#Bone Drill dealers

[nifolution]

Love Me Again

Pairing: Jake Jensen / Plus-size Reader

Summary: Jake was back, but the Loser’s sixth member is still M.I.A.

Warnings: fluff, angst, feels, bad attempt at humor, guns, killings, mention of memory loss, post breakup, enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a revised copy of my oc fic. It is still written in 3rd person. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.

You Loved Me Once    Main Masterlist     

Clay’s unit awaited him in a motel parking lot in Adelaide. He secured their post mission rooms and returned keys in hand. "Okay, I got good news and bad news... We can all look forward to hot showers, clean sheets, and a complimentary breakfast. However, there were only three rooms available, so we will have to share.”

The responding groans of protest were expected. “Would you prefer to sleep on the ground for another night? No? So shut your pieholes.” Clay pocketed one of the keycards and set the remaining on the vehicle in front of him. “Aisha will be sharing with me. One room has a king, the other two double beds. Work it out amongst yourselves.”

Wordlessly, Jensen, Cougar and Pooch launched into a game of rock paper scissors. It had been weeks of travel, tents and living on top of one another. The victor cheered, scooping up the keycard to the private room.

“No! Come on, best two out of three.” When his friend shook his head, Jensen changed tactics, “I’ll give you that bitching crossbow I got last op if you switch with me… my watch… a hundred bucks. I’ll even throw in a foot massager, top of the line.”

“No way man. I need a night to myself. The Pooch has earned this.”

Jensen hung his head, accepting defeat. Bunking with his bestie wasn’t so bad, at least there were separate beds. Sharing one with Cougar wasn’t fun, the man was a cover hog. Jake was still grateful Clay reinstated him eight months ago. His teammates were ambivalent about him at first, but eventually everything returned to normal. Well, almost everything.

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

The Loser’s current operation led them to South Australia. They’d been hired by a distraught (and wealthy) father as part of a rescue team. He hadn’t seen nor heard from his daughter, Isla, in two years. She had been kidnapped by an illegal arms dealer who forced her into marriage. All prior attempts to get her back had failed. No amount of negotiation, payment, threats or pleading could sway the nefarious man to return her.

A rendezvous with the rest of the group at their makeshift campsite, plus a thirty minute drive east put the Humvees at the perimeter of the target’s estate. “Alright, you all know the drill,” Clay barked into the comms. “We get our asses in there, extricate the woman, send her back to her daddy, and take down anyone that stands in our way.”

Meanwhile their tech genius had already hacked into the system to disable the security and jam communications. Once the cameras powered down, Pooch floored it, ramming through the gate, the other two vehicles followed close behind.

“Eww... This guy’s got raptors picking at a bunch of bones and sinew on his property, always a good sign. You’d think he'd want to be more inconspicuous.”

Pooch’s face scrunched up at the image, “Pretty sure that's just a dead animal.”

Jake shook his head, pursing his lips in mock disapproval. “There's a lot of places to bury a body in a vineyard, all I’m saying. Keep the place tidy.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Aisha deadpanned.

“What do you call that… carrion, right?”

Clay grumbled from the front, “I'm close to calling it Jensen.”

“Yes, sir. I hear ya loud and clear. Shutting up…” he paused for dramatic effect, “now!”

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

“This whole goddamn thing’s going tits-up!” Clay had thought his team was prepared, ready to engage the moment they entered the property, but the intel their employer provided was crap. The location was more heavily armed than believed. His unit was at a disadvantage despite the extra help. Outmanned and outgunned, a few men were down and one lost within the first ten minutes.

“Well look at the bright side, we're outside enjoying some fresh...” Jensen’s quip went unfinished as he dove for cover. Incoming drones zoomed through the air spraying bullets. They must have been linked to an independent off sight system because the primary and secondary security had been obliterated. 

Jake focused the scope of his rifle, aiming at the nearest flying pest. “Here birdie birdie…” ‘Wait. That - that’s.’ Still in disbelief, he shouted, “Guys! Guys, that's one of Y/N’s drones!”

Pooch was skeptical, “How can you be sure?”

“Cause they’re like my step kids. Franny, Freddy, Felix, Frank and Foxy. It’s been painted, but that's Frank,” he insisted before taking off, sprinting toward the assailing device.

Clay eyes widened at the other man’s actions, “Jensen, you realize it's shooting at us! Stand down!” Seeing his order ignored, he screamed at the rest of his group, “Cover his dumb ass.”

Disregarding his boss, Cougar pulled out his cellphone and spoke in hushed tones to the person on the other end.

Aisha grit her teeth at her teammate while continuing to fire at their opponents. “That idiot lost his mind, now our sniper decides to make a phone call mid battle. Are you ordering a pizza?”

“Don't forget the breadsticks,” Pooch chimed in. Laughing at the increasing absurdity of the situation.

Jake removed his helmet and dropped his weapon. Frantically jumping and waving his arms, repeatedly calling out ‘Angel.’ A drone moved in and shot at his feet, before slightly pulling back, continuing to hover above him.

“Understood. Our apologies. Copy that.” Cougar hung up and waited.

The remaining drones collected above Jensen’s head. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. However the moment he dreaded never came. The devices turned and began taking out the guards with quick precision. When only Clay’s men remained, they flew off. 

Sticking to the plan, the team continued to the manor. Wary of a possible ambush awaiting beyond the front door, in lieu of breaking it down, Clay instructed Jensen and Cougar to go through the nearest second floor windows, clear the immediate area and let them in.

Cougar nodded, but walked right through the unlocked door instead. To everyone’s shock but his, it was clear. Raising his chin toward the staircase, he proceeded up them.

“Okay, so we're just following him then?”

Clay shrugged, “Good enough for me.” He had the Losers head upstairs, leaving the rest of the group to keep watch at the entrance.

Cougar seemingly knew exactly where to go. Navigating the twists and turns of the large house with ease. Any lingering guards they came across were swiftly handled. Within the master bedroom’s closet, hidden behind sliding shelving they found a 16-point locking, bullet resistant, biometric fingerprint panic room door. 

Before Jensen could get his gear out to crack it, Cougar tapped the scanner, confirming it was off. He pulled the heavy door open, immediately shooting the two guards inside as if he was expecting them.

Jensen scratched his head. Not knowing what to make of it. “What is going on?... Are you a T-1000… What's my dog's name?”

Cougar just looked at him and chuckled.

“You laugh, but I'm legitimately concerned.”

Clay took point, announcing his entrance into the room, “Honey, I'm home.”

The occupants sat on a couch, Isla held a crying baby in her arms, wincing from her husband's hand on her thigh, squeezing painfully tight. The baby’s presence gave everyone pause. No one was aware there would be a child involved. There has been one surprise after another today.

“You lost, asshole. Now let them go and come quietly.” Clay slung his rifle over his shoulder and moved toward them, attempting to calmly apprehend the man.

The target pulled out a gun, shoving it into Isla’s side. “Stay where you are.”

“Don't be like that. This doesn't have to get more ugly than it already is.”

Seething, the man turned the gun on Clay, who discharged his sidearm, firing two shots into the arms dealer’s chest before he could blink. The group hurriedly moved Isla and her baby out of the building into one of their vehicles. Assuring the frightened woman that she was safe and going back to her father.  Pooch voiced his concern over their lack of carseat.

“Then drive extra carefully.” Clay smiled at the rescuees, “Let's get you both home.”

Riding in the second Humvee, Jake stared down a silent Cougar. He offered no explanation as to why Y/N's drones were on the property or who he had called, but it was pretty easy to connect the dots.

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

Hours later, Isla and her daughter were safely on their way home. At Cougar’s request, and after a stop at the motel for much needed showers, the team waited at a bar in the city. Leaving one chair empty, correctly guessing who they should be expecting.

Jake was a bundle of nerves. The hand gripping his empty glass started to cramp as he watched the door. He wondered if they had Boys II Men on the jukebox to help set the mood. ‘Would that be too presumptuous? She probably moved on by now. Has a new special someone in her life. Somebody else loving her, touching her, making her laugh.’ He wouldn’t blame her. His amnesia may have been temporary, but the damage he caused wasn't.

“You stare at that door any harder and it will burst into flames.” Aisha refilled her teammates' glass, encouraging him to relax and breathe.

“She'll be here soon, won't she? She's still coming, right?”

Y/N took a deep breath before entering the tavern. Her former teammates were easy to spot. Cougar gave her his number when she quit, asking her to keep in touch. It took a few months before she found the strength to do so. Even after learning of her exs' recovery, she couldn't bring herself to return yet. She wanted her Jakey back, but was scared of his rejection. Plus she was on assignment, the timing was off. The weight of this reunion wasn’t lost on her. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you losers walk into mine.”

“Well that's unfair, you walked in after us.” Grinning ear to ear, Clay pulled her into a tight hug. “Missed ya, Y/N.”

“I had a few things to handle before getting here. So you beat me, but I've been dying to say it." She squeezed Clay tight before facing the rest. "I missed you all too. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t recognize you guys in all that fancy schmancy gear.”

Jake felt unsteady the moment she walked in, his blood roared in his ears. It was really her, his Angel, more gorgeous than ever. He watched her warm greeting with Clay, swallowing a lump in his throat. She was wearing the jacket he bought her. He hoped that was a good sign.

The group stood to welcome and embrace their former member. Jake waited through the exchange of pleasantries for his turn. Longing to throw his arms around his Angel and hold her close. It had been nearly a year since he’d done so. Ten months, three days and seventeen hours since he kissed her goodbye to go on that ill fated mission.

However, he noticed Y/N’s smile falter when their eyes met. Abandoning his desired hug, he forced a smile, awkwardly waved and sat back down.

“Hey Jake.” She crossed her arms, suddenly feeling self-conscious in front of her old love.

As everyone took their seats, Jensen glanced at the entrance then back at his Angel. “So are we um… waiting for anybody else?”

“Like who?”

“No-nobody. Nobody. Just wanted to make sure there was room for everybody. Everybody together again. It’s good to be together.” Jake took a long sip of his beer. His brain screamed with the knowledge that there was no boyfriend in the picture.

Y/N filled them in on her whereabouts since her departure. She’d gotten a job as private security for some rich asshole’s wife. Mostly involved keeping her in and others out. The winery was lovely, but the running of guns and heavier artillery, and the dabbling in human trafficking ruined the ambience. Of course, she knew he was dirty when she accepted the position, so Y/N did all she could to throw wrenches into his operations without being detected. Quietly dispersed his ill gotten gains into several hidden bank accounts, the biggest for Isla. She was helping the wife and baby prepare for a safe and covert escape. Simultaneously gathering evidence against the husband and his associates.

“It was all set to go down in a few days, and you guys just broke in and killed him. All that planning and hard work for nothing.” Y/N shoved Clay’s shoulder.

“Yeah, well it was the quickest way. Can’t argue that.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to let months of work go to complete waste. So I allowed you guys to be the heroes while I tied up some loose ends. That’s why I was late. Had to reroute the latest shipments, funnel the rest of the money to charities, victims and of course, a nice sum for myself. Scrubbed the camera footage and removed any evidence of us or Isla being there. Then I alerted the authorities to handle the rest. They’ll find all they need to take down the whole thing.” She took a deep breath, trilling her lips to exhale. “But I’m still mad at you about it.”

Aisha offered compensation, “I don’t think anyone here will object if you want in on the pallet of wine we rescued."

“Bold of you to assume I didn't take my own,” Y/N laughed.

After a few rounds, the Losers felt they were sufficiently caught up on each others lives. Pooch and Cougar announced they were going to play stripes and solids, inviting Aisha and Clay as their opponents. It was obvious that was an excuse to leave the ex-lovers alone.

Jake wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity. Putting on his most charming smile, he slid over next to Y/N. “G’day mate, fancy meeting you down unda. Maybe I can show you my down unda lata. I promise I'm koala-fied.” He tittered at his themed pickup line, but she didn't react. He desperately wanted to make her laugh. If she laughed, he knew things would be okay.

Trying to shake off the nervousness, he cleared his throat and continued his attempted seduction. “I like your jacket, where’d you get it?” He couldn’t backpedal fast enough seeing the alarmed look on her face. “Joke, really bad joke. Oh my god, I'm sorry. That was… Fuck,” he grimaced.

Y/N remained stiff and unsure. Wanting to give in to his flirting, but waiting for the other shoe to drop. The defeated look on Jake’s face broke her heart, so she attempted to bridge the divide with a safe topic, “How are Stephanie and Hannah?”

“They're good, they're good, um,” he scratched the back of neck, unsure how to proceed. His sister, having seen him at plenty of his worsts, forgave him instantly. His niece took a little bribery, but they were back to their usual shenanigans. “So, uh thanks for clearing the way for us back there, you know, after you shot at me.”

Her mouth dropped open, “Excuse me, I shot near you.”

“Tomato-tomahto.”

Cougar gestured with his eyes over to Jensen and Y/N, knowing he was striking out. Pooch got the hint. He called the man over and handed him his room key. Demanding he take it before he changed his mind. Jake practically ran back to the table to ask Y/N to his room to talk in private. He was amazed she agreed.

Aisha’s lips pursed watching the pair leave. “If he doesn't blow this, we'll have to put up with them being nauseatingly cute with each other again.”

“You don't want them to make up?” Clay rested his hands on her waist.

“I do,” she huffed. “Look, I don't know if I believe in that true love, princess bride, bullshit. But they are the closest I've ever seen to it... They belong together.”

“Agreed.”

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

The entire car ride to the motel passed in uncomfortable silence. Both anxious and unsure about the outcome of this night. Each stealing glances at the other. Jake noticed how hard her hand clenched around the steering wheel. Y/N caught sight of each time his hand reached for the radio before pulling away without turning it on.

Jake felt butterflies in his stomach as they pulled in the lot. Painful butterflies… Vampire butterflies. He drummed on his legs before hopping out of the vehicle. Y/N was quick to follow. They walked to the room without a word shared. Jake kept looking over his shoulder to make sure she was still with him. He swiped the keycard several times without success. The red light and negative beep mocking him. The twisting in his belly intensified. ‘Yep definitely vampire butterflies.’

Finally, the door flashed green and unlocked. He sauntered in, pretending to be calmer than he really was. Turning on the old Jensen charm, he bowed and waved his hand over the large bed. “Have a seat, m'lady. It’s not exactly the Ritz, but I hope it will be to your liking.”

“It's a nice room. We've stayed in much worse.” She spotted the bobblehead chihuahua on the nightstand, smiling coyly as she sat down. “So this is Pooch’s room?”

“Nah, it's mine. At least now it is.” He plopped down beside Y/N. “Sooo, how’ve ya been?”

“Good, until earlier today when I lost my job and residence cause some assholes charged in guns blazing.” Y/N sighed dramatically, “At least I can take solace in knowing Isla and her daughter are home safe. What about you?”

“I - I’m okay… most days. Um, so what's next for you? Seeing as how your life's been upended by a bunch of inconsiderate assholes.”

Y/N hummed, thinking of a response. “Well, I’ll have a lot of time on my hands, plus a bunch of money. So I'll probably make a few brothers and sisters for the F-team. Maybe one with a flamethrower.”

He turned to her with a lopsided grin. “That would be badass, like its maker.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered. He looked at her with such adoration, like she held all life's answers.  That, that was her Jakey.

“Looks like the possibilities are endless now that you're homeless and unemployed.” Jake’s eyes squeezed shut, cringing. Not meaning to sound so callous.

She snorted, “I'm sure I'll be fine. I always land on my feet.”

Jake breathed a sigh of relief that she found humor in the situation. “Definitely, definitely… But if you're interested, I know of a job opening. Fast paced, high stakes, danger… romance,” he whispered the last word, blushing. “It’s with a great bunch called the Losers. I could put in a good word for you. In fact, I'm sure the two of us could strong-arm the boss to agree to any demands we want.”

“I'd have to move back to the states.”

“If you need a place to stay, your key still works… I um, kept the house. After you quit, I kinda skipped town. Woke up in Ohio about a month later. At first I completely panicked cause I didn't know where you were or where I was. Then it hit me that I REALLY didn't know where you were… and it was all my fault,” his voice cracked, on the verge of crying.

Her head lowered, unable to hold back her own tears. ‘If I had only waited longer.’ “You must be so disappointed in me for not sticking it out when you weren't yourself. I tried, I swear I did, but it was too much. I should have been stronger and held on until you were you again. I’m so sorry, Jakey.”

“No, Angel no.” he wiped Y/N’s cheeks with his thumb. “There's nothing to forgive. You didn’t abandon me, I drove you away. I don't blame you at all. Hell, I deserved it. I was a total asshole.” Jake took a deep breath, “I was so angry… I was in pain, confused. I felt trapped with no room to breathe. Was sick of everybody telling me things I was supposed to already know. Telling me over and over to relax and let myself recover when I couldn't calm down to save my life. I kept fighting with my sister, was short with my niece, rude and snapped at everyone… And you got the worst of it… When I saw you, there was something there in the back of my mind, just out of reach. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew your presence made my headache worse. So I aimed my frustration at you and chased you off. I can't say how sorry I am.”

Y/N gently touched Jake’s head, running her fingers through his hair and rubbing small circles with her fingers. The urge to comfort him stronger than any apprehension she felt before.

Jake leaned into her touch, “It's all better now. I'm better… I wish this was a cartoon so you could've wacked me in the head again to reset my brain and stop all the bullshit I put everyone through.”

She pulled her hand away too soon. “I'm glad you're better… You really hurt me, Jake, but you have to know I already forgave you.”

His eyebrows shot up, “You have? That fast? Are you certain, I mean…"

“It took some time. Months to push through that pain, but I'd be the bigger jerk if I didn't take into consideration that it wasn't completely your fault. You literally had a doctor's note to prove it.” Y/N smiled at him, brushing away a few more escaped tears.

“So you don't hate me?”

“I could never hate you, Jakey. Do you hate me?”

“Impossible.”

“It's going to continue to sting for a while though.”

He nods in understanding. Jake got on his knees before her, taking her hands in his, his face more serious than she's ever seen him. “I need you to believe me when I say I have NEVER thought those horrible things about you. You didn't deserve any of the awful things I said and I swear I didn't mean them. You’re my perfect Angel and I love everything about you. Every curve, every line, each and every inch of beautiful skin because it’s yours. You are the most incredible person I ever met and I can't stand knowing that I made you feel otherwise for even a minute. Please say you believe me.”

“I do.”

Jake leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her lips. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have her back.

Y/N returned the brief kiss. This was a good start, but she was exhausted. “It’s been a long day. I don’t know about you, but I’m wiped out. Can we pretend, just for tonight, that we’re good? That everything is back to normal? We can work on us in the morning, and everyday after, but right now I just need you and unconsciousness.”

‘She wants to sleep here, in my bed, with me.’ Jake jumped up, enthusiastically agreeing. His pants down around his ankles in an instant.

Her face became heated at Jake’s sudden nudity. Y/N bit her lips, shyly telling him she was going to change in the bathroom.

Jake realized he was jumping the gun. He pulled up his batman boxers, removed his shoes and remaining clothing. He turned the toy dog around, just in case. “Sorry mini Pooch, no looky loos.”

Y/N walked out in panties and t-shirt, tugging it down in an attempt to hide more of herself as she skittered to the bed and got under the covers. Jake frowned, he needed to mend his Angel's heart, squash the insecurities he created. He scrambled up the bed, took his glasses off and sat them on the nightstand. Hesitating at the edge of the bed.

“You can come closer.”

He didn't need to be told twice, scooting over and joining her under the covers. He sat next to her, tentatively wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Intent on never leaving her side again. “Hey, tomorrow, do you want to check out this awesome mini golf course I found? Just the two of us.” The smile that adorned his face when she agreed fell. His voice lowered to a whisper, “I'm terrified of screwing this up.”

“So am I,” Y/N admitted, lacing her fingers with his.

Jake kissed the top of her head. “I don't think I ever told you.”

“Hmm?”

“The moment I knew this was it for me… Remember our first comic con together, we had that bet going on over how many people we could get to follow us doing the bunny hop around the convention center. I said five, you bet nine, and we ended up having thirty-five people in line behind us.” He chuckled at the memory. “We had Link, predator, three Spidermans, a wookiee in a bikini and just so many others. I was behind you, my hands on your hips having the time of my life. And there was a moment midjump, midlaugh, when you looked back at me, making sure I was having fun too, and I knew with absolute certainty that I was going to love you for the rest of my life. That you were the one for me and there'd never be anyone else. That hasn't changed.”

Y/N’s eyes watered, an unreadable expression on her face. Somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “I knew then too. Slowly throughout the day, then all at once in one defining moment. You were like a squirrel darting around, but you never lost me. You held my hand the whole time, squeezing it when you felt me get nervous. And when we parted for even a minute, you always found me. But the moment that sealed it was when we stopped for refreshments. I couldn't drink my water properly because of my costume and seeing my struggle, without a word, you slid behind the counter, grabbed a straw and placed it in my drink, holding it to my lips. It was something so small but so considerate. I've never had anyone be so sweet to me. I never had anyone look out for me like you did. I knew you were the one for me.”

Not trusting his voice, Jake kissed the hand he held.

“I love you, Jakey.”

His heart skipped a beat. “I love you, my Angel.” The reunited couple shared another kiss before lying down. Y/N snuggled into his chest and closed her eyes. Jake wrapped his arms around her. “Would it be wrong if I copped a feel right now?” 

She laughed, “I missed you so much.”

Jake blinked back tears. He thought he'd never hear that sound again. “I missed you more.”

A few peaceful minutes passed, her warm breath ghosting over his chest. He noticed she was trying to stay awake. Each time she began to drift, her eyes popped open to search for him. He rubbed her back to soothe her asleep. “I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere, Angel, I promise.” Jake made sure she was sleeping soundly, before he allowed himself to follow her into slumber. 

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

Heading to his original room to get his belongings, Pooch was halted by a hand on his shoulder. Cougar, refusing to let Jensen and Y/N be disturbed, turned his friend around and led him to their shared room.

Pooch glanced back with a frown, “I'll guess I’ll get it in the morning.”

Cougar nodded, smiled and patted his shoulder. Tomorrow was looking like a very good day. The Loser’s would be a full team once more and his best friend would have the love of his life back. He didn’t save his best man’s speech for nothing.

The End

A/N: Thank you to everyone that has read this version or the original. I appreciate you all. I’d love to know your thoughts.

Sequel: Love Me Forever

[hauntedjpegcollection]

terrible

wc: 8827 au: college au ch: benny, maran

Benny swiftly learns that college is nothing like the military.

Sometimes, he misses the rigidity. The ease of obedience that came with the Air Force, someone always there to tell him what to do even if the compromise to his person had always hurt. Sometimes, he still misses waking up at four in the morning, running PT drills until he threw up; a mans arm around his shoulders, someone laughing, him laughing, a Sergeant barking. Sometimes, he misses the organization and the routine as much as the frantic mania of a jet hanger. The noise that left him with a near permanent ring, at least in his left ear. He misses the smell of fuel and oil and the starchiness of his uniform.

Misses knowing exactly what he was doing.

He feels too old to be a freshmen; even if twenty-two is no where near old and his professors joke that a frontal lobe isn’t even finished until twenty-five. Benny had done his contracted five in the Air Force and then left and the military was paying for his Bachelors now, as they fucking should. They owed him.

And Benny loves college. Even if it’s scary. Even if he feels awkward and out of place and people mistake him for a few grades above—or worse, mistake him for a drug dealer so often he wonders if he should start actually dealing drugs. He loves the classes, loves learning, loves feeling exhausted all the time and living off coffee and cigarettes and most of all, Benny loves the parties.

They are the closest thing to a jet hanger he can get outside the military. Hectic and loud and rotten smelling—it’s these parties where he finds that he really does like drinking (even if he’d told himself he’d be different from—he’d be different, he’d avoid the alcohol for as long as he could). Beer goes down easy and he doesn’t get hungry and he finds himself a bottomless pit, endlessly able to drink and drink and drink. People think he’s funny, especially when he’s drinking and no one minds the stutter because they are all also drinking.

So he goes to the parties, as many as he can. Even the frat parties, where he obviously doesn’t belong.

“Pick a card,” Benny purrs playfully, two girls in front of him, giggling into their red solo cups. The music is almost too loud to hear what one of them says—she leans in close to try and tell it to his ear and he can smell her bright floral perfume. Benny imagines kissing her, imagines touching her waist and her shoulders and her throat. He’d really only started sleeping with women a few years ago that sometimes the attraction still felt startlingly new. He seeks them out at these parties especially, to feel his way around what he likes.

Benny fans the cards in his hands, performs a silly trick to shuffle them, listens to the girls laugh, feels almost just as intoxicated by their attention as he does the mostly rum and very little coke he’d just finished. The heavy, almost wet air inside the frat house presses and makes him sweaty, makes his hair as moppy and stringy as usual. The girl compliments the stupid shirt he has on, a graphic t-shirt he’d yanked from a thrift store without paying. He does another sleight of hand while they drink.

A heavy body presses up behind him—an instinct of pure fear makes Benny’s pupils dilate, something long remembered in a few broken bones scream at the surface of his not-fully-formed frontal lobe. His mouth dries as he twists his head to look over his shoulder.

Connor Alexander stands behind him, chest to Benny’s back, his eyes shiny with alcohol and cruel glee. Benny’s brain whirs like a computer, sorting Connor into categories; guy with two first names, lacrosse player, asshole, asshole, asshole.

“King of Spades,” Connor says, his breath smelling sharply of beer. Sour and tangy. Benny wants to get out from under him, but is trapped between Connor’s broad chest and the two girls in front of him. The girls seem excited with the lacrosse player there—Connor is big and pretty and popular and a senior, or super senior, whatever it means when someones been in college for far longer than they’re supposed to be.

Benny should hate Connor. Maybe he sort of does, maybe he hates Connor’s perfectly straight teeth (Benny has a crooked row, he smiles close lipped mostly so no one sees), hates his broad shoulders and his summer time tan and his big hands, one of which is closing around Benny’s shoulder. He should hate the way he smells, but he doesn’t, something boyish and pine and clean, even when he reeks of weed and alcohol too. Mostly, Benny hates himself for not hating Connor, who has always been an absolute prick to him.

“You’re n-not supposed to tell me the card,” Benny sneers, trying to shuffle his deck back together to keep it away from Connor. The last time he’d been at a party and some jock had zeroed in on him, the cards had been scattered everywhere for him to pick up. Near tears, cheeks burning, humiliated in a way he hadn’t felt since he was ten years old, while people laughed.

“This guy,” Connor says fondly, with a hint of condescension as his hand turns to an entire arm around Benny’s shoulder. “Man, it’s sweet you’re entertaining girls for me.”

Traitorously, they giggle.

“Someone h-has to,” Benny comments, shuffling the cards once more with ease of muscle memory. “I’m p-prepping them for the inevitable joy of yo-your presence and the endless discussion of sports, sports, yourself, sp-sp-sports again and then yourself. Here.” Benny finds the king of spades, holding it up between two fingers. The girls laugh, which makes Connor’s face go a dark red color. He has a pretty ‘Summer at Cape Cod’ sort of tan, so it’s more maroon than anything else. It was ruddy before from the drink, but now its worse and so is the glinting meanness to his eye.

Connor takes the card and licks it. Benny tries to ignore the strange stir in his stomach that mingles with the unwarranted violation against his property—then he reels when the card is slapped to his forehead. His feet sort of scramble against sticky hardwood floor, the heavy arm around his shoulders anchoring him to the humiliation. Benny’s lips pull back from his teeth, hands shoving at Connor’s chest to get away—the girls laugh and laugh and laugh.

When he finally does get free, the card flutters to the ground, lost to him, the deck now incomplete.

—

Benny drinks more.

He drinks so much that he is stumbling when he finds the bathroom. His hands sliding across the wall to keep himself mostly upright. Everything comes to him in tiny spurts of imagery. Wall, hand, bathroom door, open door, girl crying on the tub, girl leaving, him apologizing. Hands on the sink, holding himself upright. Mirror. Himself. His eyes, his creepy fucking eyes. He fishes into his pockets to try and find his sunglasses until he remembers why he’s in the bathroom.

The toilet is missing the entire lid and seat, so all he has to do is manhandle himself out his jeans and boxers—the release of pissing is long and satisfying. One hand holds the wall while he does, a drunken groan escaping him. His head feels clearer somehow, his sunglasses almost sliding off his nose to join the piss and toilet water. He stuffs himself back into his boxers, careens his way to the sink to wash his hands.

And the door to the bathroom bursts open.

“What the fuck?” Benny yelps, and then jumps back. He collides with the tub, falling down into it, head banging against the tile wall. Pain explodes viciously, white and blinding. A little kid inside himself cries at the pain, like it always does—he slips and slides against the sleek bathtub, legs floundering and kicking. Nausea rolls inside his stomach, alcohol splashing around his insides, no food to soak it up.

“Dude,” Connor laughs, his voice booming and echoing in such a small space. The music is a living heartbeat just outside the walls, a constant bum bum bum because it’s all house club techno something that Benny doesn’t like. He stares up, with giant and undeniably terrified eyes. The lock clicks behind Connor and Benny feels his insides churn. His heart jackrabbits, thunders against the calcium of his ribs until it crawls into his throat. Benny has been here before—no need to get jumped in a bathroom, to get hate crimed at a frat party—he thinks about the knife in his back pocket and if he can scare Connor away.

“Let me help.” Large hands wrap around his biceps and yank him up. Benny stumbles, the alcohol making everything inside him swimmy and unbalanced. His ear is ringing, like it usually is. His eyes dart everywhere, like little nuts and bolts on an axis, sliding around all oiled up.

“L-Leave me alone, man—let m-m-me go.” He hates how small and terrified that sounds. He wants to be big and intimidating and frightening, because he’s done being little. He’d just gotten tattoos over his forearms, because they looked scary and he liked that. The skin was still tender, still feeling bruised and sensitive.

“Relax, holy shit—dude, you’re geeked, did you take something?” Connor’s hands move from his biceps to his shoulders and one of them touches under his jaw. Benny feels stuttery and uneven, his chest moving rapidly. He wants to slap Connor’s hands away, to get out of the bathroom, to get back to his dorm, to fall asleep in his bed. His bed, how safe he felt, just in his bed alone. Something he owned, even if it belonged to the school, it was his. Benny’s sunglasses are pulled from his nose and set on the ceramic bathroom sink with a tiny tink sound.

“What th-the fuck?”

“Your eyes are so blue.”

“Fuck you.”

“Well,” Connor says, leaning back against the bathroom door. “It’s not a closet, but it works.”

“What?”

Big calloused hands take Benny’s face and pull. He stumbles into Connor, his own hands hands flattening on the bathroom door behind him. Their chests are warmly pressed together. His eyes stay open the entire time Connor kisses him, because he doesn’t know what else to do. He feels a tongue slipping into his mouth, tastes the burn of alcohol, the sweetness of spit. Benny’s eyes dart everywhere. He can see Connor’s blond eyelashes fluttering.

When they withdraw—or rather, Connor does because Benny had been yanked forward to begin with—warm breath fans his face. It makes him shiver, makes an uncomfortable part of his stomach burn. He clears his throat, resists licking his now wet lips.

“I thought you didn’t like me.” Benny is ashamed at how much of that is a whisper. His mouth feel bruised from how hard the kiss had been. Facial hair had scraped across his skin and now it burned.

“I don’t,” Connor snorts, eyes rolling. Benny is equally ashamed at the small hurt inside his heart at that; just the tiny crack that forms, knowing it’ll take so long to shove plaster in to seal it back up and keep it whole. Benny swallows and attempts to tug himself away, but Connor’s hands are still firmly attached to his face. He doesn’t go anywhere and the other man leans in once more. Benny shoves his hand up and across Connor’s mouth to keep them from kissing again.

“Man.” It’s drawled out in an annoyed tone, gorgeous hazel eyes rolling for a moment, hot air on Benny’s palm. “At least I’m being fucking honest with you. What, do you want me to lie? You’re weird. You’re hot but weird. You kind of creep me out sometimes and—”

He sputters a bit when Benny’s fingers slip past into his mouth to shut him up. Then his face slackens into something lusty. His tongue moves and Benny thinks this is not the first time Connor has done this—not this, finger sucking in a disgusting frat bathroom, college party, music in the background, drunk and high—but this as in, down low with someone who he knows wouldn’t say anything.

For a moment, Benny tries to pretend that’s empowering. It’s secretive and gross and isn’t that what he wants? This was easier, this was better even, this was like owning a part of Connor that he couldn’t ever deny.

You couldn’t unfuck someone.

So Benny pulls his hand away. And he leans in for them to kiss again.

—

When it’s over, they’re both quiet as they reassemble their clothes.

Benny struggles with his belt because he keeps missing a loop. The orgasm and alcohol make his hands awkward, his breathing still ragged, a tingly feeling across his entire body. He keeps leaning and nearly colliding with the bathroom wall, cursing under his breath as he fixes it over and over.

Connor reaches out and grasps his shoulder and smiles at him. It’s as gorgeous as ever, as untouchable by lower class as it can be, it’s the perfectly sculpted smile of a man who grew up with two rich parents that loved each other and got him braces at the first hint of a problem.

He says, “Thanks, I needed that.”

And Benny has no idea what to say back, so all he says is, “Sure.”

And then Connor leaves.

So Benny locks the door to the bathroom behind him and yanks his belt all the way off and throws it into the bathtub and leans his head against the wall. It’s cool to his feverish, drunk skin. After a moment of that, he takes his shirt off to wrap around his elbow. He slams it against the little window above the shower and luckily it doesn’t shatter—his elbow or the glass. It just pops out, like the caulking for it was crumbling anyway, not taken care of for years—it falls into the grass below the house and Benny finds it easy to shove himself through it. He’s still lean from the years of military service before this languid, hedonistic stint in school.

Ben lands on his back, a loud thump, a soft whoosh of air from his lungs and stares at the dark blanket of the sky above him as the music dulls even further. He’s glad to be away from it. The outside air makes him feel even more sober than the sex had. Grass tickles his bare torso, which reminds him he’s shirtless and when he sits up, he realizes he’s still very drunk. The entire world shifts and spins every which way, his head woozy and unstable. He manages to get the shirt back on and shove himself up from the grass. He only slides a few times.

Someone says his name off to the side and he waves.

He hits the sidewalk and stumbles. He tries to find his cigarettes and lighter in his pockets. Finds that he’d crushed the pack of cigarettes when he’d jumped from the fucking window, but one is still good enough to light and carry him home.

—

There are strings of Connor’s, because Benny never really stops going to the parties. As dirty as it feels, there’s something equally as intoxicating about it. Sometimes, when it starts to eat at him, Benny relies on the old familiar rationalization that has carried him so far in his life; his father would have fucking hated it.

His father would have killed him for it.

Good.

—

It doesn’t take very long for Benny to realize one degree isn’t enough. Something inside him is hungry and never satisfied and he can’t imagine a world that isn’t lectures and books and learning—so he reapplies and just keeps going. The military stops funding after four years (the irony that he’d given them five of his own, just for them to pay for only four is not lost on him), but he’s smart. Benny finds that he’s very smart, that cleverness takes him far. He gets scholarships and funding, he pinches pennies between meaningless jobs and his grades never slip.

Then he meets someone named Cael.

And for the first time in his entire life, Benny is suddenly dating someone. No more secret hook ups in bathrooms, closets, random strangers bedrooms. No more meeting people on easy dating apps for one night stands that are sometimes more than one night. No more Connor’s.

His grades still don’t slip.

Benny teaches them to ice skate because they’re from New Orleans and have never seen snow. They move into a place together and Cael decorates the kitchen and Benny admits to not knowing how to cook anything but minute rice. They sleep on the left side of the bed and he sleeps on the right. Cael sings in the shower. Benny picks up their favorite kind of beer on the way home and they watch shitty reality tv and eat pizza and both resolve to start working out because they’ve gained weight dating each other and it feels so normal. It feels so…wrong.

They last a little over a year, until Cael breaks up with him.

Spring makes Benny’s allergies atrocious, which explains the painful pressure behind his eyes. Cael tells him that he has an empty hole inside him that he keeps trying to fill with anything he can get his hands on, and that they don’t want to be shoved into some place dark and cold. Benny tells them to stop fucking therapy talking him—and they break up with him because he isn’t in touch with his emotions enough to justify dating anyone.

The irony is that he apartment hunts the day after and finds a place that some man named Jeb is renting under the table. He isn’t in touch with his emotions enough, but he can’t stand that they’ve left their fancy lavender soap in the shower. He can’t stand finding their hair ties everywhere. He can’t stomach the stain on his couch from where they’d dyed their hair and it had gotten little spots of bleach everywhere.

So he moves.

Then he meets Lark and Xavier.

—

And of course he fucks Xavier.

Not right away, because at first he thinks the two men are dating. They have an ease of affection that makes his skin itch. A polarity that keeps them spinning and revolving around each other, without a string of sex tied between them. Benny sort of hates them both for it, not that he’s without friendships. Few and far between friendships and occasionally they chafe with the desire to get close and he shoves them away and thinks of Cael telling him he’s got an empty black hole that he keeps trying to fill.

So of course he fucks Xavier, because Xavier is also incredibly beautiful and has big eyes that just scream ‘I’ll make you feel good’.

It’s fun—both of them sweaty and in his bed and covered in the little tell tale signs of mouths, biting and nipping and tasting. Xavier’s long body is bent over his mattress, hands grasping at sheets, pulling them free from the edges of the mattress. He has freckles everywhere, but they’re lighter on his lower back, where the sun must not kiss him nearly as often. His skin pinkens easily with enough pressure. Benny’s tattooed hands slide in appreciation over a tapered waist, over slim ribs.

When he bears forward, chest to back, Xavier makes a sound that veers too suddenly high and it causes Benny’s harsh thrusting to pause. His new room mate is more vocal than anything he was expecting or at all used to—it strokes a part of his ego that he wasn’t even aware of. It’d made everything more enthusiastic, more fast paced, this desire to get a louder sound on every slap of his hips forward, on every twist and different position he found Xavier easy to mold to.

Instead of continuing, he brushes sweat slicked red hair from Xavier’s temple.

“What?” he breathes. The sound is so breathy and sweet its almost distracting.

“Did that hurt?” Benny’s hand cups around the back of Xavier’s neck, massaging enough to watch pond colored eyes roll close.

“Uh,” Xavier pants, his cheeks flushed and shiny. A bead of sweat runs down from his temple to drip off his chin. He smiles that awfully pretty boy smile, eyes still closed. Benny feels warm affection blooming in his bloodstream that he isn’t entirely sure is purely sexual. “It’s—” Benny paws a hand forward, groping across Xavier’s chest and making him huff a laugh and a pleasurable little sound, grinding his forehead into the pillow. He places his mouth to a warm, slick shoulder.

“Tell me.”

“You’re sort of heavy,” Xavier admits.

“Are you calling m-me fat?”

Xavier starts to protest, but Benny leans himself back from the way he’d folded over Xavier. He hadn’t even realized that most of his weight was pressed down on the other man, that he’d truly pinned him to the bed like that—he liked the feeling of being bigger, of making someone else pliant beneath him but only if the other person liked it too. Benny shifts to one knee, the other raised and yanks Xavier’s hips back. This time, his sound is strangled, but deeply positive. His freckled back muscles flex and dance.

Benny pats him affectionately.

“Tell me wh-what you’re into, Xavier,” Benny says and for a moment, wonders if all this talk is making them both too soft to continue. Until his request for communication is met with an eagerness that drains them both to bone weary tiredness after all is said and done.

—

Over breakfast the next morning, they agree to not have sex again.

“Thanks,” Xavier says, sleepy eyed and smiling widely. He has a little bruise on his neck that’ll fade in a few days.

“One and done,” Benny replies, eating cereal like he’s never had a meal before, hunched over the table as if someone might try and take the Cheerio’s away from him.

“What’s one and done?” Lark asks, his athletic shorts making awful swishing sounds as he walks around the table to open the fridge. Xavier clears his throat and rubs knuckles against his cheek and his face goes so red it looks painful—and Benny doesn’t answer Lark, he just laughs manically and finishes his cereal.

—

It’s a year or so later when Maran is opening the door to his bedroom.

He looks surprised, as if he isn’t the one nosing around a strangers apartment. Lights from the party pour through the door frame, as does music and the loud energy of drunk people in a gathering. Somewhere between freshmen year (Connor) and the beginning of his Masters (Cael), Benny had stopped enjoying the parties. For some reason, they get thrown more often at his apartment; maybe because it’s bigger, or because the complex doesn’t complain or the cops never show up or because Lark is very popular.

Benny’s too tired to engage most of the time, and that night particularly, he’d been more concerned with cleaning his chemistry set.

“Oops,” Maran says, looking equally bewildered at himself for saying anything as he does for opening a random door. The light around him pools at his edges, his silhouette turning bright like he’s a drunk little angel. Benny can barely make out his features, but he’s seen them before. Knows those high cheek bones turn a pretty shade of red when he’s had too many fruit cocktails that Matilda or Xavier have made. Benny stares, sitting on his stolen lab stool, black gloves on his hands. He holds up tweezers that have a cotton swab pinched between them, as if he’s saying hello.

“I’ve only ever seen those in movies.” Maran dares to take another step into Benny’s room. He briefly wonders what his little sanctuary looks like in the eyes of a stranger. Messy, disorganized, refuge? From the party anyway. Was Maran looking for that? “It’s dark in here.”

“Mm,” Benny makes a humming, noncommittal sound.

They’ve not really been introduced, though they’ve technically met. They’ve been in the same room as each other once or twice, at least. Benny doesn’t like parties anymore, but he shows up for Matilda—because she was Matilda, so of course he does. And he’s seen Maran across the room, or in passing. He’s been on the receiving end of that big, pretty smile and felt his heart thump in ways it shouldn’t be thumping.

Maran came with Benji and Xavier was skittish about Benji (for reasons Benny could easily figure out), so no, Maran and Benny have not formally met.

And it’s starting to look like they’re not even meeting now, because Maran takes his step back. Looks like he might retreat into the party, back into the noise and alcohol and too many people. A prickling sensation crawls over Benny’s scalp, down the back of his neck. He tries to get his mouth working, but nothing happens, so instead he stands.

He points at the stool.

“Oh.” Maran steps toward it. “Are we about to do something fun?”

Benny ignores a very warm sensation that fills him from the stomach up. He clears his throat and points again—and Maran slowly lowers himself onto the stool. He sits just like Benny could imagine him sitting; hands around the front between his thighs, feet tucked behind on the stools bars. He swings his head back to look at Benny, who slowly removes his gloves. It could be a trick of the light (what little there is) that makes Maran’s eyes seem so shiny, watching the gloves get plucked away and tossed into bin.

Benny crouches in front of the mini fridge he has. He withdraws beakers filled with ominous looking liquid and returns to his desk and his chemistry set and the cute boy.

“Yunno—I’m sorry for barging in, like, intruding. On your—I’m assuming this is homework.” Maran seems to ramble when he’s nervous. Benny doesn’t mind, because his voice is nice. Very nice. Benny stands behind him and reaches over Maran’s shoulder to put the beaker down. It’s full of a dark brown, bubbly liquid. He puts another, full of clear, equally bubbly liquid down on the other side of him. For a moment, they’re touching. His biceps on Maran’s shoulders. Then he lets his arms drop.

“If y-you mix those, we’ll blow up.”

“Really?” He expects Maran to turn around, but instead he just drops his head back like it’s on a hinge. The top of his brightly dyed hair brushes Benny’s torso. His long, beautiful brown neck is exposed. Benny’s sweaty hands twitch at his sides. He feels like someone’s just walked through the library inside of him and selected a book, withdrew it just to blow dust off the pages and crack the spine.

“Highly to-toxic. Incredibly deadly. Drop a p-penny in and it’ll dissolve.”

“Which ones the penny again?” Maran asks, head falling forward to look at the two beakers. The nape of his neck is fuzzy with the smallest wisps of hair. His ears are pierced, the jewelry small but pretty. There’s a thin line of silver, a necklace that disappears underneath his shirt. Benny reaches over his shoulder once more and takes the one filled almost to the brim with black liquid.

When he lifts it to his mouth, Maran gasps. He turns his whole body on the stool, a sneakered foot pushing against the hardwood, and he reaches up. One hand touches Benny’s bare, tattooed forearm. He’s so warm. It’s dark in his room, the lighting soft and low because his eyes hate the light. Benny smiles as he gulps down the mysterious toxic liquid.

“Do you uh,” Maran’s throat bobs. “Do you drink the other one next and explode as a party trick?” It is so absolutely absurd that Benny sputters a laugh, tossing the beaker onto the desk. It rolls and rolls and rolls and clatters against the set. He puts both hands on Maran’s shoulders and leans so they’re looking at each other.

“It was root beer.”

“I can smell it.”

“What? Am I too close?” Benny grins, leaning in just a bit further. Maran doesn’t scoot back the way he expects, so they are too close right then. Instead, he smiles, his sweet drunk smile. It makes all the noise from the party disappear completely. Benny’s ears ring. Maybe not just from the jet damage. He fumbles a hand down Maran’s arm and then grasps the other mans palm and gives it a hard enough shake to jerk Maran back and forth.

“I’m Benny.”

And Maran says, “Hi, Ben.”

—

The beginning of Summer is unbearable. Heat comes quicker than the calendar predicts and the apartment becomes stuffy and disgusting with three men too hot to function. Windows are thrown open, fans are turned on, shirts discarded and tempers strung tight. It feels ominous to Benny, like there is something just on the horizon, a bubbling sort of storm that brews until it finally breaks the sky open.

He tries to keep to his room, where he has a window unit. Stands in front of it, hands on either side of the wall, lets the cool air hug around his torso. He never liked Summer.

The heat makes his hair worse, makes it clump together in strings. Makes him feel greasier than usual—he’s clean, he swears, he showers sometimes twice a day but it just sticks to him and now he’s just known for it. Being gross, being dirty. That’s Benny. Nasty. He swipes a tattooed palm down over his face and finds a shirt to throw on that’s big and comfortable, with a large rip at the collar. He contemplates staying in his darkly lit, air conditioned room, as he rips the collar further, tears the whole thing off and tosses it into the waste basket by his door.

But instead, he creeps his way to the living room, to the sounds of voices. Benny lingers for a moment, in the safety of the hallway, rocking back and forth on his heels, teeth indenting his lower lip. He holds his phone in front of himself, staring at the little text message that had pulled him out of hiding, out of air conditioning.

we got ice cream ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶ i got ur favorite flavor!!

Above that text are three more, details of Maran’s day, with those small wiggly things included. A good morning text with too many exclamation marks that he’s suddenly started receiving every day like clockwork, a picture of the sloppy breakfast sandwich he’d gotten (Benny had noted with no small amount of happiness that he recognized that sandwich, that they’d gotten them together only a few days ago), and a text far later in the afternoon that finally proclaimed that he and Benji were coming over.

Benny locks the phone and shoves it into his pocket but stays in the hallway. He recognizes voices and knows its not just Benji and Maran. Xavier, obviously, because if Benji exists in a place, Xavier is already there too. Lark, whose laugh is distinct in its short, huskiness. And then…someone else.

It’s strange to be scared in that moment. Benny can sometimes fool himself into thinking that fear isn’t a regular part of his day anymore, that he’s largely moved on. He’s far past twelve years old, but some sort of trauma to the brain has made him like a freakish animal that cannot control it’s hair trigger response to flee. He pictures himself like a deer, stupid enough to stand in the middle of the road, but terrified enough to run head first into trees and snap its own neck.

When he turns the corner into the living room, four people turn to look at him.

Maran and Benji don’t seem to mind sitting so close even in the heat, and Benny has to wonder if that’s because they’d grown up with never an inch or more between each other. So they’re together on the couch, Maran with one leg drawn up (too much bare thigh revealed, those God damn shorts), and Benji slouched beside him, with booted feet kicked before him. Xavier, despite being the tallest, seems easily comfortable sitting on the floor, elbows on the shitty coffee table Benny had stolen from a thrift store.

Lark perches on the arm of the other recliner, opposite side of the couch. He’s the only one that looks mostly unbothered by the heat, one of Benny’s own baseball hats on and turned backward, a peek of blond hair at the front. He’s not sweat slicked like Xavier, who looks drowned by the weather, and he doesn’t tug at his shirt collar the way Maran is—distracting Benny’s attention more than once.

“You’re being loud,” he finally complains.

“He’s alive!” Xavier proclaims, hands thrown into the air, face tilted to the ceiling. It makes Maran laugh, because he finds Xavier funny. Benny thinks Xavier is funny when he’s making Maran laugh. He yanks the fan’s head toward himself as he settles into the misshapen recliner beside the couch. “No, hey—I’m hotter than you, stop it.”

“Pfft,” the lone stranger in the living room’s suggestive snort makes Benny stare.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Xavier says bashfully, a tucked hand behind his neck. His cheeks are pink. Benny presses a socked foot against his bare freckled shoulder and gives him a playful enough push that Xavier grins sweetly and the pink drains away.

—

His name is Rex—which is a dogs name. Or the shortened version of a dinosaurs name. It might be a nickname and he might have explained the story behind it but Benny doesn’t listen. Quickly tunes that voice out the second it starts talking and finds it easy, because the heat just depletes him into the recliner anyway. He is melted STEM major, a puddle of advanced Chemistry minor.

Benny fiddles with his silver zippo lighter, not daring to actually strike it and bring even more heat into the living room. The constant anxious turning of it over and over in his hands makes Maran stare at him more than a few times. His quick glances become a constant for a moment before conversation gets strung between Xavier and Lark and Maran, obviously and then Dog Dinosaur Boy.

It’s only a few hours before night finally sweeps through and no one wants to turn on a light, as if that might ruin the little bit of cold darkness.

“The ice cream,” Maran says, launching himself from the couch. His familiarity with the apartment makes some part of Benny feel tender, oddly vulnerable, weirdly sublime. It twists something inside his chest, and his eyes stay following him. Maran’s in those unbelievably cute shorts, a shirt that’s too big and his dirty converses.

Though he knows it’s one deeply strange, perverse thought, Benny imagines himself yanking Maran’s legs into his lap and unlacing those white converses and pulling them away—he envisions leaning in to kiss clusters of freckles on a knee, sometimes skinned by skateboarding. He imagines his hand wrapping around a brown calf and raising it higher to kiss the sharp bone of an ankle. It’s such a blatantly sexual and somehow intimate fantasy that his face heats and he fumbles for his sunglasses in his pocket, despite how dark it is in the living room.

When Maran returns, Xavier and Benji retreat with their pints—and that’s nothing new. They often do, even though Xavier has nothing but fans in his bedroom and he runs hot like his blood is a degree warmer. Benji seems stalwart against heat, though and Xavier is so head over heels stupid in love he’d do just about anything for him (besides ask him out). Only, Maran doesn’t take the couch back, he perches beside Benny, handing down a pint and a spoon. It’s cool to his fingertips, but his shoulder brushes Maran twice and then nothing feels anything but warm after that.

“Salted caramel,” Maran says, slapping his own spoon directly onto the top of Benny’s ice cream. It makes a tiny pap sound. “You know—I figured you’d be a mint sort of man, Ben.”

“Gross,” Lark interjects.

“Agreed,” Rex chimes.

“Why’s that?” Benny asks, his eyes only on Maran, who also seems to only be looking at him. Benny can’t tell if that’s wishful thinking or not—for a while he’s assumed Maran has a crush on him. The sort of awkward, first crush a man gets on another man and isn’t sure if it’s real or not. Benny is too scared to find out, but he takes a slow bite of ice cream and Maran’s eyes skate away and to the ceiling and then down to the floor, his own spoon tap, tap, tapping against his lips.

“Y’don’t like sweets, really. Mint’s more refreshing, right?”

“Mint makes my skin itch,” Lark complains, with his shitty plain vanilla bean ice cream. Benny tries not to be annoyed with him, because Lark is still the only person in their entire circle who hasn’t noticed Xavier and Benji are moony over each other—and while he has no doubts Lark has a queer radar that never stops, he has so obviously not picked up on whatever small tension bubbles between Benny and Maran.

“They didn’t ha-have blue raspbe—berry?” As Benny asks, Maran looks down at his ice cream, tongue sliding across his lower lip to catch some. He shrugs. Something about the gesture is bashful, rounds his shoulders in a youthful way. See, I know your favorite too, Benny thinks, with smug satisfaction. He contemplates touching Maran’s thigh with his now cold hand, just to get a reaction from him, some sort of laugh or a squeak. He wishes they were alone, like Xavier and Benji.

“Cherry suits you, Maran,” Rex says smoothly.

It makes Benny snort, cool eyes on the other track star Lark’s dragged into their home. He’s very handsome. When he sweats, it looks misted and natural. Not greasy. Trailer park trashy. When Benny glances up to Maran, he expects the same level of petty annoyance at these awkward, bumbling flirtations. Like it would be an inside joke between them, something they could laugh about, in his room, in his room with the air conditioning, in the dark together—can you believe this guy? What a fucking loser?

Only Maran smiles. That chin tucked, big eyes looking from under his lashes, teeth indenting his lower lip smile. He uses his thumb to wipe away some of the ice cream on his mouth, his tongue touching the pad of his finger to clean it. Rex comes alive under that smile. He leans forward in excitement for that smile, elbows to his knees, spoon in his mouth, corners of his lips turned up. Benny can only imagine rows of straight, white teeth in that mouth.

He stands quick enough that Maran stumbles from the arm of the recliner. His dirty sneakers squeak on the hardwood as Benny retreats to the kitchen. It’s a good thing Benny’s ears are ringing, so he doesn’t have to hear whatever snide comment is made as he leaves.

—

You’re terrible at sharing, Isaac says. He’s smiling. It makes his eyes narrow and mischievous.

I don’t own much, Jonny rationalizes, his voice cracking around puberty painfully. I don’t want to lose anything.

—

Shame makes it too impossible to leave the kitchen, so he pretends that he wants to be there. Sits at the pub table, paperback spine cracked and folded so he can read with one hand. Lucky enough he’d left it on the counter when he’d come home from class to begin with—lucky more so that Xavier hadn’t neurotically cleaned the entire space hours earlier. Benny isn’t really reading. His eyes are skimming sentences, but they skip words. Nothing sticks. He isn’t thinking of anything even remotely related to the book.

Of course he’s aware of the presence inching into the kitchen behind him. Maran’s converses scuff on the tiled kitchen floor. Benny licks his finger tip and turns a page.

“Hi.”

He doesn’t answer.

There’s another scuffing sound. Cool air brushes against him as the freezer is opened. Then Maran is shuffling around the table. For a moment, it seems like he might sit down across from Benny, but then he simply stops and stands beside him. His hands keep moving from in front of him, fiddling with a gold bracelet that is strikingly beautiful against his dark skin, and then down behind his lower back. His knees switch and bend with weight shifting side to side.

“Haven’t seen you dip out all day,” Maran comments. Benny feels a brief surge of anxiety at how awkward he sounds—his voice pitched a little higher with worry. It makes Benny’s hand indent the slim paperback even harder. He doesn’t look up. “Benji get’s pretty bent up if he hasn’t had at least one, so—I mean cigarettes.”

“I’m trying to quit,” Benny mumbles, staring at his book.

“Yeah?” The one word sounds more like please than anything else. It feels rotten, Maran shuffling beside him, trying to ply him for attention. What does he want? Is that it? Just someone looking at him? Benny scrubs a hand down his face, sweat sliding down his throat. He’s disgusted by himself, thinking like that. Knowing Maran better than that. Two different emotions keep fighting for the most attention in his brain. Petulance and worry. It makes him nasty.

Benny finally pushes himself away from the table and stands. He means to answer with some sort of bite, but can’t say anything at all when Maran looks at him. It’s a quick flick, because he has his phone out.

“Wh-What are you looking at?”

“I got this weather app,” Maran explains, brows tilted upward. He looks nervous, even though he’s smiling. It mingles into something that twists Benny’s insides around like an angry fist is punching into him. “It—Well, it’s really fucking cool, Ben, actually. Can I show you?”

Maran, I would let you do anything, Benny thinks, even though all he does is continue staring. He slowly runs a hand down his own throat, wicking away sweat thats pooled in the hollow of his neck, at the top of a dagger tattoo. Maran’s eyes stay there longer than he’s ever stared at any part of Benny. Usually he is fast about trying to avert his gaze. Benny lifts a finger and taps his phone.

“It talks about cloud density—and light pollution near you—and uh, weather patterns. Right. I’ve been checking on it, today and—”

Their bodies bump together as Benny gets closer to look at his phone. The background is a pretty starry sky graphic. The font is cute and bubbly, pleasing to the eye in a way that Benny does not find pleasing at all. A small round planet with an adorable face that resembles those wiggly things Maran uses in his text messages has a dialogue box that says PERFECT WEATHER CONDITIONS FOR STAR SIGHT ❤

Lark and Rex talk in the living room, but they sound distant. Benny turns his head, his chin touching Maran’s shoulder.

“I wanted to look at—you told me about that constellation! That’s bright! And out there,” Maran waves his hand at the ceiling. The little planet on the phone screen blinks. It bounces slightly, in a constant, happy animation.

“Lyra,” Benny says quietly.

“Right, but you said it’s hard to see in a city. Because of—”

“Why do y-you wanna look at Lyra?”

“Because you told me about it.”

Oh God, he wants to kiss him. Benny wants to slam him into the refrigerator and kiss him. He wants to shove their bodies together and taste his tongue and hold him and squeeze him and bite him. He wants their faces so close they’re just breathing each others carbon dioxide until they’re stupid. And then he wants to kiss more. Instead, Benny just keeps staring at Maran.

“Do you want to,” Maran hooks a thumb over his shoulder, smiling. “Balcony?”

“Yes,” Benny says darkly.

—

Maran wasn’t wrong. He’s probably being such a bastard because this is just his second cigarette of the day—he’d not left the living room that entire evening as it bled into night. Like some strange sentry, he’d merely sat there, feeling tethered to this man in red shorts, as he leans against the balcony ledge. Maran stares up into the night sky. The wind makes his shirt billow slightly, around his boxy form. Benny lights a cigarette with little fanfare and sinks into the lawn chair on the balcony.

The nicotine thins his bloodstream immediately, makes him relax.

“I like when you do it like that,” Maran comments, chin tucked over his shoulder. His hands wrap around the metal railing. His toes brush the concrete of the balcony, drawing himself up on the strength in his considerable biceps. “Blow the smoke out and breathe it in like that. Looks like a trick.”

“I’m so impressive,” Benny sighs, kicking his socked feet out in front of him. He inhales hard on his cigarette, taps his cheek as he breathes out, blows rings that make Maran snort and roll his eyes.

“I think I can see it,” Maran says, pointing up above the awning of the balcony.

“Maybe.”

“No, really. I looked it up, to see it online first. I swear, it’s up there.”

“Of course sh-she is. But the city—Maran, stop it.”

Benny stands when Maran begins shimmying up the railing. One of his hands stay wrapped around the rail, the other with his phone open to his camera app, held up high.

“No, I swear, it’s just on the other side.”

“Maran, ge-get off the fucking railing.”

“C’mon, Ben, I just want a picture.”

“Maran.”

Benny shoves himself from the lawn chair. The cigarette drops from his mouth, drops the whole eight floors to the parking lot below. The cherry becomes tinier and tinier, sort of like a star blinking up in the sky. Benny wraps arms around Maran’s torso as he wiggles himself onto the railing.

His heart thunders in his ears, along with the ringing. His arms tighten harder, pushing Maran’s torso into his chest. He wears a little locket, a heart shaped trinket with the word ANGEL written on it. He smells so good, the scent of his sweat and body and the shirt he wears. Laundry and some sort of body spray. His muscles tense and flex underneath Benny’s grip.

His cheek presses to Maran’s chest, his own heaving with anxious breathes as Maran hefts himself up a little to get his picture. A warm hand wraps around the back of his neck for support. Fingers brush along sweaty skin, making Benny’s teeth gnash. He squeezes that much harder.

“Oh, I got it!” Ben pivots on his heels and tosses Maran down into the lawn chair. It skids backward just a bit. Maran’s smiling, cheeks dimpled, until Benny hunches forward. His hands wrap around the arms of the lawn chair, their faces inches apart.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Benny seethes through clenched teeth. His blood races in his ears, tingles along his entire circular system. He feels so nervous that his stomach hurts with it. He pictures Maran having slipped, falling, one sneaker caught on the railing, all that’s left of him. Benny’s fingers grasp the lawn chair harder. “Do you hear me? Don’t ever fucking do that again, Maran.”

They’re so close, he can feel breathing against his lips.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Maran whispers, his eyes roaming. They hit every point on Benny’s face. His eyes, his cheekbones, his nose, his mouth and up again. “I’m s—”

“Don’t apologize,” Benny snaps. He closes his eyes and leans forward just enough to touch their foreheads together before drawing away. “Just—Don’t f-fucking scare me like that.”

Maran’s repeated ‘okay’ is smaller. It’s not reprimanded small, it’s not scared small. There is, undeniably, some sort of sheen to his eyes, and a half smile to his plush lips. He puts knuckles to his mouth, looking down at his phone. His face falls immediately and he sags back into the chair. Only then does Benny realize he’s still leaning over him and move away. The heat all over his skin feels so much less like summer and more just Maran.

“What?”

“My picture turned out shite,” Maran complains. His lip juts. His brows knit. He looks so unbelievably adorable.

“You were leaning off a balcony.” The smile turns shy. Benny rolls his eyes and gestures for the balcony door.

“C’mon.”

—

Once back inside, they see brightly dyed orange hair and soft pastel blue hair. Matilda’s facial expression at Rex as she passes to the couch where Lark has laid himself out says everything Benny needs to know. He’ll delight in talking to her later about Lark’s terrible friends outside their circle.

“Do you like movies?” Rex asks Nomi as they pass to the front door of the apartment.

“Do people not like movies?” Nomi replies, in such a confused voice that it makes Benny smile.

—

Up on the roof, even in the middle of night as it is, it’s still just as hot. Benny finally gives in and strips off his shirt and tosses it to the side, where more lawn chairs are scattered. An empty cooler and a skateboard lounge beside the chairs. There’s a mattress that Xavier had dragged up his first year living there. The sheets are always somehow fresh—neat little freak. Benny flops himself down onto it, briefly starfished and happy.

Then Maran’s weight joins beside him. He’s trying very hard not to look at Benny, who tries very hard not to take that as a compliment. He shuffles over to give the other man more room to lay down as well. Then when he finally does, Benny lifts a hard and points.

“Oh,” Maran whispers. His voice is so sweet. So awe inspired and gentle. Benny is not even remotely looking up at his favorite constellation. He stares directly at Maran. His side profile is lovely. His full lips, his strong nose, defined brow. His hair is just starting to grow out a little. It’s been dyed recently. There’s always a bit of a lingering smell, chemicals and shampoo. Benny would give anything to put his nose right to Maran’s temple. To kiss him, underneath Lyra.

“There you go,” Benny says instead. “No suicide necessary.”

“I was not jumping!” Maran’s elbow nudges Benny’s bare ribs. He smiles and closes his eyes. “You had me, anyway. Wouldn’t fall. Not with—you were holding pretty tight.” He can feel the vibration of those words. He can read through them. Benny lays with his hands on his stomach, comfortable and hot.

“Maran,” he says.

“Mhm.”

“You’re st-still life guarding at th-hat shitty country club pool, right?”

“Green Acres? Yeah. Why?”

“Do you want t-to break into the pool with me to-tomorrow?”

The mattress wiggles. Maran himself, wiggles. He gets onto his side and Benny is forced to open his eyes and stare at those beautiful eyes, thick black lashes making them look so God damn fucking pretty. He has a freckly on the inside corner of his eyelid. Oh fuck him. He hurts. He makes Benny boil inside.

“Really?”

“Really, really.”

“Wicked,” Maran laughs. The stolen word from Xavier’s vocabulary makes Benny love him. They drift back into silence as Maran rolls back onto his back. The little app on his phone hadn’t been lying. The sky is completely clear of clouds. It is just one titan of a blanket, laying over them.

“Nomi wants to know if she can have the rest of your ice cream.”

Benny smiles ear to ear. He thinks of her blue hair curling around her ears, her perplexed look at dino-dog-boy. He thinks of the tiny mole she has right next to her left eye.

“Sure.”

“She also—uhm. She wants to know if she can come hang out.”

Benny rolls his head to the side and finds Maran no longer looking at the sky. They’re staring directly at one another now. Benny can see a flush rising on Maran’s cheeks, not weather warmed, but something else. He’s seen Maran with Nomi, the way he moves like an orbiting little meteor around her glow. Benny laughs, shaking his head.

“Tell her to come up s-so she can meet Lyra too.”

[niffala]

Love Me Again

Pairing: Jake Jensen / Plus-size OFC (Maisie)

Summary: Jake’s back, but the Loser’s sixth member is still M.I.A.

Warnings: fluff, angst, feels, bad attempt at humor, guns, killings, mention of memory loss, post breakup, enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a sequel to You Loved Me Once. Reader insert version found here. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated. 

You Loved Me Once    Main Masterlist     

Clay’s unit awaited him in a motel parking lot in Adelaide. He secured their post mission rooms and returned keys in hand. "Okay, I got good news and bad news... We can all look forward to hot showers, clean sheets, and a complimentary breakfast. However, there were only three rooms available, so we will have to share.”

The responding groans of protest were expected. “Would you prefer to sleep on the ground for another night? No? So shut your pieholes.” Clay pocketed one of the keycards and set the remaining on the vehicle in front of him. “Aisha will be sharing with me. One room has a king, the other two double beds. Work it out amongst yourselves.”

Wordlessly, Jensen, Cougar and Pooch launched into a game of rock paper scissors. It had been weeks of travel, tents and living on top of one another. The victor cheered, scooping up the keycard to the private room.

“No! Come on, best two out of three.” When his friend shook his head, Jensen changed tactics, “I’ll give you that bitching crossbow I got last op if you switch with me… my watch… a hundred bucks. I’ll even throw in a foot massager, top of the line.”

“No way man. I need a night to myself. The Pooch has earned this.”

Jensen hung his head, accepting defeat. Bunking with his bestie wasn’t so bad, at least there were separate beds. Sharing one with Cougar wasn’t fun, the man was a cover hog. Jake was still grateful Clay reinstated him eight months ago. His teammates were ambivalent about him at first, but eventually everything returned to normal. Well, almost everything.

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

The Loser’s current operation led them to South Australia. They’d been hired by a distraught (and wealthy) father as part of a rescue team. He hadn’t seen nor heard from his daughter, Isla, in two years. She had been kidnapped by an illegal arms dealer who forced her into marriage. All prior attempts to get her back had failed. No amount of negotiation, payment, threats or pleading could sway the nefarious man to return her.

A rendezvous with the rest of the group at their makeshift campsite, plus a thirty minute drive east put the Humvees at the perimeter of the target’s estate. “Alright, you all know the drill,” Clay barked into the comms. “We get our asses in there, extricate the woman, send her back to her daddy, and take down anyone that stands in our way.”

Meanwhile their tech genius had already hacked into the system to disable the security and jam communications. Once the cameras powered down, Pooch floored it, ramming through the gate, the other two vehicles followed close behind.

“Eww... This guy’s got raptors picking at a bunch of bones and sinew on his property, always a good sign. You’d think he'd want to be more inconspicuous.”

Pooch’s face scrunched up at the image, “Pretty sure that's just a dead animal.”

Jake shook his head, pursing his lips in mock disapproval. “There's a lot of places to bury a body in a vineyard, all I’m saying. Keep the place tidy.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Aisha deadpanned.

“What do you call that… carrion, right?”

Clay grumbled from the front, “I'm close to calling it Jensen.”

“Yes, sir. I hear ya loud and clear. Shutting up…” he paused for dramatic effect, “now!”

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

“This whole goddamn thing’s going tits-up!” Clay had thought his team was prepared, ready to engage the moment they entered the property, but the intel their employer provided was crap. The location was more heavily armed than believed. His unit was at a disadvantage despite the extra help. Outmanned and outgunned, a few men were down and one lost within the first ten minutes.

“Well look at the bright side, we're outside enjoying some fresh...” Jensen’s quip went unfinished as he dove for cover. Incoming drones zoomed through the air spraying bullets. They must have been linked to an independent off sight system because the primary and secondary security had been obliterated. 

Jake focused the scope of his rifle, aiming at the nearest flying pest. “Here birdie birdie…” ‘Wait. That - that’s.’ Still in disbelief, he shouted, “Guys! Guys, that's one of Maisie’s drones!”

Pooch was skeptical, “How can you be sure?”

“Cause they’re like my step kids. Franny, Freddy, Felix, Frank and Foxy. It’s been painted, but that's Frank,” he insisted before taking off, sprinting toward the assailing device.

Clay eyes widened at the other man’s actions, “Jensen, you realize it's shooting at us! Stand down!” Seeing his order ignored, he screamed at the rest of his group, “Cover his dumb ass.”

Disregarding his boss, Cougar pulled out his cellphone and spoke in hushed tones to the person on the other end.

Aisha grit her teeth at her teammate while continuing to fire at their opponents. “That idiot lost his mind, now our sniper decides to make a phone call mid battle. Are you ordering a pizza?”

“Don't forget the breadsticks,” Pooch chimed in. Laughing at the increasing absurdity of the situation.

Jake removed his helmet and dropped his weapon. Frantically jumping and waving his arms, repeatedly calling out ‘Angel.’ A drone moved in and shot at his feet, before slightly pulling back, continuing to hover above him.

“Understood. Our apologies. Copy that.” Cougar hung up and waited.

The remaining drones collected above Jensen’s head. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. However the moment he dreaded never came. The devices turned and began taking out the guards with quick precision. When only Clay’s men remained, they flew off. 

Sticking to the plan, the team continued to the manor. Wary of a possible ambush awaiting beyond the front door, in lieu of breaking it down, Clay instructed Jensen and Cougar to go through the nearest second floor windows, clear the immediate area and let them in.

Cougar nodded, but walked right through the unlocked door instead. To everyone’s shock but his, it was clear. Raising his chin toward the staircase, he proceeded up them.

“Okay, so we're just following him then?”

Clay shrugged, “Good enough for me.” He had the Losers head upstairs, leaving the rest of the group to keep watch at the entrance.

Cougar seemingly knew exactly where to go. Navigating the twists and turns of the large house with ease. Any lingering guards they came across were swiftly handled. Within the master bedroom’s closet, hidden behind sliding shelving they found a 16-point locking, bullet resistant, biometric fingerprint panic room door. 

Before Jensen could get his gear out to crack it, Cougar tapped the scanner, confirming it was off. He pulled the heavy door open, immediately shooting the two guards inside as if he was expecting them.

Jensen scratched his head. Not knowing what to make of it. “What is going on?... Are you a T-1000… What's my dog's name?”

Cougar just looked at him and chuckled.

“You laugh, but I'm legitimately concerned.”

Clay took point, announcing his entrance into the room, “Honey, I'm home.”

The occupants sat on a couch, Isla held a crying baby in her arms, wincing from her husband's hand on her thigh, squeezing painfully tight. The baby’s presence gave everyone pause. No one was aware there would be a child involved. There has been one surprise after another today.

“You lost, asshole. Now let them go and come quietly.” Clay slung his rifle over his shoulder and moved toward them, attempting to calmly apprehend the man.

The target pulled out a gun, shoving it into Isla’s side. “Stay where you are.”

“Don't be like that. This doesn't have to get more ugly than it already is.”

Seething, the man turned the gun on Clay, who discharged his sidearm, firing two shots into the arms dealer’s chest before he could blink. The group hurriedly moved Isla and her baby out of the building into one of their vehicles. Assuring the frightened woman that she was safe and going back to her father.  Pooch voiced his concern over their lack of carseat.

“Then drive extra carefully.” Clay smiled at the rescuees, “Let's get you both home.”

Riding in the second Humvee, Jake stared down a silent Cougar. He offered no explanation as to why Maisie's drones were on the property or who he had called, but it was pretty easy to connect the dots.

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

Hours later, Isla and her daughter were safely on their way home. At Cougar’s request, and after a stop at the motel for much needed showers, the team waited at a bar in the city. Leaving one chair empty, correctly guessing who they should be expecting.

Jake was a bundle of nerves. The hand gripping his empty glass started to cramp as he watched the door. He wondered if they had Boys II Men on the jukebox to help set the mood. ‘Would that be too presumptuous? She probably moved on by now. Has a new special someone in her life. Somebody else loving her, touching her, making her laugh.’ He wouldn’t blame her. His amnesia may have been temporary, but the damage he caused wasn't.

“You stare at that door any harder and it will burst into flames.” Aisha refilled her teammates' glass, encouraging him to relax and breathe.

“She'll be here soon, won't she? She's still coming, right?”

Maisie took a deep breath before entering the tavern. Her former teammates were easy to spot. Cougar gave her his number when she quit, asking her to keep in touch. It took a few months before she found the strength to do so. Even after learning of her exs' recovery, she couldn't bring herself to return yet. She wanted her Jakey back, but was scared of his rejection. Plus she was on assignment, the timing was off. The weight of this reunion wasn’t lost on her. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you losers walk into mine.”

“Well that's unfair, you walked in after us.” Grinning ear to ear, Clay pulled her into a tight hug. “Missed ya, Maise.”

“I had a few things to handle before getting here. So you beat me, but I've been dying to say it." She squeezed Clay tight before facing the rest. "I missed you all too. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t recognize you guys in all that fancy schmancy gear.”

Jake felt unsteady the moment she walked in, his blood roared in his ears. It was really her, his Angel, more gorgeous than ever. He watched her warm greeting with Clay, swallowing a lump in his throat. She was wearing the jacket he bought her. He hoped that was a good sign.

The group stood to welcome and embrace their former member. Jake waited through the exchange of pleasantries for his turn. Longing to throw his arms around his Angel and hold her close. It had been nearly a year since he’d done so. Ten months, three days and seventeen hours since he kissed her goodbye to go on that ill fated mission.

However, he noticed Maisie’s smile falter when their eyes met. Abandoning his desired hug, he forced a smile, awkwardly waved and sat back down.

“Hey Jake.” She crossed her arms, suddenly feeling self-conscious in front of her old love.

As everyone took their seats, Jensen glanced at the entrance then back at his Angel. “So are we um… waiting for anybody else?”

“Like who?”

“No-nobody. Nobody. Just wanted to make sure there was room for everybody. Everybody together again. It’s good to be together.” Jake took a long sip of his beer. His brain screamed with the knowledge that there was no boyfriend in the picture.

Maisie filled them in on her whereabouts since her departure. She’d gotten a job as private security for some rich asshole’s wife. Mostly involved keeping her in and others out. The winery was lovely, but the running of guns and heavier artillery, and the dabbling in human trafficking ruined the ambience. Of course, she knew he was dirty when she accepted the position, so Maisie did all she could to throw wrenches into his operations without being detected. Quietly dispersed his ill gotten gains into several hidden bank accounts, the biggest for Isla. She was helping the wife and baby prepare for a safe and covert escape. Simultaneously gathering evidence against the husband and his associates.

“It was all set to go down in a few days, and you guys just broke in and killed him. All that planning and hard work for nothing.” Maisie shoved Clay’s shoulder.

“Yeah, well it was the quickest way. Can’t argue that.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to let months of work go to complete waste. So I allowed you guys to be the heroes while I tied up some loose ends. That’s why I was late. Had to reroute the latest shipments, funnel the rest of the money to charities, victims and of course, a nice sum for myself. Scrubbed the camera footage and removed any evidence of us or Isla being there. Then I alerted the authorities to handle the rest. They’ll find all they need to take down the whole thing.” She took a deep breath, trilling her lips to exhale. “But I’m still mad at you about it.”

Aisha offered compensation, “I don’t think anyone here will object if you want in on the pallet of wine we rescued."

“Bold of you to assume I didn't take my own,” Maisie laughed.

After a few rounds, the Losers felt they were sufficiently caught up on each others lives. Pooch and Cougar announced they were going to play stripes and solids, inviting Aisha and Clay as their opponents. It was obvious that was an excuse to leave the ex-lovers alone.

Jake wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity. Putting on his most charming smile, he slid over next to Maisie. “G’day mate, fancy meeting you down unda. Maybe I can show you my down unda lata. I promise I'm koala-fied.” He tittered at his themed pickup line, but she didn't react. He desperately wanted to make her laugh. If she laughed, he knew things would be okay.

Trying to shake off the nervousness, he cleared his throat and continued his attempted seduction. “I like your jacket, where’d you get it?” He couldn’t backpedal fast enough seeing the alarmed look on her face. “Joke, really bad joke. Oh my god, I'm sorry. That was… Fuck,” he grimaced.

Maisie remained stiff and unsure. Wanting to give in to his flirting, but waiting for the other shoe to drop. The defeated look on Jake’s face broke her heart, so she attempted to bridge the divide with a safe topic, “How are Stephanie and Hannah?”

“They're good, they're good, um,” he scratched the back of neck, unsure how to proceed. His sister, having seen him at plenty of his worsts, forgave him instantly. His niece took a little bribery, but they were back to their usual shenanigans. “So, uh thanks for clearing the way for us back there, you know, after you shot at me.”

Her mouth dropped open, “Excuse me, I shot near you.”

“Tomato-tomahto.”

Cougar gestured with his eyes over to Jensen and Maisie, knowing he was striking out. Pooch got the hint. He called the man over and handed him his room key. Demanding he take it before he changed his mind. Jake practically ran back to the table to ask Maisie to his room to talk in private. He was amazed she agreed.

Aisha’s lips pursed watching the pair leave. “If he doesn't blow this, we'll have to put up with them being nauseatingly cute with each other again.”

“You don't want them to make up?” Clay rested his hands on her waist.

“I do,” she huffed. “Look, I don't know if I believe in that true love, princess bride, bullshit. But they are the closest I've ever seen to it... They belong together.”

“Agreed.”

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

The entire car ride to the motel passed in uncomfortable silence. Both anxious and unsure about the outcome of this night. Each stealing glances at the other. Jake noticed how hard her hand clenched around the steering wheel. Maisie caught sight of each time his hand reached for the radio before pulling away without turning it on.

Jake felt butterflies in his stomach as they pulled in the lot. Painful butterflies… Vampire butterflies. He drummed on his legs before hopping out of the vehicle. Maisie was quick to follow. They walked to the room without a word shared. Jake kept looking over his shoulder to make sure she was still with him. He swiped the keycard several times without success. The red light and negative beep mocking him. The twisting in his belly intensified. ‘Yep definitely vampire butterflies.’

Finally, the door flashed green and unlocked. He sauntered in, pretending to be calmer than he really was. Turning on the old Jensen charm, he bowed and waved his hand over the large bed. “Have a seat, m'lady. It’s not exactly the Ritz, but I hope it will be to your liking.”

“It's a nice room. We've stayed in much worse.” She spotted the bobblehead chihuahua on the nightstand, smiling coyly as she sat down. “So this is Pooch’s room?”

“Nah, it's mine. At least now it is.” He plopped down beside Maisie. “Sooo, how’ve ya been?”

“Good, until earlier today when I lost my job and residence cause some assholes charged in guns blazing.” Maisie sighed dramatically, “At least I can take solace in knowing Isla and her daughter are home safe. What about you?”

“I - I’m okay… most days. Um, so what's next for you? Seeing as how your life's been upended by a bunch of inconsiderate assholes.”

Maisie hummed, thinking of a response. “Well, I’ll have a lot of time on my hands, plus a bunch of money. So I'll probably make a few brothers and sisters for the F-team. Maybe one with a flamethrower.”

He turned to her with a lopsided grin. “That would be badass, like its maker.”

Maisie’s heart fluttered. He looked at her with such adoration, like she held all life's answers.  That, that was her Jakey.

“Looks like the possibilities are endless now that you're homeless and unemployed.” Jake’s eyes squeezed shut, cringing. Not meaning to sound so callous.

She snorted, “I'm sure I'll be fine. I always land on my feet.”

Jake breathed a sigh of relief that she found humor in the situation. “Definitely, definitely… But if you're interested, I know of a job opening. Fast paced, high stakes, danger… romance,” he whispered the last word, blushing. “It’s with a great bunch called the Losers. I could put in a good word for you. In fact, I'm sure the two of us could strong-arm the boss to agree to any demands we want.”

“I'd have to move back to the states.”

“If you need a place to stay, your key still works… I um, kept the house. After you quit, I kinda skipped town. Woke up in Ohio about a month later. At first I completely panicked cause I didn't know where you were or where I was. Then it hit me that I REALLY didn't know where you were… and it was all my fault,” his voice cracked, on the verge of crying.

Her head lowered, unable to hold back her own tears. ‘If I had only waited longer.’ “You must be so disappointed in me for not sticking it out when you weren't yourself. I tried, I swear I did, but it was too much. I should have been stronger and held on until you were you again. I’m so sorry, Jakey.”

“No, Angel no.” he wiped Maisie’s cheeks with his thumb. “There's nothing to forgive. You didn’t abandon me, I drove you away. I don't blame you at all. Hell, I deserved it. I was a total asshole.” Jake took a deep breath, “I was so angry… I was in pain, confused. I felt trapped with no room to breathe. Was sick of everybody telling me things I was supposed to already know. Telling me over and over to relax and let myself recover when I couldn't calm down to save my life. I kept fighting with my sister, was short with my niece, rude and snapped at everyone… And you got the worst of it… When I saw you, there was something there in the back of my mind, just out of reach. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew your presence made my headache worse. So I aimed my frustration at you and chased you off. I can't say how sorry I am.”

Maisie gently touched Jake’s head, running her fingers through his hair and rubbing small circles with her fingers. The urge to comfort him stronger than any apprehension she felt before.

Jake leaned into her touch, “It's all better now. I'm better… I wish this was a cartoon so you could've wacked me in the head again to reset my brain and stop all the bullshit I put everyone through.”

She pulled her hand away too soon. “I'm glad you're better… You really hurt me, Jake, but you have to know I already forgave you.”

His eyebrows shot up, “You have? That fast? Are you certain, I mean…"

“It took some time. Months to push through that pain, but I'd be the bigger jerk if I didn't take into consideration that it wasn't completely your fault. You literally had a doctor's note to prove it.” Maisie smiled at him, brushing away a few more escaped tears.

“So you don't hate me?”

“I could never hate you, Jakey. Do you hate me?”

“Impossible.”

“It's going to continue to sting for a while though.”

He nods in understanding. Jake got on his knees before her, taking her hands in his, his face more serious than she's ever seen him. “I need you to believe me when I say I have NEVER thought those horrible things about you. You didn't deserve any of the awful things I said and I swear I didn't mean them. You’re my perfect Angel and I love everything about you. Every curve, every line, each and every inch of beautiful skin because it’s yours. You are the most incredible person I ever met and I can't stand knowing that I made you feel otherwise for even a minute. Please say you believe me.”

“I do.”

Jake leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her lips. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have her back.

Maisie returned the brief kiss. This was a good start, but she was exhausted. “It’s been a long day. I don’t know about you, but I’m wiped out. Can we pretend, just for tonight, that we’re good? That everything is back to normal? We can work on us in the morning, and everyday after, but right now I just need you and unconsciousness.”

‘She wants to sleep here, in my bed, with me.’ Jake jumped up, enthusiastically agreeing. His pants down around his ankles in an instant.

Her face became heated at Jake’s sudden nudity. Maisie bit her lips, shyly telling him she was going to change in the bathroom.

Jake realized he was jumping the gun. He pulled up his batman boxers, removed his shoes and remaining clothing. He turned the toy dog around, just in case. “Sorry mini Pooch, no looky loos.”

Maisie walked out in panties and t-shirt, tugging it down in an attempt to hide more of herself as she skittered to the bed and got under the covers. Jake frowned, he needed to mend his Angel's heart, squash the insecurities he created. He scrambled up the bed, took his glasses off and sat them on the nightstand. Hesitating at the edge of the bed.

“You can come closer.”

He didn't need to be told twice, scooting over and joining her under the covers. He sat next to her, tentatively wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Intent on never leaving her side again. “Hey, tomorrow, do you want to check out this awesome mini golf course I found? Just the two of us.” The smile that adorned his face when she agreed fell. His voice lowered to a whisper, “I'm terrified of screwing this up.”

“So am I,” Maisie admitted, lacing her fingers with his.

Jake kissed the top of her head. “I don't think I ever told you.”

“Hmm?”

“The moment I knew this was it for me… Remember our first comic con together, we had that bet going on over how many people we could get to follow us doing the bunny hop around the convention center. I said five, you bet nine, and we ended up having thirty-five people in line behind us.” He chuckled at the memory. “We had Link, predator, three Spidermans, a wookiee in a bikini and just so many others. I was behind you, my hands on your hips having the time of my life. And there was a moment midjump, midlaugh, when you looked back at me, making sure I was having fun too, and I knew with absolute certainty that I was going to love you for the rest of my life. That you were the one for me and there'd never be anyone else. That hasn't changed.”

Maisie’s eyes watered, an unreadable expression on her face. Somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “I knew then too. Slowly throughout the day, then all at once in one defining moment. You were like a squirrel darting around, but you never lost me. You held my hand the whole time, squeezing it when you felt me get nervous. And when we parted for even a minute, you always found me. But the moment that sealed it was when we stopped for refreshments. I couldn't drink my water properly because of my costume and seeing my struggle, without a word, you slid behind the counter, grabbed a straw and placed it in my drink, holding it to my lips. It was something so small but so considerate. I've never had anyone be so sweet to me. I never had anyone look out for me like you did. I knew you were the one for me.”

Not trusting his voice, Jake kissed the hand he held.

“I love you, Jakey.”

His heart skipped a beat. “I love you, my Angel.” The reunited couple shared another kiss before lying down. Maisie snuggled into his chest and closed her eyes. Jake wrapped his arms around her. “Would it be wrong if I copped a feel right now?” 

She laughed, “I missed you so much.”

Jake blinked back tears. He thought he'd never hear that sound again. “I missed you more.”

A few peaceful minutes passed, her warm breath ghosting over his chest. He noticed she was trying to stay awake. Each time she began to drift, her eyes popped open to search for him. He rubbed her back to soothe her asleep. “I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere, Angel, I promise.” Jake made sure she was sleeping soundly, before he allowed himself to follow her into slumber. 

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

Heading to his original room to get his belongings, Pooch was halted by a hand on his shoulder. Cougar, refusing to let Jensen and Maisie be disturbed, turned his friend around and led him to their shared room.

Pooch glanced back with a frown, “I'll guess I’ll get it in the morning.”

Cougar nodded, smiled and patted his shoulder. Tomorrow was looking like a very good day. The Loser’s would be a full team once more and his best friend would have the love of his life back. He didn’t save his best man’s speech for nothing.

The End

A/N: A special thank you to everyone that has read this. I appreciate you all and I’d love to know your thoughts.

Sequel: Love Me Forever

[fernyagalley]

((Don't Get It Tangled has been rebooted! You can help me by reblogging this!))

An egg and a stoner wander into an abandoned amusement park, hoping to find a Witch. If they just become the Witch's acolytes, maybe they can figure out what happened to their friend and rescue her! One catch: now, they have to fight the magical girls of Chicago, the Nebulossoms!

How are they going to react when they find out their missing friend is a Nebulossom themselves? Will either of them be the same person?

Play against the Dealer, a witchy storyteller with a bone to pick. As the Librarian, you are the only agent of free will in this fate-filled narrative disaster! It's CYOA with a side of sex, so it's time to explore some bad ends and drill down to the truth of this story! All sexual encounters are between 18+ characters.

[zooterchet]

Provisional Irish Republican Army (Provos, EON)

Confederate Southern Army: In the prequels, the Confederate Southern Army, was portrayed as Nixon; Finis Valorum.  It's the new trend in art, portraying California Republicans with a ZODIAC naval or airline draft unit, as racist white southerners supporting Lynyrd Skynyrd.

The MI-6 Poverty Draft: In the Nolan trilogy, the villains were portrayed as MI-6 from poverty, the CIA's operand; America now has access to calculus banking derivatives, a catalyst reaction removing from simple interest debt of the Mob (a foreign espionage estate owned, outside of the fire marshal, the Swastika).  Instead of using MI-6 solely as playwrights, Scientology (Hitler Youth) has been replaced with American spies.

The Foreign Aid Investment: Star Trek, has featured Karl Urban, "Bones", being the last survivor of a medical bay blowout; however his character, is oil economics, shutting down Cape Wind and making it popular for American university students to take energy classes, for power grids and disimproved power rates of appliances; the sales of poverty surplus, to the African community, outside of the Mossad's claim to be NSA; NSA, a MUD system, taught on the internet, and prior, in teacher's union games, DARPA.

Black Lives Matter: A new movement, out of the "Caucasian" pizza, the African distaste of tomato and deadly nightshade, behind the combined and private drug market rates, drug dealers paid as if upon wage, with an extended salary out of purchase of marijuana, signaled through sales of marijuana on the cleared market; the black market removed, as racketeering, through Synagogues; Nietzsche's work, refuted, and German opium sales by CVS, made illegal.

American Women's Union: The VOICE Australian union, forming through protection of women threatened with incarceration by British Diet forces in Japan, the Yakuza; the shutdown of pimping services of France and Germany, South Park Studios, and the removal of contract laws on those visiting dominatrixes, a return to the concept of prostitution as fetish.  Common economics laws, introduced to housing of employee in the blue collar industries, and the worker's rally removed, in favor of the women's rally; the armed female, with a handgun or rifle, not the gay man, the school shooter.  The forbidden term of homosexual, as Muslim, returned to the markets, and the common expulsion of the homosexual and their female friends, lesbians, from society and into poverty.

TV Tropes: The shutdown of the Iranian-Tehran Jewish claim of intellectual property for oil rights, and the removal of the retarded, those Germans rigging and claiming lottery bets, to obselescence, under Hungarian and Polish masters, to protect America's drilling rights.  The repetitive use of grocery store logic, on the internet, any using, attracted to claim of royalty contract under Stan Lee's internal housing logic; however rendered flabbergasted, at own claim of production as owned by self, instead of owned by commodity introduced with currency attached; labor of good, the payment and paid source of economy, for farm numbers; not seizure of digits of bank, the housing market in narcotics, for falsely produced work, the minor act on stage of theater.

Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer: The children's hero, as impossible to approach, and not based on any work of fit or form to recognize genome, type, or law, the common pederasty as accused of otherwise if placing a human being in a children's game or film, and the nullification of ramified suits of claim, to reveal the individual applying law as a homosexual; a queen, the poorest type of man or woman available, the incompetently tutored by parent, in suits of law of plaintiff having produced success in court.  The removal of Dr. Joshua Golden's office, by the shifted engram of selection of character, each character either picking Sullivan, in "The Departed", or forced into Costello, the spy for the British John Hancock firm, the Tong; the exploitation of American, Chinese, and African labor, for a division of community in white views of foreign culture; held around the dinner table, of racist households, the French and English.  A dominance of Irish power. 

[ozaseo]

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[chungathh]

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[rjnairblogs]

Bone Drill

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[hpdakshay]

Bone Drill

A Bone Drill Suppliers And Bone Drill Dealers in India. Only registered companies having valid license can list their products on Hospital Product Directory. This site does not own any product. Hospital Product Directory simply forward the requests to the registered company for getting quotations for the products, requested by users on Hospital Product Directory.

[hpdyash]

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[riya2220]

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[hospitaldirectory]

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[ozajobs]

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[flamingo-writes]

Would i maybe be able to request an eddie x reader where the reader is newish in town, moved into trailer park on her own and needed a new weed dealer so robin/steve sent her to eddie. After meeting a few times they realize they have a lot in common and there's obvious sexual and romantic tension. So when the reader gets locked out of her trailer in the pouring rain she ends up at eddies and spicyness or fluff ensues

I saw this ask right before heading to bed, and I swear I dreamed of this. I woke up and got started right away. Now that In ave finished this, I can now have breakfast and get ready to start my day. I NEEDED to write this before anything else happened.

Warnings: slight nsfw? Not explicit tho, but still sexy themes 😳🌚 Eddie being a dork (this is a warning ok?)

Made For You

Title based off I Was Made for Lovin’ You by KISS

Mixtape Masterlist

I love this gif, I could stare forever at this gif, his hair, his shirt, his everything!

“Shit, why today..." you wised softy as you gave up looking for your keys in your backpack.

Sighing deeply, you ran towards one of your neighbor's trailer hiding underneath the small roof they had, clothes soaked and shaking lightly as you hugged yourself in an attempt to warm yourself. The rain was falling violently, cold big drops that felt like they were drilling your body making you shiver to the bone, making the mission of looking for your keys the worst ordeal ever.

Wondering how much longer would you need to wait before going back to your trailer and sneak in through the window you usually left unlocked, you heard an engine growing closer and louder as you looked over your shoulder and saw Eddie’s van parking outside his trailer. Your heart skipping a beat, as you grabbed your backpack and threw it over your shoulder and sprint out of your safe spot, going back down under the freezing rain.

Among the chaotic rain blurring his sight, Eddie picked up a silhouette running towards him, and soon saw it was you. Frowning confused as to why the hell were you j Dee the rain, he moved to a side and opened the driver’s door.

"The fuck are you doing out there, dummy? Get in!" He yelled as you didn’t think twice about it, and got into his van, sitting behind the steering wheel and closed the door, catching your breath.

"Sugar, what the hell?" He asked with a cheeky grin as he looked at you, skin glistening with raindrops, and skin covered in goosebumps as he noticed the slight shivering.

"Locked myself out of my trailer again…” You sighed as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

"Great day to forget your keys, huh?"

"Next time I’ll make sure to check the weather before deciding to forget my keys…" You joked, making him chuckle softly.

"C’mon’ He said, jerking his head to a side as he grabbed his keys and opened the copilot door, jumping out of his van and rushing to his trailer. You looked at him and followed him, as he took a few seconds to open his trailer and let you walk in first before following you.

"Whew, shit, that’s cold, man" Eddie chuckled as you left your backpack by the door, "Welcome to Casa de Eddie, feel free to stay here until the rain stops and you can manage a way to get back into your trailer" Eddie said looking at you, his stare softening.

His heart raced slightly, as he thought about how of the many times he’d fantasized of bringing you to his place, but this never really occurred to him. However, he was not going to complain.

"Thank you," You whispered softly giving him a genuine grateful smile, making his heart skip a beat, and making him smile.

"No problem, sweetheart…" He said as he looked at you, remembering how your clothes were practically soaked and sticking to your body while his jacket was barely wet. "You should, probably take those off or you’ll catch a cold’ He said spinning in his toes as he went to his room.

Feeling slightly embarrassed by the mess his room was, if he’d knows this was going to happen, he would’ve tied up a little bit. And perhaps done some laundry, as he noticed he didn’t have much clean clothes, which reminded him the tiny fact that his uncle had asked him to do the laundry. He grabbed one of his hoodies, and since there wasn’t much where to choose from, he grabbed his last pair of clean pajama pants and walked back out of the living room, to find you still shaking and still by the door.

“Not the best outfit I could put together, but I haven’t done the laundry yet" He said with a slight shy smile on his lips as you giggled and grabbed. "Yo-you can use my room. Just…ignore the mess…Normally it’s not that bad…and I didn’t expect to bring such a pretty girl here today and—" You laughed softly looking at him amused, as you noticed the slight blush coloring his cheeks.

"It’s fine. Don’t worry, my room is messy always…" You said as you walked to his room.

It was easy to ignore the mess, as your heart was beating in your ears, and your stomach was about to burst with a million butterflies. The amount of posters in his walls catching your attention as you learned a little bit more of the guy who’d struck you shortly after moving to Hawkins. You felt some sort of relief that his metal head look didn’t just stop in his clothes and also had his room decorated as such. You didn’t know why, but you found it terribly endearing.

Taking off your cold wet clothes, you changed into his oversized Black Sabbath hoodie. Thinking this hoodie must be still big on him as it fit you ridiculously loose, almost working as a dress, as it covered your ass effortlessly. And god, the smell. There was the familiar and comforting smell of his cologne and smoke, and traces of weed. You looked at yourself in his mirror, feeling your body boiling as you saw yourself in his hoodie, making you wish you’d look just like this but perhaps under another context. You remembered this hoodie, the first time you bought weed from him, shortly after making it to Hawkins and Steve mentioning Eddie could get you weed. He had this hoodie on when you first met, and remembered that it did look big on him.

"But don’t engage with him, he’s trouble…and weird…" Steve had told you.

But you couldn’t help but fall head over heels for him after your first interaction. All of him screamed your type, he looked intimidating, but was actually gentle and polite, and as you two slowly became friends, and the more you learned about him, the harder it was to not be smitten.

"You there?" He asked, knocking in the door, breaking you from your thoughts as you flinched lightly.

"Ye-yeah…" You said walking towards the door, completely forgetting to put on his pajama pants, and just staying with his hoodie covering your body. "Sorry, I got distracted looking at your posters…"

His heart stopped, and he swore he died for a second and found himself in heaven when he saw you, evidently not wearing nothing but his hoodie. His heart raced, his jeans felt weirdly tighter, breathless and so stupidly in love.

"Whoa, darlin’, I’m all for women’s rights, and I reckon, I am in no position to tell you what to do, although you should’ve warned me though that you were going to ditch the pajamas…" His joke was more for himself to cope with the sudden raging hormones taking over him.

"Ah, shit! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!" You panicked, pulling his hoodie lower to cover your legs, suddenly too ashamed as you felt your face heating up and your heart going erratic.

The sudden flustered look you had made him laugh softly, as he grabbed you by the shoulders gently, calling your name.

"Babe, I’m messing with you" He giggled, his hands going to cup your face. "Hey, it’s cool, my hoodie is humongous on you, besides you usually wear cute little skirts and dresses to school…It’s. It like I’m seeing something new—" He said, stopping himself as he realized how bad his comment sounded, "Shit, sorry, I sounded like a total creep…" He said closing his eyes slightly embarrassed and letting go of your face. "I’m gonna stop talking now…"

Seeing him flustered, just like you, made your heart skip a beat as you felt slightly less ashamed, comforted by his reaction. You chuckled awkwardly.

"What a pair, huh?" You said. "I forget to put in pants, you sound like a weirdo…"

"Yeah, I guess we’re even now…" He sighed looking at you, not being able to deal with the sight of you wearing his clothes. God, he loved his Black Sabbath hoodie, but he liked it better in you, and he thought about you keeping it until your sweet perfume and soft smell of your shampoo got impregnated in it before asking for it back.

He called your name, although, was tasked by surprise when you called his just at the same time. The both of you giggling awkwardly as you exchanged shy stares. You clinging to his hoodie for dear life, as he felt his heart about to jump out of his throat.

Before anything else could happen, he seized his chance and cupped your face again in his hands as he pulled you closer, kissing you. Not really thinking what he was doing, and not realizing what he’d done until you moaned softly against his lips and kissed him back. His entire body tingling, senses hyper reactive and hyper focused on you, he felt like a virgin all over again as he melted against your lips. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards him as you hugged him back, squeezing your chest against his, and making him see stars behind his closed eyes, this time, Eddie moaning into the kiss.

The rain kept pouring outside, loudly, raging, as the both of you lost yourselves to each other, molding to each other, and eventually ending up on his bed. Eddie’s clothes started falling to the floor of his floor, however, he refused to take his hoodie off of you until the very end.

He kissed and tasted every inch of your body, whispering your name like a mantra, as you scratched his skin every time he found a soft spot that made you feel in ecstasy. Driven by the sounds of pleasure each other made, you gave in, tangling your bodies together, the needy heat only growing hotter, however, the sweet shy tenderness of just found lovers remained there, as he claimed you as his and you marked him as yours, you wasted the afternoon away forgetting about everything else. Eddie’s music, and the sweet echoes of the rain hitting the roof of the trailer filled in the room, silencing each other’s sweet nothings, concealing your love confessions just to yourselves.

Sometime throughout the night, the rain finally stopped, although you didn’t really notice, not even after waking up next to Eddie, his warm body next to yours, keeping you warm under his sheets, as now his slow breathing was everything that could be heard in his room. You were far too comfortable snuggled in his embrace to dare to go back to your trailer anytime soon. You kissed his chest, your lips lingering on his tattoo over his heart as he hummed softly.

"Morning, sweetheart…" He purred in a husky voice as you looked at him and smiled, seeing his sleepy smile and his messy hair.

"Good morning, Eddie" You purred as you leaned forward and kissed the corner of his lip. He hummed.

"You should lock yourself out of your trailer more often…"

"On a rainy day?"

"Specially on a rainy day…" He chuckled as he cupped your cheek and brought you closer, kissing you sweetly.

[multifandomwhore-003]

He just needs time²

Requested by: Onyx

Pairings: Mentions of Fezco x female! reader.

Summary: Since the new arrival of an unwanted visit, things have been getting a little hostile at your boyfriend's house.

Genre(s): a little angsty, fluff.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, SEASON 2 SPOILERS.

Taglist: @itsnanaa @fdl305 @rafecameronswhore @wolfstarkiss @marina-del-rey98 @serialghost @barbiekatz @gabiatthedisco @poohkie90 , join the taglist here

Part one on the masterlist!

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚗

REQUESTS OPEN, REQUEST HERE

THIS IS NOT FREE USE, YOU CANNOT USE MY WORK

Reblog if you like

You tossed your keys on the counter, huffing, you took your jacket off, "I'm sorry for being late, the bus broke down and I had to walk all the way here,"

"Why didn't you call Fez to pick you up?" Ash kept on cleaning the floor.

"I didn't wanna bother him, I can take care of myself," you raised your shoulders, "Where is he, by the way?"

"Closing the store, and don't do that shit again, you're dating a drug dealer, you need to be protected at all times,"

An immediate smile appeared on your face, along with a comforting feeling in your heart. You stepped out of the kitchen, and when you saw the blood on the floor, you took a deep breath, feeling your body freeze, "Whose blood is that?"

"The less you know, the better,"

"Ash," you gulped, "Whose blood is that?" you weakly asked.

"You don't wanna know,"

"Don't give me that fucking bullshit," you spat, "I asked you a question and you're gonna answer it,"

He stopped drying, clenching his jaw, he turned to you, "Cal Jacobs,"

Your breath hitched and your arms went suddenly numb, "Please- please tell me he tripped or something, please tell me neither of you did this,"

Fez lied to you about Mouse, he didn't have the heart to tell you the truth and see your face filled with horror, he knew that if you found out, you wouldn't be able to look at Ash anymore, he knew how much you loved him and how much it would break you to think of him as a killer, you would never in your life have the guts to accept that he could hurt anybody let alone kill them.

"He tried to hurt Fey and she hit him however she could,"

It was easy to believe that story, just recently, she pushed a motel manager from the balcony, and because of the recent events regarding Nate Jacobs, you didn't question anything else. Your demeanor changed immediately, looking relaxed, a little disappointed, but not surprised.

"Okay, I'll get the hydrogen peroxide," you didn't hesitate before getting every chemical you needed to make it seem like nothing happened. In a surprisingly fast amount of time, you efficiently made the area look squeaky clean, along with coming up with a reasonable alibi in case he was stupid enough to press charges.

As you'd learn along the way, you handled the situation first, asked questions later, "Please tell me he didn't hurt you, and use those words," you sat on the couch to face him.

"Y/N, he didn't hurt me,"

"I just wanna make sure, can I check you?"

"Yes,"

Over the years, he'd grown tired of the question, but it still taught him the very important lesson of consent

"You know the drill, if anything I do makes you uncomfortable let me know immediately," you repeated those same words every time he could've been in danger.

Every inch of his pale skin seemed monotone, his bones felt normal, but you'd still wait a few more minutes in case he could be internally bleeding.

"Have you been drinking water?" you remembered as you poured a glass for yourself.

"No, I forgot,"

"It's okay," you grabbed another one from the pantry, "Here you go kid,"

"Thanks, Ma,"

Your eyes widened, "What did you say?"

"I said thanks," the realization hadn't hit him yet.

"You- you called me 'Ma'," you whispered more to yourself, shock washing over your body.

And it wasn't until he heard it from you that he halted too, cheeks becoming red from embarrassment.

"Ash-"

"I'm sorry," he shook his head rapidly.

"Hey, no, no, no, it's okay," your voice slightly cracked, you sat next to him, "You don't have to feel bad about it, but if you do, it's completely valid, I'm not mad, at all," you fought the urge to cry, "It makes me really happy, actually," but you didn't succeed, tears slipping out of your eyes, "Why am I crying? Fuck," you tried to laugh it off.

You'd known Fezco since you were kids, and by consequence, you were there to live everything that he went through as if his life was your own, Ashtray became the most important part of it so quickly, the three of you couldn't picture a life without each other. Your boyfriend would joke about your position in the family and the authority you had over the kid, but you'd always thought that perhaps Ash thought of you as someone with less ranking, like an older sister per se, but for him to actually call you his mom, the name so effortlessly slipping out of his mouth, the truth being told without giving it a second thought, you couldn't help yourself but break a little bit out of pure happiness.

It settled in faster than you'd thought, but you were his mom, and there was no force in the earth that could be strong enough to change it.

[reginaofdoctorwho]

ok so i started this as a draft days ago and barely remember where i was going with this idea but i tried to fill it out a little more. basically it’s just that anytime Curt says he misses being a spy he misses being a spy with Owen or the spy he was with Owen. so probably everything is what everyone knows already

Curt ties being a spy with Owen. completely, intrinsically, whatever, okay?? in Spy Again Curt says “Owen would want me to do this”, and lists

hop in a jet and fly again

grow a spine again

do my best not to cry again

wear a suit and tie again

drink martinis and drive again

get by again

feel like a real important guy again

as what he’s going to do as a spy. let’s check off what happens before Owen’s reveal (i’m trying to include some)

hop in a jet and fly again

grow a spine again

do my best not to cry again (i’m trying to be nice here he’s probably doing his best despite what happens)

wear a suit and tie again (literally part of the mission)

drink martinis and drive again (he’s sobering up)

get by again (barely my dude)

feel like a real important guy again

which, decent, but our dude is also having gay flashbacks, messing up a very simple and clear mission, and mistakes flirting for fighting (to quote my friend “Amelie” “he’s,,, so bad at pretending to be straight”) this all being with him having been one of the greatest spies, to the point of recognition years after he retired.

and post Owen’s reveal

hop in a jet and fly again (we’re going to count whatever that in

grow a spine again

do my best not to cry again

wear a suit and tie again (i mean he doesn’t need it??)

drink martinis and drive again (ok i don’t know maybe?? he does shots before and THEN chases Owen and then he’s drinking whiskey when he meets with Tatiana)

get by again

feel like a real important guy again (look at him at the end

more below the cut because this is already long and it’s going to be even longer

Okay, to be more in depth, (this’ll sound like a lot of my other posts) at the beginning Curt Mega is truly a great spy. yes, he was captured by Oleg, but the entire interaction with him Curt is still in control. he mocks Oleg, breaks his fingers, hits the bat back at him, all while holding a conversation (and flirting) with Owen. he’s confident the entire time, he’s willing to go against plans and is overconfident to a fault. While Cynthia is somewhat rude and pays more attention to Owen in the beginning (”finally someone who knows what the hell they’re doing!”) but i think she’d treat him the same as Curt if he ever did decide to work for her. it’s partially a “bring in new talent” and partially a “keep the old talent from being overconfident” thing. i don’t think it’s an actual mark on what pre-fall Curt was like as an agent. but either way, their record was six minutes to get out of a building presumably set to explode (or implode. fuck if i know) and they were still both confident and eager to lower the time even more. and they would have accomplished it, if not for Owen falling. what i’m saying is pre-canon Curt was a very effective agent, was good at his job, and was likely almost never out of his depth.

in Spy Again, he’s talking about becoming a spy again, but he links this to Owen, believing that being a spy again would enable him to work past Owen’s death (”but maybe this time’ll be different, it might be what I need”). he’s haunted by the “memories” not “memory”, which could be taken as any time he and Owen worked together, not just when he died. he wants to be a spy, but even stating that and the things he misses about being a spy (above lists) starts to remind him of Owen (”and i know just where i’m goin’, me and my partner Owen!”). he sees himself post-fall, with his beard, alcoholism, and trying and failing to improve (”i do what i can, try to make a plan, to be a better man, but nothing seems to stick”) and again relates it to Owen (”Owen please, if you could see what’s become of me, what would you think?”). Curt decides Owen would want him to be a spy again (”i once was a spy. i think you’d want me to spy again”) and repeats it to make it stick (”Owen would want me to do this”), and that is what truly starts him off again. or so it would seem.

in his first mission back, Curt can’t start again. he has to talk himself into doing his job again (”looks like that someone has to be me. you came here to do this, so do the job, stop acting like a little pussy”), and then mostly rides along on what Tatiana does anyway (”i second that motion!) a far cry from the beginning Curt who did his job eagerly. and we are again reminded that Curt was a great spy when Sergio recognizes Curt on sight and says “is that Agent Curt Mega? ... i can’t believe this, the most famous spy in the world busting my arms deal. hey, would you mind signing something...” followed by DMA immediately being able to disarm Curt with ease, showing the contrast. Curt does recognize the baked goods are the way to hurt Sergio, but also loses the bomb to Tatiana

Curt is, at this point, still waiting [in a way] for a partner. it is not implied in the beginning that he and Owen worked together every mission, rather the opposite in fact (“MI6 didn’t tell me you were on this mission”), but he still seems to almost expect a partner, and goes off what Tatiana says even though they’re not working together, and they both train their weapons on the baked goods.

Cynthia points out that he’s been on an early retirement for four years, which Curt is very quick to correct as a grieving period. his hands shake during Cynthia’s drill, he fumbles the gun, and he has none of the grace or style of the beginning. when Cynthia mentions Owen and Curt’s alcoholism (”i remember when i got the call that Owen died and you lived, i screamed into Susan’s neck for fifteen seconds, then i locked it up and moved on. you on the other hand, you drank yourself to rock bottom...”) Curt doesn’t even look at her. when she poisons him, he’s still able to repeat back (in essence) what she said, showing that the spy of the past is still there, deep down.

Eyes on the Prize II is the (i think) first time we see Gay Flashback-Owen. he is notably not slipping and dying, as would likely be going through Curt’s head if he were haunted by that specific memory alone (going back to the “haunted by any memory of Owen”) thing i mentioned, but is instead also saying “keep your eyes on the prize” with the ensemble, again lining up Owen with Curt’s idea of being a spy.

during the casino scene Curt is clumsy with his acting, and is trying to get information from Tatiana (it’s all very awkward. “make it a white russian, hold the vodka, please, thank you so much” “excellent choice. one vodka martini bone dry, and one glass of cream”), but as soon as another person joins it (Dick Big), the relationship between them turns from enemies trying to get information from the other to an uneasy team (”i’m hardly alone, the woman and i were just about to-”), with Curt even giving a russian toast, and although Tatiana definitely notices when Curt is given a gun by the dealer, she politely declines to mention it, and when Curt offers her his arm while Dick is off finding a waiter, she smiles. and while it could be argued that it is just them working undercover, this did feel more genuine than when they are alone and back in their assumed positions (”besides, without that horrible face fungus, what will i have to yank?” “we are talking about fighting, right?”) Tatiana also recognizes that Curt is alone in more ways than one, both without backup and without anyone he can trust fully. in the short time they’ve been together, they already are close enough to friends that Tati apologizes for bringing him to DMA

despite the two of them being on opposite sides during this encounter, they are already beginning to act as partners/friends, and Curt takes her betrayal more personally than he should have

i’d also like to take this moment to point out that DMA almost instinctively stabs the Nazi henchman for saying “seems his noggin’s a bit dense!” of Curt

during Torture Tango, it seems like he’s having a natural reaction to getting tortured. Curt is nervous, he’s afraid, he’s ready to die (”you sick bastard, why don’t you just kill me already?”/”i can’t deny that i’m gonna die”). but this is NOT how the torture scene at the beginning went, even before he knew Owen was there. at the beginning scene Curt is arrogant, throwing Oleg’s words back at him, breaking his fingers, keeping a cool tone and staying in control the whole time. this time he barely talks to the DMA, he doesn’t fight back, he just accepts it. also, he sings “i once was a spy but i won’t be a spy again” and “thought i could say goodbye, but i can’t lie i wanna be a spy again” despite the fact that he is a spy again. he says he wants to be a spy again, but he already is a spy again, what he’s missing is Owen. he was once a spy with a partner he loved and could trust completely, and the partner felt the same way about him. that is what i believe enabled him to be such a good spy, he had someone who knew everything about him, being gay included, and he was able to act more confidently as a result. what he misses is less of the “go get the girl and go save the world” and more seeing his partner even for short periods and having the confidence that comes from being known. also, curt is on the verge of death and is still thinking of Owen (”doesn’t even matter if i killed my best friend”)

back to Tatiana, who’s having her own crisis. “is Mega my enemy do i let him die? i’ve got to think about my family ‘cause no one’s looking out for me...” she, at this point, has not interacted with Curt beyond the arms deal, the casino, and betraying him to von Nazi and DMA. despite this she still sees him as a possible ally, and ultimately does decide to betray von Nazi and DMA for him (to his understandable confusion). when she unties him, he only calms down when she holds her arm out to him, but he becomes so distracted by it and Gay Flashback-Owen that he doesn’t notice DMA is waking up until he’s already been shot.  i’d also like to point out that Gay Flashback-Owen is doing the same arm out pose Tatiana is doing while holding Curt’s arm

end of act 1. can i get a wahoo?

when Curt is with Barb, he acknowledges that he’s fucked things up, but still catches himself on saying he is a [great] spy again ”i was, i am, supposed to be the best”

i think during the gala he is trying to be the Curt from the past while ignoring why he was that way. he insists on going rogue, he confidently (and foolishly) announces that he is a spy, the prince will be assassinated, and that the Russians and Americans know, despite the fact that it doesn’t seem like a good idea if thought about at all. With blowing up the facility at the beginning there was some merit to it. they had been seen, they stole the plans and possibly wished to muddle why they were there, the facility might have had more plans they didn’t know about and they were already on a time limit. they also had a limit on the tech items they had (no rocket shoes :’( ).

when Tatiana rescues him again and takes him to his mother’s safe house, who mentions a “constant parade of drinking buddies, for poker or wrestling or whatever you boys do in the rumpus room” and while we could make an argument about Curt trying to move on after the fall, i think this youtube comment on the video is a fucking treasure and i will forever remember it.

i’d also like to point out now that Tatiana is truly the only character that i believe could “replace” Owen for Curt. he needs someone in his life who can know even the parts he hides from those closest to him, someone on equal footing with him, someone who doesn’t idolize him, and someone who works well with him. he can’t tell his mother, because she wants grandchildren, she wants a daughter-in-law, she wants to plan a wedding. it can’t be Cynthia, she’s his boss, it’s set during the Lavender Scare when he could lose his job for being gay. it can’t be Barb, who has an intense crush on him, and even when she does act in a platonic way, she is willing to risk her job based on the fact that it’s him (in an almost awestruck way). Tatiana is unimpressed with Curt when they first meet, they become friends quickly, work together to stop von Nazi and DMA, they are both spies at the top of the field, and she accepts him (”you’re cool with me?” “till the end!” “cool :)”). also, i think it’s interesting that Tatiana believes she is saving someone (her family) by leaving them behind, while Curt believed he killed someone (Owen his lover) by leaving them behind. just kinda parallels i think

before Doing This, Curt says he is is afraid that “[he’ll] never be the spy [he] once was” and that he believes he shouldn’t need anyone else. when Tatiana says he’ll get everyone who cares about him killed with his line of thinking he says the line “i already have.” explains about Owen, and adds “and that was back when I was the old Curt”.

during One More Shot, Curt acknowledges that he tried to get past missing Owen by trying not to need anyone else, which was wrong (“i used to think i could do this by myself i was fine, i didn't need any help“). this is him starting to take his friendship with Tati and being able to use it to see that while he cannot work alone, he doesn’t need one specific person to make him the man he is.

this of course promptly goes out the window when DMA is revealed to be Owen

however, Curt still calls Tatiana “partner” before going after Owen.

when he does go after Owen (One Step Ahead), he still thinks of Owen as the man from 1957 (”what happened to the man i knew?”). when Owen begins to explain, Curt tries to remind him of what they did “together. two of the greatest spies to ever live”. once again associating him and Owen together with being a spy

also, once Owen is dead (idk if i hope for real or not) again, Curt does make a change for the better. he’s able to be fairly confident around Cynthia, he tries to be enthusiastic about Barb’s tech/data analysis merge, he is able to talk about his “ex lover returned from the grave” with Tatiana. i do find it interesting though that he does not tell her about the other facilities, again taking it upon himself to fix it, and only telling her “give me a ring if you’re ever stateside”.

in a final moment, Curt is able to move on from Owen, and acknowledge “i once was a spy, i’ll always be a spy” with or without Owen.