wanted to share. And Victoria told me a joke that I thought you'd really like. I wanted to tell you that my coffee maker broke. I knew you'd be happy to hear that, since you hate that thing so much! All this stuff that real friends talk about.”

Alex would have loved to hear all that. “Then why were you so grumpy when you picked up?” 

“Cause I had just woken up from a dream.”

“And?”

“And you’re not here,” confessed Miles.

Alex felt his eyes grew heavy and his skin turn hot. How he wanted to be there, in bed, with Miles! This early in the morning, the pillows and sheets would be warm and soft and Miles would be, too. He would be sleepy and he would have that lazy, subtle little smile on his face that always let him know that he had dreamt well. Alex would wiggle closer towards him, maybe brush his leg against his dick to tease him just the slightest bit. And he would kiss him. He’d take his time and be tender, until he would know that Miles was awake. Then he would kiss him harder, deeper, vigorously. He’d roll on top of him, grab his arms, pin him down and…

Alex shook his head, swallowed hard. “Oh,” was all he could reply.

Miles seemed to understand. “Exactly.” 

“Should we hang up?” asked Alex, unsure how to handle this whole mess.

“Not yet,” pleaded Miles. “Tell me about your day. Tell me boring things.”

Alex turned to stare out of the window and found the endless horizon staring back at him. “The hotel staff temporarily lost one of Nick's guitars,” he began and took Miles step by step through the day's events. They talked for another hour, about benign little things that carried no meaning at all. At the end of his story about how the Monkeys' driver got lost on his way to the airport, Alex could hear the hoarse, breathy sound of Miles' soft snores. 

The desire to be lying next to him in that moment became almost unbearably painful. That feeling of being stuck returned to him. And there was nothing he could do to make it go away. “Sleep well, Mi,” whispered Alex and ended the call. 

Two weeks later. 

“You really don’t mind if I toss all those guitars into the trash?”

Huh? What? Of course he would mind! These were his guitars! Alex shook his head, turned to stare his father with a look of shock. “Why would you want do that?”

“Jesus Christ!” said David Turner and placed the heavy box with old cables and what-nots onto the floor. “You were listening, then!”

Alex rolled his eyes as he wiped the dirt from his hands. “Yes. Sorry, dad. Got a lot on my mind today.” Even though it was a chilly spring day, he was sweating nonetheless. “How many more boxes are there?” He tried not to sound as annoyed as he felt. “I thought you and Miles already did the heavy lifting?”

“We did a lot of it,” said his dad as he picked the heavy box back up. “But there’s a whole lot of stuff in this garage that I want out. And then we have to paint the ceiling. Else we can’t begin to build the new racks.”

“We?” asked Alex, with dread. 

“You said you were staying for a bit!” 

Only because his mother had promised him that there was no home-improvement planned for the duration of his stay. Otherwise he wouldn’t have shown up. Played. By his parents. Once again! Story of his life. “You know I could pay for people to do all that for you? I’d be happy to!” He’d pay a fortune not to have to do the work himself! 

“Where’s the fun in that, son?” He handed the heavy box to Alex. “Go put that with the other stuff. Your mother and I are very appreciative of the fact that you so generously want to spend your hard-earned money on us, but every once in a while she and I like doing a bit of the work ourselves!”

Why, Alex would never understand. But what choice did a son have than to buckle up and help! So he went and put the box with the other stuff. 

“Want to tell me what’s on your mind?” asked David as he rummaged through a bucket filled with nuts, bolts and screws. 

“You’ll never need those again,” pointed Alex out, only to receive a stern glare in return.

“You don’t know that!” He picked the bucket up and handed it to Alex. “Go put that—”

“With the other stuff,” finished Alex. Bloody thing weighed a ton! “Nice of you to offer your ear but…” 

“I’m not your mother?” His father chuckled. “She may understand the matters of your heart a bit better than I do, but you’ve been glum and moody for almost a year now. If her words haven’t helped you by now, maybe it’s time you give me a chance.”

Alex smiled. And felt bad. He had great parents, didn’t he? He shouldn’t have spent the day bitching about helping with the garage. “How about a break, dad? Do you want something to drink?”

“A coffee would be quite welcome at the moment. There’s a new coffee machine in the kitchen but I don’t know how to work it. Would you mind?”

“Of course not. Plain black coffee?”

“No,” grinned David. “Café latte with foam, please. Thank you, son.”

A what now? Alex shook his head as he made his way inside. And then he saw it. In the corner, by the fridge. A big, tacky, bright red machine with a blinking LCD display, a few gaudy chrome buttons and two empty mugs waiting to be filled. Oh, it had to have been him! There was no way his parents would ever buy themselves something as big and ridiculously expensive as this thing. And it was expensive! He knew, ‘cause he’d been there, four years ago, when Miles had went and gotten himself the previous model of that fucking coffee monster! Who had ended up carrying that stupid thing up the three flights of stairs to Miles’ apartment that day? Well, not Miles! He’d been busy carrying the Saint Laurent bag filled with a new pair of shoes!

Alex made his father his desired cup of coffee, then went back to the garage. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

“When did he drop by?”

David looked up mid-sip. “Who?”

“Miles. When he did drop by? He’s the one who got you that fucking coffee machine, isn’t he? He knows how much I hate those. He’s getting a kick of letting me suffer!” 

“It’s a coffee machine, Alex. Don’t be dramatic. And if you must know, it was Miles. He came by last week. Called it a very belated Christmas present. Your mom already fancies herself in love with that machine.” He chuckled at that. “It’s a little big, yes. But quite efficient! And very good at its job. I’ve never tasted coffee that good! Why don’t you like it? You love coffee.”

A simple coffee maker got the job done just as well. And if one wanted fancy coffee, then one could walk to a coffee shop and get it. The idea of putting overly big machines into a kitchen was beyond him. Also, it annoyed him that Miles hadn’t told him that he’d dropped by his parents’ home, even though they had spoken on the phone a few times since. It annoyed him almost as much as the fact that his parents had actually gotten to see him, while he was stuck on the bloody phone with him. 

David sat down on an old wooden chair in the corner, taking another sip. “Very good coffee, indeed. When you’re done with those two boxes, we should call it a day. It’s already late and we’ve yet to find something to eat. I told your mother I’d fire up the grill, but I’m not sure we’ve got anything to put on it. By the way, will you ever tell Miles that you’re in love with him?”

Alex was in the midst of lifting yet another, even heavier box when his father’s words sank in. It slipped right out of his hands and he barely managed to jump away in time to avoid having it land on his feet. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I fear we’re out of steaks.” When Alex met his eyes, David smiled warmly. “Talk to me about Miles, son.”

“I got to hand it to you, in terms of bluntness, mom got nothing on you!” 

“Don’t tell her. Let that be our secret.” He grinned. 

Alex sat down on the now ignored box. “How do you know?”

“Aside from the obvious? That boy has spent the last ten years or more walking in and out of our house as though he lived here. Then his visits become less frequent. Eventually they stop. And, coincidentally, at the same time you become a hollow shell of your former self.”

At that, Alex scoffed. He wasn’t a shell, was he? A little preoccupied with his thoughts, maybe. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Am I wrong?”

Well…he had been distant lately. And downtrodden. And maybe he had listened to a few too many depressing songs, realized Alex. He shook his head and admitted defeat. “No.”

“The pictures hurt you, haven’t they?”

“How the fuck do you know about the pictures?” Alex had been on the plane back from South America, on route to London to visit Miles, as friends did. The tour was done. He had also planned on visiting his parents. The entire thing had been completely above brow and Miles wouldn’t have been able to take offense or accuse Alex of breaking another one of Miles’ ridiculous and annoying boundaries! 

But on the plane, he had gotten bored. It had been a very long flight. So he had checked the Daily Mail gossip page. And there they had been. Pictures of Miles with his former girlfriend, partying in a club, huddling together, whispering to each other, smiling at each other. It had hurt. Badly. But he wasn’t allowed to take offense, to be hurt, was he? He had a girlfriend in France, waiting for him to return. And Miles was single so his friend had done nothing wrong! However, that didn’t change a thing. No matter how often he had tried to explain it to his heart since then, the stupid just wouldn’t listen and stubbornly kept hurting. So Alex had traveled directly to his parents, instead. 

“I saw them on Twitter,” explained David, pulling Alex out of his thoughts. 

“What?!” His dad was dropping bombshell after bombshell!

“How am I supposed to keep up with what the bunch of you are doing?” David asked indignantly. “I’d like to know it if one of you does something that might require a few stern words or a compliment. Twitter is quite efficient to stay on track.”

“You don’t know how to work the coffee machine but you know Twitter?” 

“You don’t know how to work Twitter but you know the coffee machine!” Retorted David. 

Point taken. Alex sheepishly looked away. 

“When Miles visited, back before you all went on tour,” Alex’s father continued, “I could see the light return to your eyes. You were laughing and playing guitar and enjoying life a little more. I’m not blind, Alex. I watched you on tour together. I’ve seen you around each other. I don’t wrap myself around my best friend when we hang out. We don’t kiss each other’s cheeks all the time. I don’t hold his hand when I walk with him through the house. I can see the look in your eyes when Miles is near. Whenever you think he caught you staring at him, you quickly look away, even blush, and crack a silly joke that nobody but Miles finds funny. Your mother and I have shared quite a few giggles over that.” He was giggling now. “For what it’s worth, I’ve never seen Miles look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

Wouldn’t it be nice if it were true? But it wasn’t. And his father was imagining things, sad though that was. “Miles and I…he and I…” Alex struggled to find the right words. As always! “We’re both male.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” deadpanned his father.

Alex groaned. “I’m trying to say...I mean...for as long as I’ve known him, I never worried about going too far and crossing a line. I never thought there were lines to cross. Because, well, I mean…we had girlfriends. It never occurred to me that…”

“You thought that, because he’s a guy, you could get close to him without risking your heart?”

“Relationships end. Friendships are supposed to last forever. I never meant to fall in love with him. I never thought I would. I never even thought I could, because he’s a guy! But it’s becoming clearer to me these days that my heart never cared for that. I think I may fallen in love with him at first sight.” He gave his father a helpless, hopeless shrug of his shoulders. “The other stuff…the attraction, the physical…ugh, it’s really hard to talk to you about this,” admitted Alex and looked at the ceiling, blushing hard. “It’s always been there. I just never noticed it before. At least not like I do now. But now that I have, I can’t…un-notice it, even though I want to un-notice it so badly.”

David got up, put the empty mug away, and took a seat next to his son. He wrapped an arm around his shoulder, gave it a squeeze and pulled him against his side. Alex placed his head on his father’s shoulder, closed his eyes and just reveled in the comfort he was receiving. “It’s so complicated now.”

“Now? Did something happen between the two of you?” 

Alex marveled, and would forever remain grateful, at the fact that his father was utterly unfazed by the fact that his supposedly straight son had just admitted to being in love with a man. His dad was treating it as the most normal thing in the world. It allowed him to be more honest than he believed himself capable of. “He and I…we did…you know what…last year. It got messy after that.”

“How?”

“I got scared. I had all this feelings,” Alex said quietly, scooting closer into his father’s arms. Who would have thought that, at over thirty, a parent’s embrace could still be so wonderful. “I didn’t know what to do or how to react and I ran. That’s when we stopped speaking. When he came here, we agreed to be friends again. And only that. Only friends. But it’s much harder than I thought!”

“Tell him that,” suggested David.

Alex chuckled sadly. “I have, I think. Miles doesn’t want to be with me. He’s not in love with me. I can handle that. It hurts, but I can handle it. We agreed we’d never do that thing again because it would ruin our friendship. He said he would never risk losing me for a bit of sex. And I love him even more for that.”

“You got it bad, don’t you?” He gave Alex another squeeze. And smiled widely. “But it all sounds so sad and tragic when you tell it. It doesn’t have to be!”

Alex was stunned. “How can it not sound that way? I’m madly in love with my best friend who doesn’t love me back!”

“Alex, come on. Get up, son. Let’s go shopping. We’ll get burgers and fries and that green stuff that your mother likes so much when we eat it.”

Alex followed his father towards the car. “Vegetables?”

“Precisely.”

“Dad, wait! What just happened? I tell you why I’m sad and you smile and want to go shopping? What did I miss?”

“The answer,” smirked David. He came to a stop in front of the car, turned towards his son and gave him a quick hug. “Everything you’re trying to figure out is already in here,” he said and tapped Alex’s forehead with one finger. “Take a break with me, clear your head, and then, when I grill the steaks and you finish up in the garage,” he interjected, “you go and ponder what you just told me. And I guarantee you, it’ll make you feel better and show you what to do next. I’m serious about the steak, though. I am hungry!” 

“If you think you know the solution to all my troubles, why won’t just tell it to me?”

“There are a few things in life that one needs to figure out for one’s self, son. You wouldn’t believe me anyway,” said David as he got into the car. “You’re coming?”

Alex groaned but got in. 

“Remind me, we need milk and cocoa powder as well. And those white foamy sweets.”

“Marshmallows?”

“Yes! Your mother loves those with her hot chocolate. I’m telling you, that coffee machine is the best gift we’ve ever gotten! It’s so versatile!” 

I once bought you a car, Alex wanted to point out. But whatever! Stupid coffee machine. Stupid, single Miles and his stupid, fancy coffee machine! 

Later that night, Alex all but sprinted across his old bedroom when his phone rang. “You got ‘em a bloody coffee machine!?” It truly did bother him!

He heard Miles’ laughter. “I needed a new one, I told you! And they had one on sale. It was a really good deal, so I got it for your parents. You should be happy that they’re enjoying it. They are enjoying it, right?”

“Don’t sound so smug,” grumbled Alex as he laid back on his bed. “Speaking about gifts, how come they get one and I don’t? You’ve yet to pick up yours and still haven’t said a word about mine. May I remind you that we missed out on celebrating Christmas and my birthday together, which means you’re two gifts short!”

“I have gifts for you,” mumbled Miles and Alex had to concentrate on making out the words. “The gift I got you for your birthday is pretty big. It’s in London. You just have to drop by and pick it up.”

“Big how?” asked Alex. “You made a huge fuss about my gift for you, which you – in my humble opinion – refused to accept for an entirely ridiculous reason!”

“Not big like that.” Miles hesitated. “The box is big. It’s actually a bit of a funny gift. The one I got you for Christmas…well, I kinda got it for you last year, long before we…you know…and I haven’t given it to you because…it might be the different kind of big. And after the huge fuss I made about your gift for me – which, in my humble opinion, was entirely reasonable – I really shouldn’t give mine to you. But I really want you to have it. It’s a dilemma.”

“Oh, it’s not!” Alex reassured him, grinning. “I’m not like you! I have no issues accepting big gifts! When will you be in London so I can get my gifts?”

“Impatient much?” Miles laughed. “I won’t be back before next week. I’m visiting a few old friends. Then I’ll head to my mom. And there’s a birthday party near Sheffield two days from now, so I’ll be near your parents. Maybe I drop by for coffee!” 

“Whose birthday?” asked Alex dryly, deliberately ignoring the coffee quip. 

“I don’t know,” admitted Miles. “Friend of Victoria’s. Came by one of our shows. He invited everyone, said it’ll be a huge party. The whole band is going. What are you doing next week? You’re back in Sheffield, aren’t you? Admit it, you’ve spent a good portion of your day pointlessly glaring at the poor, innocent coffee machine!” 

“I haven’t. I don’t glare pointlessly. I glared at it angrily.” Alex sank deeper into the cushion. “Don’t know about next week yet.” He hesitated for a moment, but then did suggest what he’d initially intended to do anyway. “We should meet, Miles. It’s been a while.” Almost three weeks.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” That wasn’t the reply Alex had expected.

“Okay,” repeated Miles. “Let’s meet. In London. Soon. So you can get your gifts.”

“And my shirt,” which Alex had absolutely not forgotten about.

“Does that mean I can keep the belt?”

“Dream on!” Both laughed. It felt so good to laugh with him. And even though he’d never, ever admit it to Miles, Alex had to agree that talking to him via phone was a bit easier and less distracting than speaking to him directly. “Miles? Are you busy at the moment? You got plans tonight?” Are you meeting your ex, he really wanted to ask.

“Nope. Just me and the TV tonight. You?”

“Me and no TV. It was a long day.” Was it a bad thing that it made him happy that Miles had no plans for the evening? He pushed the thought away. “Did some working out, sort of. Dad had me carry a lot of boxes. That bloody garage! I think I’m getting old. In the old days, I could go for days without sleep. But now? It’s sad, truly.”

Miles was laughing again. “I feel for you, babe! But you’re right. I also like my off-days much more than I used to!” 

Alex was shaking his head at himself. One little word. Babe. And here his fucking heart was, fluttering around in his chest like those four little letters actually meant something. 

Words. 

Meaningful words. 

Alex frowned. A thought had just crossed his mind, but it had been too brief, too fast, to take note of in time. It made him feel strange and restless, all of sudden. Like he’d glimpsed at something very important without realizing it. And now that he tried to get a closer look, it was gone. Where did one search for a thought?

“Alex? You’re still there?”

“Huh? What?” 

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” said Alex, without feeling okay. He sat up straight. “Did you ever feel like…like…” “Like what?” asked Miles, clearly interested. 

“I can’t even say,” Alex described. Or rather failed to. “Something just crossed my mind! Just a second ago! But I don’t know what! I just…argh! You must think I’m crazy!” 

“I would never think that of you. Did the idea for a song come to you? A lyric? A melody?”

“No.” Alex tried to recall that elusive thought. “I think not. Feels different when that happens.”

“Well, let me know if you figure it out,” Miles told him. “You got me all curious now!”

A loud groan slipped from Alex’s throat. “Ugh. I bet I won’t get a moment’s sleep tonight. I just…I had a thought. But I don’t know what thought that was. It’ll keep me awake all night, I swear! It was something about…words.” He felt as though he was trying to recall the entire plot of a book he’d never even read! 

“Words, huh? That’s a vague description. Good words? Bad words? A specific word? Words that somebody has said to you? Or wor–”

“Stop!” There it was again. And there it went away again. “Argh!” Alex drove a hand through his hair, only to hiss in pain. Shit. He’d forgotten that hair, once grown to a certain length, would tangle and knot and not part easily. “Damn hair!” 

“I’m not there with you,” Miles reminded him somewhat pointedly. “So if you jump from thoughts to hair to words and back, I’m unable to follow you. Oh shit!” 

“What? What happened?”

“Oh no! Oooh! I was supposed to go to the dentist today for my routine checkup! I completely forgot about that!” 

Alex rolled his eyes. Speaking about jumping from one thought to another! “Damn it, I thought something bad had happened!” 

“It is bad!” Miles was adamant. “I don’t like letting people wait around for me! It’s rude and not fair. I should have canceled sooner. I knew I wouldn’t be in town today. Gotta call tomorrow and apologize!”

“To the dentist?” Alex scoffed. At least he wasn’t the only one who was crazy!

“To the person who makes the schedule! Mock me, I don’t care. But I don’t like people to think I’m some prick who believes he can come and go as he wants. I’d never do that! Which, if I may remind you, is the reason the guy who drove the bus when you and I did our tour liked me a lot better than you!”

“Well, he might have liked you better but while you were sitting in the bus like the well-behaved little rockstar that you are, I was sleeping out! So, which one of us made the wiser decision? I believe I did!” Alex grinned when he heard Miles begin to laugh. 

“Fair point,” agreed his friend, taking it in stride. Alex yawned and Miles laughed louder. “Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you’re getting old! I think it’s time you try that whole sleeping thing! Slumber well, Al.”

“Night, Mi.” He hung up with a chuckle. 

I’d never do that.

Alex bolted upward and zoomed in on Miles’ words. “He’d never do that.” The thought came back. Clearer, this time. “He’d never risk that.” Miles loved Alex. As a friend, yes. But he loved him. And he’d never risk losing him as a friend for a bit of sex. He had said so himself. And if he would never do that? What did that mean? 

Alex got up, paced the room with large, impatient strides. They were friends. They loved each other. But…if Miles would never risk their friendship just for a bit of sex, then…then it hadn’t been just a bit of sex. And if it hadn’t been that, did that mean that it had been more? 

With a groan he stripped off his hoodie. Suddenly he felt warm, sweaty even. His head was overflowing with thoughts. His entire body was pulsating, throbbing with something he couldn’t define. His eyes landed on the phone which lay on top of the comforter. 

Miles. 

We’ve locked our hearts in. 

Alex’s breathing became uneven as he was hit by memories of Miles explaining his feelings to him. His friend had been so honest, so open, this entire time. If only Alex had paid closer attention to his actual words! Or even just his actions! All those nights that he’d spent in Miles’ arms, pretending that it was just a friendship-thing? When had he ever felt the need to sleep in Matt’s arms? Or Jamie’s? Or Nick’s? Hell, when had he ever desperately desired to sleep in Taylor’s arms? None of them would have ever even allowed him into their beds, or arms. None, except Taylor. Because Taylor had loved him. But not as a friend!

Miles had always opened his arms for him, Alex realized. Without any hesitation. He’d held him, squeezed him, kissed him, caressed him, even sucked him and fucked him and none of that had felt platonic! Alex came to a stop, held onto his desk and closed his eyes. He remembered those kisses, remembered the way Miles had deepened their contact, had groaned and moaned into his mouth, had sighed in pleasure and begged in need. 

Miles had told him they were different, but they weren’t. Not that different. Alex tried to recall his own romantic escapades, tried to recall what he had felt then, but those brief affairs and one night stands that he used to have were all pale and dim compared to the fireworks and explosions he’d experienced with Miles. The ones that had come before Miles didn’t matter to him. They had never left him drowning in want. They had never made him feel loved, the way Miles had made him feel loved. They had never made him surrender completely. 

Images of Miles’ face flashed in front of Alex’s eyes. Images from their night. Images of Miles staring at Alex with complete and utter fascination, as though Alex was a living, breathing miracle and Miles was overwhelmed by his beauty. No one had ever looked at him like that. 

That fucking hurt!

And how could Miles have been hurt by Alex if there were no feelings which could have gotten hurt? If Miles had wanted him there when he had woken up that night, then he couldn’t have been disgusted by him! And if the attraction was still there, as Miles had told him, as he had demonstrated by kissing him again, then he didn’t regret it. Did he? If the only reason it couldn’t happen again was the risk of losing their friendship, it meant Miles absolutely didn’t regret it! 

We’ve always pretended that all we did was play around. 

So if they hadn’t pretended, if they hadn’t played around, if everything had been real, then…

Could it be? 

I’d never risk losing you for a bit of sex.

If Miles hadn’t risked it for a bit of sex, he had risked it for something more. And more than sex was…love. 

Was Miles in love with him? Alex dropped to the chair next to him and just sat there, in silence. Motionless. Was that possible? Did he dare to believe that the one person he loved so wholly might actually love him back? Alex tilted his head to the side, to look at his phone again. Well, he couldn’t really call him and ask him, could he? 

Oh God! What was he supposed to do now? Wait until they met again? How long would that take? He couldn’t even go to Miles because he didn’t know where, precisely, Miles was at this very moment. And he couldn’t call and ask Miles, because hearing his voice right now would make speaking entirely impossible and Miles would never just tell him without asking why. What then? Same problem! He couldn’t tell him on the phone. “Fucking hell,” shot Alex and closed his eyes. 

Party. 

Wait, there was a party. A birthday party. Everyone was invited, Miles had said so. That meant Alex was invited as well, right? But whose party was it? He needed to call somebody other than Miles for details. Victoria! He could call Victoria! Alex jumped up, grabbed the phone from his bed and – then stopped. It was already midnight. He couldn’t call her now. That would be strange. And it would raise flags. Victoria would then call Miles, who, in return, would call Alex. Voila, back to problem one. Fucking phones! 

He’d do it tomorrow. He’d find a way to explain it to her. 

Tomorrow. Oh, tomorrow was so very far away. 

And it’d be days until he saw Miles. Days! 

Alex sank down on the bed and laid back again. 

Days! 

He’d never last that long. 

Spoiler for Part 14:

“Fuck talking,” declared Alex.

“Fuck me,” said Miles.

#the briefest kiss #milex #milex fanfic #milex fanfiction #miles kane alex turner #fanfic #fanfiction

[anarcoqueer1994]

Trans Platonic Tarty Story part 6.

So this is most like my last part! Thank you everyone for reading and reblogging. Probably going to start a new Trans TJ story soon with less focus on the coming out parts.

This is a heavy Marty chapter with some Muffy moments. I hope you like it!

Also remember that you are valid whether you pass, don't pass, or don't want to. How you live your gender or lack there of is up to you. <3

Marty felt so stupid running off from his friends like that. He just doesn't know what else to do right now. He knows TJ isn't mad at him for not coming out. He knows that TJ is right about it being his choice to make about when or if he wants people to know he is trans. He understands this all objectively. But knowing something  doesn't necessarily change how you feel, and right now Marty feels like a coward. 

He ran off from the lunch table leaving his very confused friends to piece together what just happened. When he finally stopped running, he finds himself under the bleachers around the football field. He collapses onto the patchy grass under the metal seats above him. Usually running helps him feel better, at least for a bit, but not today. 

He had been doing so well, the past few months. He finally got out of that emotionally exhausting and abusive household where he couldn't be himself. He had formed a really great friendship with TJ. And most excitingly of all, he was finally dating the girl that has been invading his dreams every night for the past year and a half.  He should be the happiest he has ever been, but right now, in this moment, every negative thought that has ever crossed his mind about himself, is racing through his brain.

He feels so angry. He wants to blame someone else. Maybe it was his parents for fucking him up and causing all this internalized guilt for just being himself? Maybe he was mad at the few kids at school for being so hateful towards TJ for coming out, that made him terrified to do the same. Maybe he was mad at TJ for coming up with this stupid shirt idea in the first place? 

No. None of these were it. He was mad at himself for not being brave and he was mad that he lived in a world where you had to be brave to be open about being trans. He couldn't just be open with an expectation of no one having a problem because there was always going to be people who wouldn't be kind. It's really not fair. When you are born and the hospital assigns your gender, nobody questions it. But if you go against that assignment, it's a whole damn thing.

As he is mauling this over, only making himself more and more upset, he sees someone sit down beside him out of the corner of his eye. "Buffy, you didn't need to follow me."

"I mean, I kind of did. I don't know for sure but I am pretty sure it's part of the whole girlfriend job." She smiles, trying to lighten the mood. The boy sitting beside her, doesn't look. He anxiously messes with his shoe lace, while remaining silent.

"Marty, Kira is a mean, horrible person. Those things she said to TJ and Cyrus were inexcusable. But you didn't do anything wrong." She rests her hand on his knee.

"Well that doesn't change the fact that I stood there and did nothing, Buffy. You literally got in school suspension for standing up to Kira and I was a coward." He says, eyes not leaving the patch of ground below him.

"Marty…that's not true. You are not a cowa… "

"I don't need you to lie to me." He interrupts, coming off way angrier than attended.

She looks a little stunned at how harshly he talked to her but tries to brush it off. She knows he isn't really mad at her. She takes a deep breath. "I'm not lying to you, you aren't a coward. Its okay to protect yourself against toxic people like Kira. TJ and Cyrus know you care and they definitely don't blame you for not saying anything. It's your choice to come out on your terms."

He clutches a clump of grass and dirt. "Everyone keeps saying that to me, that it's my choice. Like it is that simple! But it's not. I feel like my head wants to do a 1000 different things at once. I don't want it to be some secret but it scares me to think of anyone besides our friends finding out. This would be so much better if I was born cis. If I didn't have to hide behind tight binders and loose shirts to be myself. " An angry tear forms in the corner of his eye. He quickly pushes his palm against it, pressing so hard he sees specs of color. "Jesus Christ."

Buffy opens her mouth to speak but is at a loss for words. She quickly closes it again. She doesn't know how to help him. He clears his throat. "I'm going to go."

"What about your afternoon classes?"

"What about them?" He says coldly before turning and walking away. Buffy, against every instinct she has to meddle, let's him walk away.

***********

Marty really doesn't know what his plan was, walking off from school like that. He knows his aunt won't be very happy about it when she finds out, but he didn't really care. He needed to be away from that school. He does regret how he treated Buffy though. She didn't deserve for him to treat her so coldly.

He walks for a while, careful to avoid main streets so he doesn't get caught. He doesn't know who he can talk to. The two people he usually turned to, he couldn't. He had blown off Buffy and TJ had his own shit to deal with right now. He thought about running, maybe take some things off his mind but that was too risky in the middle of the school day. So he decides to just go home...but not to his aunt's house.

He was headed to his parents house. He knew they both were at work right now so he would be alone. But also since they were at work, the house was locked. Luckily his old bedroom window was at the back of the house. So when he got there, all he had to do to get in was climb the tree and crawl in through the window.

When he stepped foot into his old room, it seemed unrecognizable. His parents quickly erased all remnants of ever having a child. The blue walls had been painted a deep burgundy. There were 2 black leather recliners in the corners of the rooms with a large smart TV screen against the opposite walls. There were some other miscellaneous things placed in the room, DVDs, some shelves with tons of books, etc. His parents had basically erased the child they were ashamed of with a room full of stuff that will always be more important to them.

With books, and movies, and TV shows, they could choose what they wanted to see. It was in their control. But with Marty, they couldn't control him and force him to be something he was not forever. He was always just going to be an inconvenient thorn in their side.

 He suddenly regrets coming here. He doesn't quite understand what he wanted to accomplish. Maybe he was hoping that his bedroom wouldn't of been changed. That they maybe kept it the way he left it because they missed and hoped he came back. He wanted some proof that his parents loved him. But all they did was ignore the fact that they ever had a child. 

He feels so angry, and hurt and even worse than he felt at school. He doesn't even know how it happened, but he finds himself walk the room, when he stops at a small framed picture on the side table next to one of the chairs. It is a picture of his mom and dad, but it looks familiar. He takes the backing off the frame and pulls the picture out. His heart drops into his stomach when he realizes that the picture had been folded to cut him off. It had been their family picture from the year before where his mom had forced him to where something "more feminine." 

He hated the picture because he didn't look or feel like himself in it. But it hurts more to know that now, his parents were just hiding him and existence.  He puts the picture back the way he found it. In his head he knew he should just leave but apparently his body did not want to listen.

Without thinking, he picked the picture back up and chucked it across the room where it hit the TV, busting it before the picture fell to the ground, glass from the frame shattering. Once he got started, he couldn't stop, he let his anger take hold of him. He knocked over books and movies, and broke the nearby lamp in the process. He trashed the room.

Then he was left standing in the middle of the chaos he created. The floor littered with the objects his own parents valued over him. He took it all in. He hoped this would make him feel better but it didn't. It just served as a reminder that the people that created him, saw this trash that surrounded him as worth more than him. That he was less than trash. 

Well he wasn't about to let them ignore him any more. They could hate him but couldn't just stamp him out. With what he had done, they couldn't just push him to the back burner. He grabs a sharpie that has ended up on the floor and in big black letters across the wall he wrote "DO YOU SEE ME NOW?" and with that, he climbed out the window and headed far away from that house.

**************

It was a few more hours until he finally headed back to his aunt's house. While he was out his phone died. He walks in to find her waiting at the kitchen table. She looks concerned.

"Marty?" She whispers. 

He turns to her with blood shot eyes. He had been crying on and off since he left his old home. His voice cracks. "What?"

"I've gotten some interesting phone calls today." Her face looks apprehensive. Her voice is soft and caring. He can tell that she isn't mad at him as much as she was concerned. "Why did you leave school? Why did you go your parent's house? Your mom called."

He looks away. He takes a sharp, pained, breath. He tries to choke something out, but his words get stuck in his throat. He felt terrible for putting his aunt in this situation. He wishes this didn't affect her but it does.

If she is upset about that fact, she doesn't show it. She can see how hurt her nephew is and that is the only thing she cares about. She gets up without a word and wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. He sniffled lightly again her shoulder. She doesn't say a thing, just gives him her unconditional love.

After standing there for a while, he quietly whispered, "I'm sorry…I'm sorry for causing any problems for you with my parents…"

"Baby, it's okay. I got it handle, okay?" Unknown to him, when his mom threatened to press charges on the phone, his aunt reminded her she could take her to court for child abandonment and child support.

"Okay. And um...thank you." He says timidly. 

"For what?" She smiles

"For caring about me…" He says as he steps to walk away. He doesn't really want to talk more now. "Hey...um...can we talk later? I kind of wanna lay down." He asks.

"Yea, of course." She says as he walks up to his room and shuts his door. He collapses on his bed and tries to clear his mind. It is not working out that well.

After more of an hour of silence, he hears a knock on his door. It pulls him out of his head. He yells to whoever is outside the door. "Yeah?" 

"Marty, it's me."

He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. "Buffy? What are you doing here?"

"Your aunt let me in. Can I open your door?" Her voice sounds like she is trying to be positive but it is tinged with worry.

He clears his throat, "Yeah, come in."

"Hey." Buffy says as she pushes the door open enough for her to come in before closing it behind her. She steps closer to the edge of his bed. "Can I sit?"

"Um sure, look Buffy, I'm sorry." He starts as she sits on his bed, half facing him. "I'm sorry that I just left earlier. I shouldn't have just ran away. I was kind of a jerk to you too."

"Yeah you were." She jokes. "But that's not why I'm here." Her voice gets more destressed. "Marty, you really had me worried. You ran off and weren't answering your calls."

"I'm...sorry." He exhales into an annoyed sigh but it wasn't aimed at Buffy. It was aimed at himself. "My phone died."

Buffy reaches forward and grabs Marty hand. "It's okay, I just care about you a lot."

Marty tries to joke. He puts on a half smile and says "Watch it, Driscoll, you getting soft on me?" 

She chuckles back. Keeping her voice low, she implored, "So, what did you do?"

He quickly looks away while rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "Something stupid…" He confesses.

"You wouldn't be the first person to do something stupid today. I got myself in school suspension...with Kira" She says in disgust.

"I broke into my parents house?" He continues to not look at her.

'Marty...why? What if you would of got caught?" Her eyebrows are raised in a mixture of confusion and surprise.

He finally meets her eye. "Yeah, I didn't think that far. But they weren't home so they didn't see me."

"Oh good so they don't know you were there?" 

He lets out a dry laugh. "Oh no, they definitely know I was there."

"What...did...you...do?" Emphasizing each word with a pause.

He places his other hand over Buffy's so that her hand is sandwiched between his. "It just happened, Buff." His voice sounded weak and defeated. "I went into my room to see if it changed. And it definitely did. They got rid of anything I didn't take with me. They made it a home theater. They purposely  blotched out any reminder that I ever occupied space in their lives. They even cut me out a stupid family picture." His breath sounded more labored now like he was trying to keep himself together and force himself not to cry.

"Marty, I'm so, so sorry…" She says, kicking off her shoes, so she could scoot closer onto the bed. She removes her hand from his, just for it to reappear on his shoulder a few moments, arm pulling him tight.

"I just wanted to believe that my parents really did love and we would someday get past this. But I don't think we ever will…and when I saw all that stuff, I was so angry. So I wrecked the room. I don't even know why. But part of me hoped that at least I could get some reaction off of them. Something so I could pretend that they care. But they don't."

"Well they didn't deserve to have a son as funny, and athletic, and...sweet…" She smiles into the word  "...as you. I mean that, okay? Your parents made their choice, and now they will never get to see all the great things you are going to do."

He can't help but smile at her words. He really is lucky to have the people who chose to stay in his life. "Hey, guess what?" His mood is notably lighter. 

"What?"

"One good thing came out of today. I realize I have a lot bigger problems than some terrible kids at school. At the end of the day, they are just other kids. It's nowhere near as bad as full grown adults hating you for just existing, especially when they are your parents. So…" he trails off.

"So what?" She urges for him to finish.

"So I'm going to come out tomorrow. I know some kids are going to be assholes  but Like you said…They made their choice. And I am making mine."

"Marty, are you sure?" She asks, to verify if that is what he really wants.

"Yeah. I'm tired of so much of my life being dictated by fear. I don't have to worry about people finding out if they already know. Even if it is terrible, I know my girlfriend and my friends have my back." His voice changes to a more silly competitive tone, "Plus TJ is already beating me on this coming out thing, so I really gotta step up my game." He cracks a goofy grin.

Buffy laughs before resting her head on his shoulder. "You are really full of surprises, Marty…"

"What can I say? I am." He holds onto her too.

***********

The next morning, Buffy meets Marty at his house so they can walk to school together. As they get closer to the school, Buffy asks "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." He admits.

"What's your plan?"

"I think I'm just going to wing it?"

"Which means?" She asks as they climb the steps leading into the school. 

"Not sure." He answers before opening the door to the crowded, busy hallway. They spot their friends in the hallway. TJ is still glued to Cyrus' side more than usual but he looks like he looks happier today. When Jonah, Andi, Cyrus, and TJ notice Buffy and Marty, they immediately smile over to them.

He can't help but feel great in that moment. He had friends who really cared about him even after he accidentally outed himself to them yesterday. Buffy has his hand in hers as they walk closer. A few feet from them though, he stops, drops Buffy's hand and turns to face the hallway, packed with students. He clears his throat loudly before speaking over everyone in there. "Hey excuse me?"

Andi walks close to Buffy and whispers "What is he doing?"

"I think he's winging it?" She says back equally as quiet. Her attention turns back to Marty as he continues.

"I just want everyone in here to know that I'm trans. I'm trans guy. And no I don't want any weird questions. Google it."

Moments later, a few chuckles leave the now quiet hallway. But when Buffy moves forward and stands next to him, the laughs go quiet. Most likely because they saw what she did to Kira. 

"So no one has a problem,right?" He finishes, looking around, trying to hide his overwhelming sense of anxiety. But before long, the hallway chatter starts back up seemingly not fazed by the revelation. He feels better at the lack of reaction. 

The rest of his friends step closer. TJ goes and stands in front of him. "That was sudden."

"Well a lot of things came into perspective last night." Marty smiles.

"So...l I guess we are doing this coming out thing together?" TJ's voice is full of relief but will never admit to it if you ask him. He is just happy to be going  through this with his best friend.

"I guess so, man." He lets out an airy laugh through his nose.

"And you have all of us, too." Buffy says, taking her boyfriend's hand, with Cyrus nodding and doing the same to TJ. Andi and Jonah also smile in agreement.Marty realizes that in this moment,  it can really only get better from here.

Tag List: @abg-blah @kippens-a-goodman @purplefacey @thefaeriemagic3 @tyrus-is-everything

#andi mack #muffy #marty trans #trans!tj #tyrus #andi #jonah #cyrus

[shireness-says]

Playing the Part Epilogue: Superboy and the Invisible Girl (Reprise)

Summary: As a stage manager who’s clawed her way up from the bottom, Emma Swan can handle just about anything thrown her way. But does that include handsome lead actor Killian Jones? A CS Broadway AU.  Rated T. Also on AO3.  Prologue  Ch. 1  Ch. 2  Ch. 3Ch. 4  Ch. 5  Ch. 6  Ch. 7  Ch. 8  Ch. 9  Ch. 10  Ch. 11  Ch. 12 Ch. 13  Ch. 14  Ch. 15  Ch. 16  Ch. 17  Ch. 18

A/N: We made it, guys! Thanks for sticking with me through the slowest slow burn ever. I like to think it paid off.

Title taken from “Next to Normal”. Full disclosure, there is not a reprise of “Superboy and the Invisible Girl” in the musical. However, a reprise oftentimes takes the original song and builds upon it, adding extra verses to show development in plot. It seemed appropriate for this chapter, which has echoes of Chapter 13 (Also called Superboy and the Invisible Girl).

One last round of thanks to @snidgetsafan for her beta services, and an extra thank you to everyone who’s reblogged, liked, commented, or messaged me about this!

Tags: @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, @thejollyroger-writer, @mythologicalmango, @onceuponaprincessworld, @idristardis, @teamhook, @courtorderedcake, @aerica13, @revanmeetra87, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes, @mystrangedarkson

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this sappy conclusion!

Four years later

“Welcome back to Sign Off, everybody!”

Emma knows that Killian will do his ear scratch when he finds her watching his segment, but she wouldn’t miss this for the world. It��s like reliving a little bit of their history. Plus, it’s not every day that your spouse is on national television; skipping this would earn her “Bad Wife” points, or something.

He’s still bashful as he walks out, still kind of ducks his head when he waves and acts like he’s embarrassed to be there. You’d think after several years of magazine interviews and newspaper profiles and talk show appearances he’d lose some of that shyness and uncertainty, or at least get used to it, but some things never change. It’s a damn good thing she finds it cute.

Archie is as charming as ever, shaking Killian’s hand with an enthusiasm usually reserved for inside jokes. That’s just who the host is, though. “So, it’s been a while since we saw you last. I hear a few things have happened.”

“Oh, just a few.”

Hopper starts pulling out photos. “Pride and Prejudice was a hit.”

“Yes, a great group effort. They just closed a few months ago, congrats to everyone involved.”

The host shows a picture from his Tony speech. “You won a Tony for playing Mr. Darcy.”

“So they tell me. My brother kidnapped the statue.”

(That’s only halfway true. Yes, Liam had taken the statue for a while, setting up a popular Instagram account to display all the places he took the golden figure. One of those places had been Henry’s 6th grade English class, turning her son into a middle school celebrity for a couple of months. Though bringing Liam and Killian along with the award probably had something to do with that, too.)

Emma can just spot the Tony now from where she sits, bookending a cluster of novels on the top shelf of the bookshelf in her and Killian’s apartment. It had been a little bittersweet, leaving her old apartment where she and Henry had both grown and flourished, but she and Killian had both agreed that they would need more space. It’s worth it, anyways, to wake up next to Killian every day in a place that’s theirs. Emma misses living next door to Elsa some days, but now that Henry’s fifteen her supervision isn’t quite so needed anymore anyways. It would have come to an end regardless when Elsa had moved in with Liam in his fancy apartment. Emma instead contents herself with the knowledge that Elsa’s job at the Met - her dream job, really - means she and Liam will be based in New York for the foreseeable future, even if the latter occasionally does have to leave for filming in other locations. Killian likes to joke about his brother and Elsa “living in sin”, like they hadn’t done the same thing, but it does mean they still get to see Liam and Elsa fairly often.

Her real Killian walks back into the living room at that point. “Oh Christ, not this drivel. Emma, I’m embarrassed enough as it is, let’s find something else to watch.” He may gripe and groan, but he still collapses onto the couch beside her, letting out an appreciative and exhausted sigh.

“Oh, I’m watching this, babe,” she replies, smiling over at Killian before burrowing her head into his side. She knows by this point that he’s all bark; he’s a pushover, really, especially where his family is concerned.

She must have missed the introduction of his latest movie project – an interesting project portraying Pan as the villain of Neverland with Killian playing Captain Hook as a misunderstood rogue – because there’s publicity stills up on the screen when she redirects her attention back that way.

“My stepson’s a little upset, really, because he had the idea first,” the Killian on the screen explains. “Which, trust me, was not the reaction I was hoping for.”

“Hey, that was almost funny,” Emma comments, nudging him in the side as the audience laughs.

“It’s embarrassing, is what it is,” Killian grouses. It must be that thing where actors don’t like seeing their own work - Emma’s read about that before. It’s not going to stop her from affectionately picking at him, though, and it’s not going to keep her from watching the whole thing.

“And on a personal note, does everyone remember this moment from last time?” Archie asks, cutting to the clip of Killian talking about a certain prickly and dedicated stage manager. When the camera cuts back, she knows what’s coming, and smiles when she feels Killian press a kiss to her head as the host pulls out a copy of their wedding photo. “Well good news to all those shipping that on the internet, because you two tied the knot!” The audience cheers, and as Emma watches televised Killian grin widely, she thinks that’s the most comfortable she’s ever seen him in an interview. “Now, how long have you two been married now?”

“Coming up on two years, three months from now.”

He’d proposed one evening when Emma had least expected it. They’d talked about marriage before - considering that they were living together and in a committed relationship, having that conversation seemed like the responsible thing to do - but it had been a lovely surprise all the same. Killian had been waiting with the ring when she got home from work on a Wednesday, on bended knee and everything in their little foyer with Henry filming just around the corner. Killian had explained later, after the yes and the ring and an awful lot of kissing, that it had seemed important to make his proposal a family affair and include Henry. He loves her son, just as much as he loves her (albeit in a different way); Emma knows that, but it still means a lot that he’d included her son in their major life moment in that way. Henry had been a part of their love story, after all.

(Emma suspects that there may have been a conversation between Killian and Henry before the proposal as well where Killian had asked her son for her hand, but neither of them has ever fessed up to it, and she’s okay with leaving that as a man-to-man moment if they prefer it.)

The wedding had been a low-key affair, much to Mary Margaret’s dismay - just a little courthouse ceremony. Emma had never been the big white wedding type, though, had never had those dreams as a child. Now that she’s faced with the opportunity for all that, she finds that she doesn’t really want or need it. At the end of the day, they just want to be married; they love each other, almost to distraction, and waiting any longer than absolutely necessary feels like too great a burden.

Still, they’d done it up as much as the quick circumstances allowed. Emma had bought a clearance wedding dress that swished around her calves, and Killian had taken Henry to get a nice suit - his first, the sleeves and legs given extra length to be let out as the growth spurt from hell inevitably continued so they could get more than one use out of the damn thing. They had even arranged for a bouquet and boutonnières, even if Emma doesn’t know anything about flowers. As soon as Liam had arrived back in the city from filming in Atlanta, they had gathered all their friends and family on a dark Monday and made it official.

Henry stood as Best Man. Mary Margaret cried. Ruby wolf-whistled. And Emma had never been happier as Killian dipped her into a dramatic kiss.

“Are you happy, my love?” he’d whispered into her ear later at Granny’s. The older woman had gladly donated her diner for the reception, closing for the occasion so they could all eat cake and dance to jukebox hits.

“What do you think?” she’d quipped right back, before laughing and drawing him down into a kiss. It feels like they’ve come full circle; it feels like home.

(She may still be Emma Swan professionally, but there’s a certain thrill to hearing Mrs. Jones.)

“And one more thing…” Archie continues on the TV, drawing Emma’s attention back to the screen. If possible, televised Killian grins even wider: if what she thinks is about to happen is actually about to happen, she doesn’t blame him in the least. “… You two had a little girl.” The photo on the screen is a sweet one of her little fingers curled around Killian’s thumb. Emma knows it well; it hangs in the nursery, right next to the rocker where Emma’s lately been spending what feels like half her nights.

“We did. She just turned five months old last week.”

“And her name? If you guys are ok to announce it.”

“Hazel Elizabeth Jones.” The audience aws, which the tiny baby propped in her Papa’s arms here in their living room seems to find objectionable as she starts squirming and snuffling. “Emma and I thought it would be appropriate to pay homage to the show where we met.”

They’d had it in mind from the start, ever since they’d found out they were having a girl. There’d been a good bit of debate and waffling back and forth about the first name, but they’d always agreed on Elizabeth for the middle. Hazel hadn’t actually been on the shortlist, just something that’d they’d discussed and put aside, but then she’d arrived - six pounds four ounces, dark hair, loud cry, perfect, and it had just… fit. If there’s one thing Emma’s learned since Killian, it’s not to question a good thing.

Parenting now, 15 years after her first child, is both easier and harder. There’s an exhaustion that comes with age that’s only compounded by caring for an infant. It helps though, more than she can ever describe, to have a partner in this, not to mention a secure housing and financial situation. Killian’s a great dad - to both her children, really - and it’s a particular joy to watch him with their baby.

“You’re okay, lass, you’re okay,” he murmurs now, bouncing their daughter against his chest to attempt to calm her down. It works, thank God; Henry’s been great about all the changes in their lives and is lucky enough to sleep through almost everything, but Emma still doesn’t like taking that chance on a school night.

“Little drama queen,” Emma murmurs affectionately, tweaking a little sock-clad foot. She’d forgotten just how tiny everything about babies is somewhere in the decade and a half between Henry and Hazel, but has loved rediscovering it.

“Maybe she’ll be an actor like Papa one day,” Killian suggests, quirking a teasing eyebrow in Emma’s direction.

She snorts. “Not if Mom has any say in it.”

“What, you don’t think we need more actors in this family?” His tone conveys mock-insult, but Emma can see that twinkle in his eye that means he’s joking.

“Nah, she’s gonna be a techie. I can feel it.”

Emma can faintly hear Archie offerings his congratulations and asking about Killian’s upcoming turn as Harold Hill in a televised performance of The Music Man, but she’s not really paying attention anymore, too preoccupied with this moment with her little family. Maybe that was Killian’s devious plan all along - distract her from his talk show appearance with their very cute baby. She can’t really complain about that.

“Ah, well, I suppose I can’t argue that,” he concedes. “Not when her mother’s so brilliant at it.”

Even after all this time, a compliment from Killian can still make her blush. He knows it, too, which only makes him do it more. She loves that about him, though. Suddenly, it seems very important that she express that very fact.

“I love you, Killian.” She’s said it hundreds, thousands of times before, but it still strikes her with wonder every time, just how much she loves the man sitting next to her.

“I love you too, my Swan,” he replies, placing a careful kiss on her lips while trying not to jostle the baby.

Though Emma knew accepting that stage managing job almost five years ago now would change her life, she never imagined in a million years that she’d end up here, with a husband and baby and her son sleeping just down the hall in a life better than she ever could have fathomed.

She wouldn’t change a thing.

#cs ff #captain swan #my writing #Playing the Part #Superboy and the Invisible Girl (Reprise) #Broadway AU #stage manager!Emma #actor!Killian #and some major life developments #its bittersweet to see this one end #but i'm really proud of how its turned out