#but yeah you gotta be...careful with C-PTSD

[dandyshucks]

rambling about Guz under the cut hsdhgjkl, CW for abuse and (c)ptsd talk as well as discussion of racism

i've hesitated to say anything about his trauma-caused aggression and anger because i fear it'll be misconstrued by ppl (<- tags on that other post that i'm going off of bc i wanna ramble abt it)

he's not Scary or Violent or Mean. i mean maybe other ppl might view him that way, he might come across that way if you don't know him well, but like.... its trauma. if you were physically abused as a child... yeah. youre gonna come out of that with issues that won't be pretty. you're not going to be the Perfect Victim. you are going to have symptoms and reactions and whatnot that are ugly and difficult and upsetting and hard-to-be-around sometimes.

I am really aware and cautious of the stereotype where many men of colour (mainly black men, but this also includes indigenous men and some other men of colour) are portrayed as being Big and Aggressive, so I have avoided getting anywhere near that, especially since I made the decision to change Guz's skintone in my portrayal of him (which I'm not going to get into, at least rn, but that decision was carefully thought out as well for me). So I always get a bit worried that IF I show any of that side of his trauma, it is going to come off the wrong way.

When I look at him being angry and aggressive in any way, I'm coming at it from the perspective of "this is a man who was a child who was abused and beaten, and he's grown up being taught he needs to Fight, that he needs to be scary in order to be safe, and he is very afraid in a way that translates to anger because that's the way he learned to deal with that emotion." And then we (Guz and co) figure out how to work with that, how to start unravelling all the trauma that's packed into that behaviour, how to start unlearning those reactions and begin working on new ways of Being. He's got a safe environment now, where the people he's around genuinely care about him, where he doesn't have to scare the people around him in order to be respected and safe. Plumes and the squad love him, and Junebug loves him, and he doesn't want to hurt any of them. He also doesn't want to continue that cycle of abuse, doesn't want the grunts or anyone else to feel afraid of him like he was afraid of his dad, nor does he want any of the grunts to feel like they have to be aggressive to be safe in the world.

I'm also aware of the fact that I have white skin even if I am indigenous lol, and the little white-skinned partner appearing to be the "uwu soft niceys" one in the relationship with the big "aggressive" man with brown skin is uhhhh a really fucking awful look! really fucked up! And it's not something I'm interested in presenting to the world, even if it's just in this small circle of the internet. That's a really fucked up dynamic to be putting out there without context lmao.

Anyways, so even if Guz has that shit going on, I'm very careful with how I present it and aware of how it might come across, and if I ever step over any lines, people are more than welcome to holler at me and let me know I've fucked up!

Currently, I figure he was working on shit for a while before my self-insert came along (this is not a case of "i will fix you all by myself" because again... my white skin makes it look like white saviorism, plus I do not think thats a very interesting dynamic for me personally anyways lol, you gotta be putting in a bit of work yourself for me to stick around very long and help you out), and then Junebug showing up was just another motivational force to keep working on his shit. Guz has a good group of people around him and Junebug is just kind of a bonus in the situation. He'd be putting in the work either way, but they're just a little extra boost for him.

I think he’ll always have a bit of a tendency to react with the fight instinct rather than flight or freeze in situations where he is genuinely terrified and doesn’t have time to think through a reaction, but all of the rest of it improves. It’s amazing what a person can change about the way their brain is wired with enough time and effort and support!

[system-of-a-feather]

Man, I know I came around here sat down and was like "guys I'm the emotional / masking burn out red flag and signal and I very clearly dislike anyone or anything that require me to acknowledge that people exist around me and that I have to tolerate them having a mind of their own so just so ya know what it means when I'm here"

And everyone's like "Yeah that sounds about right, thats a very important role and we appreciate it"

And I'm like "cool, as long as you know that I have no real complaints as long as I don't have to interact with people lol"

And like that's been chill cause Riku and I have this dynamic at this point where I'm like "this is how I feel and this is my truth, you dont gotta do shit about it cause I don't care enough and itd be more annoying to address it but do keep that my red flag is here so *peace*"

And XIV and Lucille here are now just looking at me and giving me the "you know you can't do that and have a responsibility to do more than sit there and just be a flag. If you are a sentinel part, you should probably actually, you know, be a sentinel and not just a breeze"

And its like, ugh fair. I hold my one boundary that I refuse to deal with people though but they are right that the least I should do is actually state my opinion on what we need rather than just pointing out issues cause yeah, I know what we need pretty decently and I CAN talk to the system I just like..... didn't want to on a whole lazy manner.

But they're right, sitting here knowing things aren't working and deciding to sit back and watching the fire grow cause its "not my issue" is kind of selfish and what I know isn't the best for the system and whats not best for the system is not whats best for me in the long run. If I'm aware and smart enough to know that genuinely asking the system to just never interact with people who don't have C-PTSD and no empathy is dumb, then sitting back and watching it slowly burn until it gets to that point shouldn't be my play either - at least if I factually know a better way to address it lol

They're over there though rolling their eyes at me and shaking their head (affectionately) cause a lot of the other parts in the system are a lot more motivated to speak their mind for better or worse and then theres me and I'm just like ".... yeah I know how to fix this but that would require me to talk to you guys beyond the bare minimum of my own stress management."

-Chunn

[newwwwusername]

SPOP - Catra & Perfuma - Mental Health Awareness Month Prompt 14 : Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

Prompt : Write a fic in which a character has PTSD (canon or not canon)

"Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder"

"Post-Tra-What now?" Catra cocked her head to the side. Perfuma chuckled.

"Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder" she repeated. "Or, I suppose Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is more accurate to you" she hummed in consideration. "C-PTSD for short. It basically just means that all the bad things you've gone through have left long lasting effects on your psyche"

"Well, no shit"

"And certain things can trigger your nightmares and the flashbacks you've been having" Perfuma explained. "Can you think of something that may apply to?"

"...Water" Catra said after a small moment. "It reminds me of... Of Prime's green... Yeah"

"Okay. Water" Perfuma nodded. "Anything else?"

"Does it matter?" Catra asked, growing annoyed. Perfuma shrugged.

"We don't have to dive into it if you aren't comfortable" the flower princess told her. "It's just something to think about" she continued. "If you know what your triggers are, you can prevent the flashbacks and nightmares more easily"

"Okay..." Catra muttered, deep in consideration. "Wait, so what was the acronym again?"

"C-PTSD"

"C-PTSD..." Catra repeated. A moment passed and then she chuckled. "So I'm just fucking crazy, got it"

"You're not crazy" Perfuma told her firmly. "Most people in Etheria have some form of PTSD from the war or the Horde or... Honestly a number of things"

"Oh" Catra said, a bit relieved. "Do you have... You know?"

"Yes" Perfuma nodded solemnly.

"Huh"

"But hey" the princess continued, brightening up again. "It's manageable. You just gotta take care of yourself"

"Yeah..." Catra said quietly. "Yeah"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah"

Do not repost on other sites! If you want to participate in this month's challenge, there are 15 mental illness prompts that you can find here

[not-poignant]

Book recs on autism/add/CPTSD?

Aside from the books I recced here ages ago, which are mostly PTSD and dissociative disorder focused, nope. There’s one book in there on autism, but it’s specifically for partner workshopping, and that’s it.

Part of the reason I don’t have any book recs on C-PTSD is that there is not a ton of great books out there on C-PTSD, and this is partly because it’s not officially recognised in most of the world’s major diagnostic manuals. People can’t decide exactly what it is, or whether it’s a combination of comorbidities. They can’t decide if they want to call it C-PTSD or DES-NOS or something else. Not only that, but a serious push was made to include DES-NOS and DTD (C-PTSD related acronyms) in the latest revision of the DSM, and all were pushed back/rejected for just being insufficiently presented as conditions. Imho, I don’t think the DSM was wrong to reject what was put forward as the disorder.

I followed research around C-PTSD closely (because my symptoms match the description of it closely) around 1994 and in the decade afterwards. A lot of the time it was described as PTSD made additionally complicated by a dissociative disorder or alternatively, a personality disorder like Borderline or Bipolar Personality Disorder. It was used to distinguish from say, one-off rape-triggered PTSD, and PTSD that might be triggered by hundreds of rapes over a prolonged period since childhood (understanding that obviously, these would create different types of severity in the post-trauma spectrum, and require different treatments and expectations of recovery), and as with all disorders, a lot of people began self-diagnosing with C-PTSD who may have been dealing with comorbidities (PTSD + BPD as an example) that felt or looked similar.

Anyway, as a result, the literature on it outside of Herman’s work (which is in my stack of books) is like... mmmm. Hit and miss. It’s mostly articles.

Over time, with more research, it’s become less popular as a diagnostic disorder over time and not more popular, partly because a lot of the symptoms can be accounted for by pre-existing other conditions (ditto the treatments recommended). That isn’t to say it doesn’t exist, or that people can’t feel like that’s where they belong in terms of a label - I used the label myself for like 9 years before I decided against it - but the research around it shows more holes than anything solid, and there’s still a lot missing in the understanding of what is trying to be attained in the description of C-PTSD in the first place. It kind of had a golden age from like 1995-2005, dropped off the face of the planet, and then got picked up again during the renaissance of Tumblr (and social media) self-diagnosis and post-trauma social media vlogs etc.

The gold standard for C-PTSD discussion was still what was put forth by Judith Herman in Trauma and Recovery in 1992. There’s a reason even the Wiki article doesn’t step out much past that; there’s not that much good scientific work that’s been done in the field since that’s consistent or proves the existence of the disorder in the first place. :/ Traumatology science is complicated, but...things are not looking good for C-PTSD and it’s related acronyms DES-NOS (Disorders of Extreme Stress Not Otherwise Specified) and DTD (Developmental Trauma Disorder, for the childhood equivalent of C-PTSD) joining the DSM any time soon. So I kind of...dropped off with that research myself.

I have a lot of feelings about the C-PTSD diagnosis because I’ve had therapists diagnose me with it. But for the most part, it doesn’t change your treatment protocol anymore than if you had severe PTSD from prolonged trauma complicated with other mental and physiological disorders. As a result, I’m satisfied with the books on PTSD that I already have. I don’t set out to write characters with ‘C-PTSD’ - I write characters with PTSD complicated with other issues a lot of the time; if that reads as C-PTSD, that’s fine, but that’s actually just what PTSD complicated with other issues looks like as well.

I don’t have any book recs on ADHD or ADD, partly for selfish reasons - I don’t have it. I do have a lot of the symptoms, because there’s a lot of crossover between ADHD symptoms and severe PTSD symptoms and autism symptoms. (Fun fact, people with trauma who think they have ADHD or get diagnosed with ADHD first, often don’t realise that 70% of their symptoms can all be explained by PTSD. There are quite a few folks out there diagnosed with the latter, who might do better with treatment protocols for the former added in - many people don’t realise that mental illnesses trend in the mental health community. For like ten years it was bipolar and rapid cycling bipolar, for the last five years it’s been ADHD, some of those people have...you guessed it...PTSD, lol; when a disorder is trending, it gets diagnosed way more often whether the person has it or not - that’s why a differential diagnosis is so important).

I relate to almost every ADHD meme I see, because I have severe PTSD, lmao.

I’ve read a lot of articles on ADHD over the years because I have many friends who have it, but I don’t bookmark stuff like that so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  I apologise! I mostly just pass them onto friends who have it and have appointed me their ‘research friend’ and that’s that.

And as for autism, I’ve never felt particularly compelled to read up on it, weirdly, outside of like the practical book that I’ve got in my collection (which I do, actually, recommend). Again, a lot of the symptoms between Asperger’s and severe PTSD actually are comorbid with each other, so again, a lot of the stuff covered in my PTSD research and therapy actually gave me adequate tools to deal with my autism.

But also just... most books on autism focus on boys with autism and focus on AMAB people and AMAB presentations and AMAB research and are less useful to me than like, articles and websites that specifically talk about AFAB autism presentation etc. The world of published autism books has a ways to go when it comes to not being like, sexist/misogynist in its presentation.

[grison-in-space]

I have been spending much of the past few weeks drowning in ancient Sentinel fic. (It's a real trip when you read a contemporarily-set-as-written story that flashes twenty years into the future, note the year, and then note that said far flung future year is 2019.)

Anyway, one of the the things that keeps standing out to me as I read is just how much Jim's canonical superpower is basically just neurodivergence, and just how much of this body of slash (and the odd smarm) fic is also about coming to terms with the disabling aspects of neurodivergence. But--and this is the thing that fascinates me about it--both dialogues are absolutely and completely out of sync with contemporary dialogue about what we currently call autism and ADHD.

Hear me out! The big things Jim is struggling with are hypersensitivity, overload, and executive function--that is, he frequently snags on sensory inputs with which he can't disengage. He's got to be careful about what he consumes or interacts with because he has outsize reactions to certain stimuli, often in unpredictable (to him) ways.

Y'all, I literally refer to that experience--that is, getting stuck on a sensation or activity with which I can't disengage without external input, say like my partner nudging me to check in, as zoning out. Have done for years. (Also, to be fair, as "freezing up" or "getting stuck", and there's an emotional component to all that which is basically just PTSD, but you can also effectively argue that Jim displays both the simple PTSD you expect out of an Army vet and also the complex PTSD you expect out of a baby neurodivergent kid trying to fit into an unyielding world etc etc; what do you think Jimmy's childhood trauma and daddy issues about approval actually come down to?)

Now I say this is all totally disconnected from contemporary dialogue about ADHD and autism because, bluntly, both at the time and even to a lesser extent today, these are both highly gendered categories, and Jim ain't the right gender. Yeah, he's male, but you gotta understand that there's a whole bunch of gender categories under "male" and "female," all of which are inflected by things like race and class and culture and subculture, this isn't a binary thing--if it helps to think instead "Jim isn't the right kind of guy to be the kind of guy we talk about with respect to autism especially," it's the same concept. Diagnoses and labels are socially constructed categories; we define who fits in those boxes based on mental pictures of what kinds of people fit the image, and at the time these labels were really, really inflected by focus on a specific kind of guy. (Well, the larval form of that guy, since largely we were talking about children and still are, without contemplating that out of the hideous chrysalis of adolescence shambles an entirely different sort of beast--fuck, it is real obvious this morning I have had neither meds nor breakfast as I write. A n y w a y.)

My point is that Jim is a) too athletic, b) too military, c) too quiet, and d) too concerned with masking and camouflaging himself and not revealing that he's not like everyone else to fit most of our modern schemas of these labels and all of our contemporary ones. And, if you look at those last two notes, Jim actually displays a developmental response to neurodivergence and finding out that you are not the kind of kid that everyone around you is expecting that we associate with neurodivergent girls: try not to need help, do not on any account let it be known that you are Different except for that weird Village People phase of his right after the military and be quiet if you're struggling. (In a weird way, gender nonconforming behavior is part of the diagnostic metapicture for especially autistic people: boys who aren't into sports enough, girls who aren't good enough at makeup, and so forth. So one of the common things you see in people who are trying to mask neurodivergence is a hyperconformity to whatever gender presentation is considered most culturally acceptable--and, er, also a very common thing you see in closeted queer and trans people, there is a reason a lot of these things co-occur....)

Ooh, hey, you know what kind of person fandom is chock full of? Queer, neurodivergent women. You know what kind of people were writing a lot of Sentinel fic--? Keep that in mind.

Actually you know who is the right gender--the right kind of guy--to have run into autistic people and ADHD people and delights such as myself that meld both experiences into a single cobblework brain? Blair. Blair is exactly the kind of kid who would have gotten diagnosed, if he was about ten years younger and Naomi sat still long enough. Blair, the bookish child genius who went to university at sixteen and then apparently stayed there accruing degrees bizarrely slowly until we meet him ten years later as what appears to be a fairly new PhD student, or at least one who hasn't gotten very far. Do you have any idea how dense on the ground neurodivergent people are in academia? I mean, mostly they're not identified as such, you wouldn't believe how awkward people get when I casually disclose that Yes, I Have The Labels, but you do eventually recognize patterns in the sorts of people you interact with every day by the time you've been knocking around them for ten years.

A while back I was talking on this blog about how coded portrayals of characters are often just depictions based on types of people that authors have observed without necessarily conceptualizing or recognizing them as part of the group they're coded as belonging to. And I really do think that this is a massive factor in both how Jim is portrayed in canon but also in how Jim is depicted in fandom. Which is what makes the dialogue of these stories so interesting to me, because we think about the same groups of people and the same experiences differently depending on the frameworks we apply to them. So here I see this whole fascinating dialogue in fandom that is approaching the experiences of the same sorts of people as we see labeled one way, but constructing their own frameworks to understand, often with reference to but largely (fortunately) avoiding the framework of canon, which is kind of cartoonishly racist in a very 1990s way.

(Look, the downside of intersectionality is that sometimes you interrogate an interesting thread that is doing something novel and fascinating on Axis 1 and something incredibly boring and frustratingly harmful on Axis 2 and being deliberate and thoughtful about neither of them.)

I have more, but I've been chattering all morning while I walk the dogs and feed the cats and at some point I have to start packing, but look:

I just read a fascinating two-part set of short stories on the potential transcendent joy of hyperfixation and zoning and the ethics of trying to intervene in someone else's tendency to zone in the interest of not, ah, accidentally zoning at a bad moment and dying or being unable to accomplish one's basic goals. A set of pieces that is thinking fairly explicitly about themes of practicality and choice and how one might choose to moderate and control one's mind to balance ecstacy and independence, ending on a note of choosing to indulge in hyperfixation and zoning occasionally, at times of one's own choosing.

Written in goddamn 2002.

What a world we live in! What a lens with which to interrogate a body of text!

[deadinside-butstill-horny]

The Night We Met

Part Three - Most Of You

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 10k - Word count got away from me.

Summary: We learn a little about Y/N’s past. Tequila is involved and inhibitions lowered. 

Content Warnings: Mentions of death, themes of PTSD,18+ SMUT warning, oral, fingering, dirty talk, penetrative sex. Lots and lots of consent, cause consent is sexy and you know our boy Javi is nothing if not respectful.

MASTERLIST

AO3

Author Note: I really enjoyed writing this. It’s absolutely just porn with minor plot but I have no regrets.

Got the gif from this photo set during the week because THAT’S THE SMILE I’M ON ABOUT. That cute as fuck half smile; it melts my heart. 

Part One   -  Part Two 

It just so happened that when Javier decided to stop trying to seduce you, the two of you could actually be around one another and have a good time. Well, not quite as good as that night. But in the grand scheme of things; good-ish. 

After the debauchery that had occurred outside of the church the two of you had ceremonially agreed to a ceasefire on all hostilities with your second meeting. You were equal parts surprised and disappointed that Javier had been on his best behaviour, the two of you had successfully bought the ingredients and were currently producing what was sure to be a decent breakfast without either of you ending up naked. 

He was the picture of domesticity as he sat on the counter top with a beer in his hand at 8:15am as you whisked some eggs in a bowl using a fork, you paused for a moment, taking a sip of your own beverage, then resuming your task as you threw the eggs into the too hot pan making them sizzle on the skillet. 

"No, no, no, no." Javier cried and pushed himself off of the counter as he tutted, coming to your side and placing his hand on the curve of your waist to move you out of his way. His hand slithers forward and lingers a second on your own fingers before he takes the spatula and puts space between the two of you to manage the task at hand. 

For a moment, you're perplexed. The movement itself wasn't particularly invasive or breaking from the gentlemanly persona he had adopted in the last two hours, but rather it was an act of, well, familiarity. Which reason dictates simply shouldn’t exist between the two of you. 

You had known each other for a grand total of 48 hours and that was being generous as you had been comatosed for easily 15 of those. He had a bad habit of popping up when you least expected it and disarming you with an easy smile. 

You didn’t like how he made you feel. Everything you said, you measured his reaction, a pull of his lip, a flash of his teeth or a narrow of his brow; these were his tells, well his obvious ones. 

You tried desperately to convince yourself that this was platonic analysis. It would seem you could kid Javier but you couldn’t trick yourself. You felt things for the man that you really shouldn’t after knowing him for two days. You were frustrated with the situation, he’d slept with another woman hours after your encounter. You were jealous, sure, but not betrayed.  

It was a matter of pride, that evening had somewhat extinguished the fire for the bronzed man who was currently trying to save the eggs you’d flash fried. What you were experiencing were embers. Yes, embers. The fire hadn’t completely been doused and all you had was a residual heat. A deep glowing burning heat, sure. But eventually reality would be sure to dump some more water on this fire and you wouldn’t feel this lingering need for the man, right?

“¡Espero que te gusten los huevos calientes!” Javier hollered over the sizzling with a smirk on his face as he scraped at the pan with the instrument he’d stolen from you. 

“Eggs and Hot? That’s all I got!” You question a smile warming your face, apparently his enthusiasm was contagious. 

He chuckled at your words and nodded, “Tu español no es tan malo linda dama!”

“I got nothin’ besides español,'' you shrug. Javier let out another snicker, he seemed to laugh a lot but he was missing the soft wrinkles bracketing his mustache which made you think that maybe this wasn’t his natural state. There was a light silence whilst he sliced the loaf of bread you’d picked from the store. As you were setting the table your book caught your eye from its place on the coffee table and you couldn’t resist trying out some of your newly learnt infant level language. 

“Hola Javier, mi nombre es Y/N. Mi color favorito es el Y/F/C.¡Me gustan los perros!” 

(My name is Y/N, My Favourite colour is Y/F/C. I like dogs!)

Javier turned around his expression; a picture of incredulousness. His eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, his mustache almost touching his nose as you got a view of his brilliant white teeth in a genuine honest to god grin. If you had a camera, you’d have captured that moment.

“I’ll have to be careful around you, huh, sunshine? These new Spanish skills of yours could get me into trouble.”

“Bailar es divertido!” You exclaim using the only Spanish phrase you know.

“What?...Dancing is fun?... Where the hell did you learn this stuff?”

“Español … para... niños”

“Española para niñas” Javier corrected helpful “Unless you’ve got something you need to tell me...” 

“Damn! The masculine and feminine, they briefly touched upon the theory in Spanish for Kids. It wasn’t as in depth as you might think though.” You joke with a huff. “Hey, do you know where I can get a better translating book?”

“Learning Spanish, huh? How long are you plannin’ on staying exactly?” You jump at the addition of a third voice, Steve appears looking thoroughly rested with his voice two octaves lower than it should be.

“Well ya’ know Stevie, it’s pretty ignorant to not learn a little of the language of the country you’re in.”

“You didn’t answer the question.” Steve points out, you’d hoped he would give in and let it go considering Javier was here. Though seeing as he greeted his partner whilst grabbing a cup of coffee before turning expectantly towards yourself, your chances of skirting around the subject seemed slim. 

“I don’t have any commitments at home, not like I got the hospital waiting for me to come back. So... I’mma stay… ya know … live a little!”

“Gillian? She’s not waiting for you?”

“Nah, I quit.”

“You quit?! It took you fuckin’ ages to get that job.”

“Stevie, If I have to clean up puke in a fucking grocery store once more. I honestly don't think I can take it- don’t look at me like that. Three times is three times too many!” 

“You’re fuckin’ out of your mind. This isn’t a holiday.”

“No, but I need some change, you clearly need to get your ass kicked back in line. We both win! If you help me get a job it’ll be great… I can practically speak Spanish already....” 

“I dispute that.” Javier piped up.

“Shut up.” You say as you throw the tea towel at him. “Look Stevie. Everything’s fine. You were fine with Connie and Olivia being here. I’m a grown ass woman.” There was silence as Javier continued moving around the kitchen, only this lull was a little heavier, you chalk it up to you being the youngest and the only girl in a family with three brothers. God knows they’d been benching you your entire life. 

“Fine.” Steve huffed and sat down at the table as you and Javier served up. The man in question gave you a conspiratorial wink as you passed one another. Nothing more was said on the matter as you tucked into breakfast. Infact, pleasant conversation was kept up all through the meal until it came time for Javier and Steve to go.

“We gotta get into the embassy. Heard rumours the new boss starts soon and we need to get our ducks in a row.” Steve nodded to Javier's words. “You ready to get back in the ring?”

“Been ready for the past two weeks, man. This leave of absence was bullshit”

Steve grabs his coat as you watch expectantly, waiting for your invite to the boys club, that inevitably doesn’t come. Instead you receive a much more in character; “Stay in the apartment, for god sakes Y/N. Just for today. I’ve left my number on the pad if you need me.”

You nod noncommittally and combined with a shrug the action hits its mark as Steve sighs.

“This isn’t funny. Bogotá isn’t safe for you.” You repeat your action, this time without the shrug. He huffs but carries on out of the door, he must have realised that was as much as an acquiescence as he was going to recieve, Javier follows him but stops on the threshold. 

“Te encontraré ese libro, Guapa.” He calls out before closing the door behind him.

“no hablo español, motherfucker!” You shout after him, you vaguely hear his warm chortle as he descends down the stairs. With your legs propped up on the chair in front of you, you huff and look around the room.  The absolute assholes had left you with the washing up. Yeah, feminism was definitely taking a hit during your time in Colombia. 

Apparently the agents hadn’t got the memo about the change in gender roles, you cursed their names as you turned on the radio to some latin music and began the arduous process of cleaning the entire kitchen, including the appliances and counters you hadn’t even used. 

You then moved onto the lounge, hey, if you were going to play the role of housewife, you were going to at least be a good one. You hoovered, reorganised and dusted your ass off for at least three-ish hours before you got bored, abandoning your work for snooping, you were only human after all.  

First you looked in the medicine cabinet and found nothing good, I mean, you don’t know what crazy drugs you were expecting your brother, the DEA agent, to have in his possession but you were crestfallen with the dull discovery of a spare toothpaste, American xanax and ‘aspirina bebé’.

With a lamentful sigh you took your sleuthing into the bedroom, pulling his bedside drawer open with a hesitant hand. You don’t know what dark sexual preferences your brother and Connie may or may not have and you didn’t want to risk permanent scarring. As you open it fully you glance inside remaining tentative, your eyes first fall on the badge left behind. He must have forgotten it. You take it out and place it on the bed beside you as you continue to investigate.

Your hands find a wad of folded yellow notepad paper, the jagged edges have been ripped from the main pad in frustration. Unfolding the wad, you do a once over of the sheet in front of you. The words ‘Dear Connie,’ make you halt in your sted.  Finding a gimp mask or weed was funny, this however crossed a line. So you placed the notes back where you found them, you turned to grab the badge and place it back on top of the pile but as the light shone on the metal an idea sprung to mind.

To say you were famed for your impulse control issues was an understatement. You often acted first with no regard for the consequences, hence your presence in Colombia and your extensive shoe collection. But as you drove your brother's Jeep through the streets of Bogotá, you realised that you may finally push Steve over the edge. Already in too deep you took the final turn, following the map you had spread out on the passenger side and were greeted with the American flag. Eureka. You had taken an embarrassing amount of wrong turns but had finally arrived.

You pulled up to the barrier and smiled at the Colombian guard donned in a dark green uniform. 

“Hola, Agent Murphy DEA asked me to drop off his badge.” You wiggle the object of your deceit in his eye line. 

“Identification?” The guard asked in heavily accented English.  You shut off the car's engine as you turn to your purse and pull your driver's license out and hand it over. He inspects the plastic, looking between you and the ID before nodding and handing it back to you, definitely not a social butterfly.  He then waved to the gentleman controlling the barrier, allowing you access.  

“DEA office is to the right. Personnel only.”

“I’ll be in and out, quick as a flash.” You reassuringly smile at the man and receive only a stony glare in return. Deciding to stop pushing the apparently limitless bounds of your dumb luck you pull through the barrier and into the car park on the right. You park up in what you hope is an unreserved space and hop out of the tall vehicle.

“Right, what's the plan again?” you mumble to yourself as you pause for a second, before starting towards the cream building and hopping up the stairs. You cling to the badge like a life raft, terrified you’ll be stopped as the imposter sight-seerer you are. Now in your defence, you knew this was dumb. Steve had an important job and distracting him wasn’t helpful in the least, but you couldn’t help yourself. Stay inside- like that was ever going to happen.

So you scoured the offices of the embassy for about fifteen minutes before you decided to break and ask for help, finally stopping an american looking woman with large stylish shoulder pads and even bigger hair. 

“I’m looking for the DEA office? Steve Murphy, Javier Peña?”  She seemed to bristle at the mention of the latter.

“Take that elevator to the third floor and it's the third door on the left, but watch out for Peña, he’s a real- '' She cut herself off with a huff, before nodding your way and walking off.

No shit, sister. 

Following the potentially scorned woman's instructions you found yourself in the DEA Bogotá headquarters; only Steve and Javier were nowhere to be seen.  

Fuck.

You looked around the room taking a slight step back getting ready to turn on your heel as an older white haired man entered the room. 

“Hey Newbie, I need two copies of each of these and I need these faxed to the team in Medellín.”

“Uh-”

“I needed them there yesterday, so get to it.” He dumps the two huge piles of files into your arms as you stare at him bemused. Looking back you still don’t know why you didn’t say anything, but you rolled up your sleeves and whipped out that can-do attitude and got to work, at what was apparently your new guerilla admin job. And that is how Javier and Steve found you two hours later, fighting with a fax machine and on the phone to the office in Medellín.

“No- I understand how the machine works… Yes… Yes I’ve turned it off and on, I think the problems on your side… No I don’t- Well Weaver needed the case file there yesterday so you need to figure something out! Yes… Yes I’ll hold. “ You turned when you heard steps behind you, pressing the receiver between your head and your shoulder and holding the fax machine manual. 

“Hey Guys!” You say cheerily, pretending like this was completely normal, like you hadn’t just dropped into Steve’s life and then surprised him every step of the way. 

“What in the hell are you-” Steve started, however the woman on the other side of the phone decided to pick up, you held up one finger to the two of them as a pause. 

“Oh, Hey Salome, It’s no problem… that’s great, I'll give it a try.” You drop the manual and press the green button on the fax machine, the machine begins making the whizzing sound you’d been chasing for the past twenty minutes. “Sounds all good on my end. Right, that's great I’ll send the rest across now. Thanks, have a nice day!”

“Am I high, right now? What the fuck is going on?” Steve’s tone matched his face with the disbelief painted upon it.  He had taken a seat at the desk which just so happened to be next to the fax machine and copier. Javier sat at his own in front of the typewriter with a smirk on his face lighting up a cigarette.

“Uh, well... I came to give you your badge cause’ you forgot it at home and then Weaver asked me to do some copies. Turns out that security here is pretty lax, cause’ I’ve been copying and faxing classified case files for the past two hours and no one seems to know or care that I don’t work here.” Steve’s eye all but twitched as he rubbed at his face. He reached into his bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and began pouring himself a glass.

“Fine.” He actually shrugged after downing the drink in one. Damn, You weren’t sure which had broken him, yourself or Colombia. “Better you’re here where I can keep tabs on you...Javi, can we get her an actual job?”

“I’ll run it by Messina,” Javier shrugged as he stood from behind his desk. “Probably best not to mention the perusal of classified cases though.”

So that’s how the three of you ended up at dinner celebrating your new job four days later, you were officially an office administrator for the DEA in Colombia, heading to the CNP base of operations in Medellín alongside your brother and his partner as their administrator, well, from what you understood, you were their dogsbody.  Your Spanish speaking ability had been greatly exaggerated but you were undeniably overqualified for the position, so, pending a background check you were through doors. 

Your interview with Steve and Javi’s boss; Messina, had been nerve wracking and your Murphy name had won you no favours. 

You’d given it your best and from what you could see you’d managed to convince her you were worth your salt. 

Yep, you’d proved yourself totally capable and more importantly, completely willing to move around 8 hours away to Medellín to live on an army base where a drug cartel was incredibly active. According to Javi this had apparently made you a very appealing hire to the DEA.  As such you were being sent along with the boys to help out on the front line, well, as close to the front line as an admin/dogsbody gets.

The three of your glasses clinked in unison, before you drained your shot with a regretful gasp, Tequila was the devil. 

“Thank you to Javi, for not only saving my sister from her stupidity once, but twice… or is it three times now?!” Steve lifted his second shot as he gave his heartfelt speech. Picking up the lime you’d just sucked the juice out of you launched it at him, missing by some margin. He let out what could only be described as a snigger as both him and Javi threw their second shots back.

If you were completely honest with yourself, you were wasted. 

The three of you had enjoyed a meal and many, many subsequent drinks. Knowing full well the two men had a distinct advantage of having had at least a year to pickle their livers in whiskey from the stress of this place, you had insisted that for every two drinks they had, you had one. . 

Still, six drinks in with no sign of stopping you felt better than you really had any right to. The room had yet to start spinning and for those small mercies, you were thankful.

“Nah, Thankyou to you both! I’ve heard Medellín is lovely this time of year!”

“Well, you won’t know. You’ll be spending all of your time on base, where it’s safe.”

“Steve-”

“Non-negotiable. You wanna come to Medellín, fine. But you do what I say, and no Y/N’s day out like in Bogotá.” 

“Dude, you’re such a buzz-kill!”

“Dude? What are you 15?!” Javier jokes with a cigarette between his lips. You’d been here only a week and yet he’d managed to navigate how to defuse an impending Murphy fight from a mile away.

“You should’a seen her at 15. Those teeth!”

“Ya’ got any pictures?” Javi asks, half distracted with flagging down the waitress and showing her five fingers.

“Really Steve, you wanna go there? After the earring incident?” Javier turns his full attention on you. 

“Murphy had an earring?”

“No-” Steve tries to interrupt.

“Yep, a nice little hoop.”

“I didn’t…”

“It got caught on his windbreaker and he ripped it out of his ear, it got infected.”

“Wind breaker?” Javier was biting his lip and staring at your brother, not really trying so hard to contain his laughter.

“Can’t think why I didn’t want you around, Sis. Look- I was trying something out; It didn’t work, so I moved on.” You wait a beat, allowing Javier to take in the information before you helpfully and without prompt drop a nugget of information for the Hispanic man.

“... He had to go to hospital.” A chortle burst unintentionally from Javier’s chest as your comment caught him by surprise. 

“Y/N!” Steve burst out in frustration, making you cackle with glee.

“Okay, Okay.” You hold your hands in mock surrender as the waitress drops another round of drinks on the table.

“Let’s head over to the discotheque, live music- no Sicario’s. Big with Bogotá policia so very safe.” Javier pitched like he was speaking to a child as he tried to convince Steve. He knew you were in from the excitement that lit up your form.

“I don’t know, dancing-”

“Would be good for you! Come on Steve, this place is closing soon anyway-” You counter, only to be cut off as he frantically looks at his watch. 

“What time is it- I promised I’d phone Con tonight- FUCK!” He stood quickly grabbing the table to steady himself and ran to the phone box just outside of the bar, you could just about see him from where you sat in the window booth besides Javi.

The two of you looked at one another for a moment, you weren’t quite at the level where conversation came easy, but you weren’t uncomfortable by any means.

“Thanks for talking to Messina for me… honestly. You’ve done so much for me since I got here.”

“Like I said, it’s no problem, guapa.” He smiles at you, not a smirk for once but a delighted easy smile that rarely graces his face. “I saw your CV.”

“Oh.” The smile drops off of your face, his eyes analyse your reaction, the easy smile replaced by a sombre expression. 

“Yeah, Oh. You were a doctor, a surgeon? I thought you mopped up vomit in a grocery store in Miami?”

“It’s complicated.” You gave him no further explanation, you expected him to move on, except Javier wasn’t like other people, he didn’t make things easy. He stared at you expectantly with those deep brown questioning eyes.  “Christ, okay. Yes I was in my final year of residency, not quite a surgeon.”

“How does that happen?”

“How does what happen?” You question, you know you’re being difficult but this isn’t something you’ve talked about with Steve, for Godsakes. He did that trick once more, hitting you with those soul-full eyes. 

Honestly, it was lucky you weren’t working for Escobar, forget waterboarding, all Javi would have to do was look at you to get you to give up your darkest secrets. “Things didn’t go my way, I wasn’t happy there. The hours were long and that shit was heavy.” 

He didn’t seem satisfied with your answer but he didn’t push any further, finally respecting your reluctance, he nodded. Stubbing out his cigarette and tilting his head towards the shots he asked “...Another?” 

“Why not?” You reply hesitantly.

Taking the salt you go to shake it onto the back of your hand when a tanned one stops your movement in its wake.

“No, no, no. Let’s do it a little different.” His eyes shot up to where your brother was leaning against the phone booth before he took your hand in his. Adjusting his grip he lifts your wrist to his mouth. Your heart is beating in your ears as you watch as his pink tongue pokes out and laps one, twice at your pulse point. A long line of saliva is left on your wrist as he shakes the salt over it. His eyes meet yours for a moment, as if asking permission. 

You don’t know how you even instruct your brain to nod, but regardless you carry out the action. Javi brings his mouth to your wrist once more in one solid stroke of his talented tongue, your eyes clamp closed as he finishes swiping up the salt before draining both the tequila and lime.

You’re breathing heavy as you open your eyes, to find those mahogany ones laser focused on you.

“You missed a step.” You mumble, your eyes never leaving his as you hold the lime up to his mouth, rind first. His teeth close over it and his lips just barely graze your fingertips. You turn to check on Steve, thankfully your brother has his back to the two of you, deep in conversation with Connie. Probably for the best, given your plan.

You turn sideways to face Javi, lifting one of your legs up onto the booth and bending it at the knee to get a vantage point. The alcohol coursing in your veins gives you the courage as one  hand wraps around his neck and the other his shoulder, you lean forwards to give one long solitary lick up his neck, right on the pulse. You taste his sweat stained skin, salty and warm on your tongue. 

Reaching for the shaker, you apply it liberally, smiling as you drop some of it down his t-shirt. Though from the stare he seemingly refused to remove from you, you don’t think he much cared.  Once you considered your job done, you turned back and pushed his head to the side and began licking the salt from his neck, this time you tortured him with three small cat licks along the flesh, you felt his neck tense as his hand moved from its place on the pleather booth and wrapped around your thigh. 

You reached back to the table and sank your shot. Wincing you turned back to Javier, leaning forward to grab the lime from his mouth. As you did so, he dropped it purposefully, staring directly into your eyes, a clear challenge, before he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you forward locking your lips in a devastating kiss. He tasted of lime, tequila and just Javier; that unexplainable component which was both sweet and smoky. His tongue plundered the depths of your mouth, seemingly uncaring of your brother who was mere metres away. Your hands roved his chest before locking in the short hair on the nape of his neck. 

Unexpectedly it was Javi who broke the kiss. The two of you paused with your foreheads meeting, much like the night you met.  He seemed to be trying to regain control.

“Meet me in the bathroom?” You whisper, rubbing your nose against his beautifully angular hooked one. He breathed out heavily through his nose, his eyes opening and pushing you away by your shoulders.

“No, I’m not gonna fuck you in the fucking bathrooms of a filthy fucking bar- are you crazy?” Behind his eyes a rage and arousal battled, apparently you had rattled him with your question, he reached forward for his whiskey, and took a sip whilst shaking his head and trying to centre himself. “I’m giving you whiplash? Yeah that’s real cute. You change what you want every single fuckin’ day, then look at me like I’m a dick.”

You supposed he had a point, after all you had been the one to ask for the redo and then stared at him longingly every day since. “It’s not an easy situation to navigate, ok? I came here for Steve-”

“You didn’t come here for Steve.” He uttered under his breath, staring straight ahead with his elbow perched on the table and holding the glass to his mouth.

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t come here for Steve, not completely. You came here for you.”

“That’s not-” Javier turns to you, locking you down with his gaze. It was easy to forget he was a cop; observative and attentive to a fault, he could call your bullshit from a mile away. 

“Everything you’ve done since you got here, that’s not for him. You’re desperate for some life back in those veins. You don’t just give up being a fuckin’ surgeon and feel fulfilled with your position at a fuckin’ grocery store, Sunshine.”

“Wow, you’ve got me pegged, huh? No wonder they’ve got you after Escobar, best detective on the fucking case.” You roll your eyes refusing to look at him, sipping a beer as a way of hiding how he’s unnerved you. Everything he’s saying true and you’re ashamed of yourself.

“You don’t come down to the embassy if you’re trying to make your brother's life easier. I’m not criticizing Guapa, but how about cutting the bullshit messiah complex.”

You’re embarrassed and trying to look anywhere but him. His hand reaches for your own as Steve rounds the corner, the tanned fingers instead lock around the shot glass in front of you. 

“So, what’d I miss?”  Your voice is lodged in your throat, you don’t think you could speak even if you could think of the words you wanted to use. Javi answers in some nondescript way you don’t even really listen to before ordering another round of drinks.

“Y/N/N, You alright?” Steve asked, ever the concerned brother.

(your nickname)

“Yeah, Javi- uh, he saw my cv.” It wasn’t a complete lie but you still feel bad for using past trauma to make your brother skirt around the issue in the way you knew he would.

“Oh, Uh… Drink?” Steve stared at you, uneasy. 

“Yeah, a drink would be great.” Your voice is monotone to even your ears, you reach forward and down the beer in front of you, desperate for this awkwardness to be over and the feeling in the pit of your stomach to vanish. You’re happy to say after around ten minutes of the two men holding up the conversation, it atleast eases slightly.

There’s a lull as you all wait drinks arrive and you have managed to regain your basic motor skills. This is the selfishness Javi is talking about. Steve needs a good night, without feeling crappy about his damaged sister stealing the lime-light. So putting your best foot forward you look across to Javi and smile.

“So, how was Connie?”

“She’s good! She’s enjoying getting back to work, her sister’s having Liv during the day.” Guilt swells in your stomach once again. You should be there making Connie’s life easier, but instead you abandoned her to play the hero in Colombia. The shame spiral is slowly clawing at your stomach, as you force yourself to take a deep breath. 

“That’s good…” You’re saved by the bell, or rather the waitress bringing over the tray of beverages. Taking your beer first, you reach across and controversially take two of the shots. Both men chuckle at your bravado as Javi asks the woman for an extra shot.

The night continued on much like that, minus the regret whirlwind as the tequila seemed to help get rid of any real self reflection. The three of you didn’t even make it to the discotheque, as by the time the bar closed, the three of you began the short walk home, you were carrying the large box of pizza that you had insisted on ordering.

Surprisingly, Steve was the drunkest of your trio. His phone call with Connie had sent him into his own spiral. He began drinking tequila like it was water, to the point Javier had thrown in the towel, deciding he’d much rather like to live to see tomorrow. So with your pizza in one arm and your other wrapped around your brother's waist, you and Javi half carried Steve home and up the stairs into the apartment. 

The two of you unceremoniously dumped him on his bed, carefully you placed the pizza box you had cradled to your breast on the chest of drawers before you stepped forward past Javier. 

You pulled Steves boots off of his feet and pulled his legs up onto his bed, taking his belongings out his pockets; yes, including his gun, you placed them on the bedside table. You then placed a glass of water and an aspirin next to them, feeling sympathy for his head tomorrow morning. 

Happy that your job was done, you shut the light off and went into the living room, once again cradling the pizza. Javier was slouched on the sofa/your bed flicking through your Spanish introduction book, as you entered the room he threw it back on the table and pointed at the empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table.

“Got any more?”

“Think, that was his last one…” you shrug.

“Come down to mine for a drink? I don’t like how we left things.”

“No more talking?” Javier looks at you reproachfully, scanning your body as if the direct proposition you’d accidentally given him was the last thing he expected. “Uh- I mean- no more hard questions and no more...touching.”

“Alright.” He nods, pushing himself up with a sigh. “But if there’s no more touching, I get half of that pizza Sunshine.”

You nod and smile, following him down the stairs to his apartment. As you cross the threshold emboldened by tequila, you don’t dwell on your self destructive tendencies as Javier’s recent comments would’ve made you if you were sober. 

You’re tired and all you want is a drink of whiskey, some pizza and for Javier to give you that smile, the one that makes the side of his mustache raises and reveals the pearly white of his teeth. Dropping the pizza down on the coffee table you make yourself at home, sitting very deliberately on the couch he hadn’t screwed someone else on. If he notices, Javi didn’t say anything. 

He hurried over, cigarette balanced in between his lips as both hands were taken up. One holding two glasses and the other cradling the whiskey. He sits himself down with considerably more grace than you had, on the other sofa. You reach down the side of the sofa where you spy the remote peeking out from beneath the leather cushion and begin skimming through the channels until you find the telenovelas you'd unironically begun watching since arriving in Colombia.

Opening the box of Pizza, you take a slice and begin devouring the meal. It’s not quite like pizza as you know it, but it's tasty and full of carbs to soak up the alcohol so you can’t find a fault with it.  The two of you eat in silence for around half an hour.

It seemed neither of you were eager to break the silence after the daunting conversation from earlier. It’s as you’re taking your first sip of whiskey watching two women argue in Spanish on the television you decide to speak.

“I figure I owe you some answers.”

“You don’t owe me shit, Sunshine.” He’s leaning back in his seat, whiskey balancing on his knee and a fresh smoke in his hand.  “Sure I’m intrigued, but I'll figure you out in the end. Miami’s own angel of death?”

You chuckle at how close to the mark he is as he makes a shot in the dark. “I’m gonna need a refill if we’re gonna talk about our feelings…”

“Feelings… woah, woah, woah. I didn’t sign up for that.” He has a brazen smirk on his face, as he takes the now empty glass from your palm and fills it up. You down a second and he repeats the task.

“I killed a kid,” You wheeze as you wince from the burn turning your head towards the television and nursing the now full whiskey glass between your hands. “You asked why I gave up becoming a surgeon. I... I was the lead resident on a fuckin’ appendectomy. I could do that shit in my sleep. I perfed the abdominal wall as I was geting ready to close him up; a tiny fucking knick. There were no bleeders and his vitals remained normal, didn’t even notice I’d done it.  It was as they were taking him back to the ward, he just crashed.”  

You finish another glass and as your eyes water, you pretend it's the burn of the alcohol. You breathe heavy, your upper lip quivering. You’ve heard of the sensation but never felt it. 

“I froze. I opened him up in the lift, by the time I got back in there, he’d bled out. A twelve year old; Justin Miller. Just a fucking kid.” Javi doesn’t try to interrupt or make you feel better, which honestly made the whole thing easier. 

“His mom sued the shit out of me and the hospital, can’t say I blame her. I took a sabbatical and when it was time to go back, I couldn’t. Couldn’t go into the OR without having a fuckin’ panic attack.” You hadn’t met Javi’s eyes for the entirety of the one-sided conversation, scared that when you looked up you’d no longer find those treacle eyes filled with warmth. 

Silence fills the air for a devastating second whilst Javier digests your words.

“You fucked up.” He mumbled finally,  your eyes shot up to his own and within the pools of chocolate you found his usual warmth, though his customary jovial expression was suddenly somber. Such an expression looked strange on the gentle man you’d come to know, but you knew it was far from out of place. “In our line of work, you mess up; someone dies. It’s not fair or easy, just is what it is.”

You don’t have a word for the noise you make, somewhere between a scoff and a gasp. You chuckle as his response to years of complex trauma you’ve never recovered from is boiled down to five simple words.

“It is what it is.” You repeat disbelieving.

“Can’t change the past. Useless to try.”

“Stuff it down with the brown?” You ask, lifting your empty glass in a cheers.

“Exactly, Guapa.” He unscrewed the whiskey bottle and began pouring you a generous portion. As he’s screwing the lid back on he sits back down, this time though he’s on the couch next to you. “Maybe someday I’ll get teary and we can talk about my fuck ups.”

Your only response is to punch at his hard thigh next to you as you take a long sip, thinking about the information you’d willingly just divulged to Javi.  “I’ve never talked about that before.”

“Not with Steve?”

“Not with anyone. I was ashamed for a long time, still am. But it’s different now; more manageable.”

“Ready to operate then, Doctor Murphy?”

“Asshole.” You say with a reluctant smile to the joke at your own expense.

“pendejo” he leaned back on the sofa as he translated. 

“pen-dejo?”

“Si muy bueno.”

“Another!” 

“Coger!”

“Co-g-er?”

“Si insistes…” He trails off with a smirk.

“You’re a dick.” 

“Yes, I am.”

After placing your drink on the coffee table, you lean over to Javi slowly, refusing to break eye contact, all the while and you lay your head on the plush leather of the sofa; nearer his shoulder than his own face. 

“Thankyou, Javi.” 

“I keep telling you, Sunshine. It’s nothing”

“It’s everything,” You close the distance and place a kiss on his lips. It’s neither heavy nor chaste, like when he initiated them. This is full of meaning, It speaks of letting go of the past and welcoming the future, it's deep and warm and delicious. Your tongue licks at his own as your hand rises to rest on his cheek holding him there, you explore the depths of his mouth instead of conquering them. He tastes of the whiskey and somehow residual tequila, you find yourself getting drunk off of the taste of him. 

Pulling away you rest your forehead against his own. “I’m so tired… and drunk.”

“Sleep with me.”

“Javier, you said- I mean, I don’t think-”

“No, sleep. Just sleep... with me. Gotta be better than the couch up there,”

“No funny business?”

“Scouts honor.”  After a moment of contemplation you decide that this was specifically breaking the rules of your selfishness, the tequila may have altered your perception of the rules somewhat but you had wanted this man for so long. After your emotional confession, falling asleep next to him seemed cathartic.

You take the remote once more and click the red power button, the screen goes black as Javier has already disappeared into his bedroom. You hear him rummaging around in his drawers as you cross the threshold. Once he’s seemingly found what he was looking for, he holds the article up to your inspecting eye. 

It’s a plain olive green v-neck tee, nothing particularly special about it, but it would do as pyjamas, so you accept it gratefully, much preferring a tshirt to the sundress you’d worn out to dinner. You push the straps off of your shoulders, letting them fall under your armpits as you clutch the dress to your front. You pull Javier's t-shirt over your head and are greeted by the fragrance you’d come to love. It smelt like washing powder, spice and cigarette smoke, you wouldn’t say smoke was on your top tier of smells list but it reminded you of Javi so you couldn’t bring yourself to turn your nose up at it. 

Once the shirt was covering all the important bits, you lowered your dress and stepped out of the offending cloth. 

“A little late for modesty, eh?” He smirks as he lights his cigarette, leaning against the pillows of the bed. He was referring to the morning after you’d arrived in Colombia, where you’d walked through this very apartment, bare as the day you were born. 

At some point Javi had rid himself of his dress shirt and dropped onto the bed still wearing his jeans. You shimmy your bra down the sleeve of the tee, to make a point. Winking at him as you finally pull it free. You fling it on top of where your dress lay abandoned. 

“You’re still a perv for that.” You smile fondly at the man as you clamber over to your side of the bed. He’d taken the left, closest to the door. He doesn’t reply as you make yourself cosy, under the thin blanket of the duvet.

You roll over to face him, he seems to be miles away. 

“Where’d you go?” You ask softly, though he startles still. 

“I’m right here,” He deflects, leaning over to the ash tray to stub the smoke out.

“Ok…” You roll your eyes as he turns off the lamp and lies flat on the bed next to you. The two of you are silent for a while. It’s not quite awkward but it's definitely not comfortable silence, the two of you know the implications of your decision tonight. Even if Javi is being a perfect gentleman. Your eyes have yet to acclimate to the dark as you stare out trying to search for his form. 

“Stop staring at me.”

“It’s dark, I’m not staring at anything.” You reply to his childish remark. You hear a chuckle catch in his throat. He seems then to have finally made his decision, he reaches forward and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest. You go to stop him, but there's nothing to stop. He makes no further move as he holds you there. Your cheek rests on the overheated skin of his pectoral, it has just enough give to be comfier than any pillow you’ve ever encountered. 

“Maybe, I’ll tell you about my fuck ups one day.” He whispers into your hair, despite the way he says it being non-committal there's a promise behind the words. You don’t reply, already drifting off into the best sleep you’ve had since arriving in Colombia, or perhaps ever. 

A part of your brain registers Javi placing a kiss on the crown of your head as your eyes finally shut, though it is quickly replaced by the singular thought of ‘God, I hope I don’t drool all over him.

                                                       “You sober?” You look up at the clock on the bedside table that reads 5am. You’d been asleep for about four hours. You make a non committal noise in your throat. 

“Javi?” You mumble sleepily, the man behind you is peppering kisses on your neck.

“You want this?” Again you groan, this time however, you nod your head. His arm rises to wrap around your neck, arching your back to get you closer to him. “Do you want this?”

“God yes.” You gasp, pushing your hips back against his bulge. His hands release your stomach as he kisses down your neck once more. His hands are hard on your flesh as they map out your body in the dark.

His hands continue to roam your body as they slide under his shirt, they land on your breasts, he can’t help himself as he weighs them in his hand. He groans in your ear at the feel of them in his palm. You’d always had Javier down as an ass man, he’d nearly burnt a hole through your jeans the night you’d met. But apparently Javi was a man of many tastes as he worshiped your nipple with the pads of his fingers, rolling the sensitive bud through his thumb and forefinger. 

You groan at the sensation and push yourself back into him, desperate to feel every inch of his body against your own. You pull away suddenly and he makes a guttural sound in the back of his throat, though all of his questions are answered as you pull his shirt over your head and throw the offensive fabric across the room. As Quick as a flash he’s back on you, his mouth attached to your neck, giving you absolutely no quarter. 

He’s the one bucking into you this time and that seems to awaken part of your brain, your hands reach behind you they’re clumsy from sleep and the angle you have is awkward, you struggle with the button of his jeans for a second before his hand leaves one of your breasts to undo it for you. His hand returns as quickly as it left though it doesn't stay there for long as it slowly roves south, stroking the flesh of your stomach and making your entire being tighten up in anticipation as he feels you through your boy shorts. His touches are light at first, testing and exploring your body, before his fingers begin teasingly rubbing at your clit seeming to delight in the way, your wetness seeped through your underwear.

You force your brain back to the task at hand as your hand finds his abdomen and lowers through the hair lurking below his zipper, mimicking the actions he had performed on you moments before, however you have no intention of teasing. 

They find their mark, and you have to stop yourself from gasping. You’d felt him on the sofa that night but my god, your imagination hadn’t done him justice as your hand just about closed around him as you pumped him awkwardly behind you. He groaned in your ear and began whispering in a blend of Spanish and English.

His hands rise to dip under your panties, they brush across your mound before they find their home. His fingers barely touch you at first, seeming to be getting the lay of the land. After a moment of teasing, a single solitary finger swipes slowly along your slit, gathering the evidence of your arousal on his fingers. 

He groaned in your ear. “So fucking wet, that sweet little cunt is so ready for me…” Instantaneously you lose all motor skills as your body goes into shock, Javier’s dirty mouth would be the death of you.

Fucksake Y/N he wasn’t even inside of you, yet here you were writhing in his arms like a wanton whore from a single sentence. 

Your reaction seemed to spur him on as he let go of your body and rolled you onto your back. He swung around on his knees to fit between your legs. His hands rested on your hips, gripping onto the panties that lay there before he rolled them down your legs and threw them behind him. He leaned forward on his elbows, to stare at the most intimate part of you. 

Javi began kissing down your thighs, placing small bites along the sensitive skin along the way, getting closer and closer to the throbbing warmth of your pussy. 

“I meant what I said, cariño. I want to know how you taste.” Your mind is brought back to that church, the way he had you pushed against those bars, you didn’t think your body could constrict any further. You were desperate for any kind of contact. And you knew right there and then that you had been right; This man would destroy you. 

He struck then, much like a cobra towards his prey. His tongue flattened against your warmth, breaching your folds and catching on your clit.  The tip of his tongue was skilled as it danced along your bud, drawing cry after cry from you as your hands grabbed at his short ink black hair. 

He takes one final lap at your swollen clit before his tongue goes lower, he pushes through and sinks his tongue inside of you. His nose, that you’d appreciated for its character bumped perfectly against your clit making stars shoot behind your eyes.  You clenched around his tongue, desperate to be filled, he seemed to get the message as two fingers were quickly buried in your aching hole. 

“So fucking tight,  Guapa, I don’t know if I can fit three...te lo vas a tomar tan bien.” His tongue had risen back up to your clit, the combination of the vibration and filth of his words made a whimper drop from your lips, before he started rotating his tongue in circles around your swollen bud as his two fingers pumped in and out of your cunt at a thundering pace drawing you closer and closer to the edge as the minutes went by.

Finally, his fingers curled inside you as he sucked your clit into his mouth and all at once you were pushed off the cliff. You couldn’t tell what pushed you over that first peak so quickly, maybe it was the fact that it was Javier, the man who had been plaguing your dreams since you arrived in Colombia, currently between your legs devouring your cunt like a starving man, perhaps it was a culmination of five days of foreplay, but whatever the reason, when you fell, you fell fucking hard. 

You clenched around Javi’s fingers like a vice, so much so he hissed into your pussy and began thrusting his fingers faster. Spots clouded your vision as your whole body curved upwards and around the man giving you this pleasure as your legs clamped around his head and your fingers must have scratched his scalp as your hips thrust, riding his face to your peak. You were as taut as bowstring before the tension finally snapped and your body exploded in euphoria. You let out a cry as you crescendo on Javi's talented tongue.

He didn’t stop straight away, even after your body slumped back against the bed, he coaxed you through the aftermath of your orgasm, lapping at your entrance and drinking your come like it was the most delicious wine he’d ever sampled, groaning all the while.

Finally, he pushed himself forward, kissing at your thighs, your mound and finally your stomach as he came to rest over you, holding all his weight on his elbows. His face met your own as he kissed you deep, fucking your mouth with his tongue as he had done your pussy moments before. He leans back rubbing at your stomach, at your hips, at any flesh he can get his hands on. 

“Sabes mejor de lo que podría haber imaginado precioso.” He whispers against your breast as his mouth locks around your nipple. Javier Peña speaking Spanish did things to you, even if he hadn’t been stimulating your breasts you knew for a fact you’d be just as wet from hearing him speak in what you could only assume was a first language from the ease with which it left his mouth. You wished more than anything you could understand what was undoubtedly the filth coming from his mouth. 

You had recovered enough from his assault on your clit, to move your hands from your sides. They raised up and traced the tanned skin on his chest. He really was beautiful. He pulled back to stare at you, giving you a clearer view of his body.

He was muscled yet lithe and you took a self indulgent moment, committing the sight of him to memory, before your hands wrapped around his cock, which was standing to full attention through the undone zip of his jeans. He was what must have been unbearably hard, if you’d have had light to see, you had no doubt the head of his cock would be purple, straining with need. You pushed his jeans further down, recruiting your feet to push them down over his ass. Your hands roamed down to squeeze at the bountiful offering of meaty flesh. 

He chuckled as you pinched his cheek, before lifting his knees one at a time and kicking his jeans off of the bed and before you knew it he was lining himself up, brushing the head of his cock through your wet folds. Despite his groan at the contact, he had the discipline to check a final time. “This is what you want, Y/N?”

You didn’t bother to answer, you pushed his hand away from his cock, and pushed it towards your hole. You pushed your hips up against him in lieu of an answer, welcoming the head of his cock inside you. Even though all you could manage was shallow entry, the feel of him inside of you was glorious. 

 His hands, those talented, glorious hands found your own, wrapping his significantly larger ones around yours above your head. He pushed forward with one strong thrust of those lithe hips and he buried himself balls deep inside of you, rooted so deep you swear you could feel him in your cervix. He was everywhere, he was plundering every inch of you as his body surrounded your own, heat built between the two of you as sweat began coating both of your bodies. 

Every thrust brought you closer to your second peak, turning your head you couldn’t resist trying to get him to claim your mouth too. Though you couldn’t quite reach far enough to make contact, as if reading your mind Javier bent his elbow pushing his torso forward, coincidently pounding deeper into your body as your lips joined in a messy kiss.  He was fucking into you slow and deep, his tongue began following the rhythm of his cock as he claimed every single part of you as his own. 

The pace was brutally slow, just enough to get you to that edge and keep you on it, you could barely speak. You felt like you were drowning in Javier and every time you came up for air he bottomed out, meeting your hips with his own and the wave of pleasure cut off the oxygen all over again.

“Please… Javi…”

“W-what do you want Sunshine?” He panted out continuing with his slow tempo.

“Faster...please... God.” He ignored your cry for speed and continued fucking you into the matress at his own pace, though his thrusts were just as slow but they were harder. His hips hit against your own, as he put all of his power behind them, getting as deep as he could. If you didn’t know better you’d think he was trying to tunnel through to your womb. You clenched at the thought as he fucked you deep and hard. 

“... Javi…” You cried his name, a desperate plea as he kept you suspended over your peak, refusing to let you free fall. Finally he huffed, taking your legs and throwing them over his shoulders.

“You want me to fuck you properly, huh, Guapa?” He began thrusting into you at an arduous pace, the room was filled with your cries, his grunts and slapping of your connecting skin. Those telling black spots were clouding your vision, your second orgasm of the evening was fast approaching. Once again you clenched down on Javi’s thick cock. 

“I’m gonna’ come.” His hand lowered and began rubbing at your clit, not pausing for a moment as he fucked you thoroughly. 

“ven por mí...ven sobre mi polla… fuckin’ Sunshine, fucking taking my cock…. buena niña, podría follarte todo el día.” The second he lost his brain and began muttering in Spanish was the moment you were gone. You came for the second time as he was relentlessly hammering into you, drawing your orgasm from you. Your whole body braced against him, your eyes squeezed shut as you clamped down around his cock, milking him tightly.

“Fuck!” He growled at the tightness surrounding him. 

After a few moments he pulled out, quickly grabbing your and flipping you onto your stomach, after placing a pillow under your hips. He then buried himself back inside of you to the hilt his groans mixing with your own at the sensation. He kept up the pace he had before but this time the angle was deeper as he forced your legs together with his thighs. 

Javi’s hands grabbed at your ass (perhaps he was an ass man after all) slapping the meaty flesh which resided there and then instantly kneaded the tissue he’d just abused. His hands rose to carresse the skin of your hips before he took a punishing grip on them and began fucking you in earnest. Javier taking his pleasure from your body whilst you lay a drooling mess from the orgasm he’d already gave you was an image you didn’t know would turn you on, but it made you clench around his shaft as it plundered your depths. 

He began speaking again, though they were lost in a mix of Spanish and English, so much so you couldn’t differentiate. His pace was relentless and finally you felt him begin to shake as he gasped above you

“¿dónde?...w...where?”

“Come inside me, Javi.” He groaned at words and continued pounding until his hips stuttered and he brought it home and buried himself deep inside, filling you to the brim with his seed.  

The two of you lay there breathing heavy trying hard to get your breath back, half of his weight on top of you and the other half resting on the mattress.His cock was slowly going soft inside of you, yet you felt no urgency to move.

“So much for scouts honor, huh?” You ask from behind a veil of hair, turning your face which had been buried in the mattress moments before. Your voice is hoarse; completely wrecked much like the rest of you. 

He’s silent for a moment of consideration, before he leans forward in the moonlight and pushes your hair from your face. The action makes his cock shift inside of you and a little of his release spills out onto your thighs. He continues anyway and places a soft kiss on your lips before whispering “... I was never a boy scout, cariño.”

TAGLIST - Leave a message if you’d like to be added homies.

@drinkingwhileblogging @va-guardianhathaway  @jedi-jesi @obsessivelysearching @cannedsoupsucks @wantingtobekorra @littlemissoblivious @linnie0119 @pascalesque @pedrosmustache @sir-lili @obsessivelysearching @fairytale07

A/N: Fuck me that was the steamest shit I’ve ever written. This was especially for @drinkingwhileblogging and her turquoise titties, hope this makes up for me blue balling you all. 

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪꜱ ɢᴏɴᴇ | ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛ

After thinking about it and reading Admin T’s angsty fic, I too, have decided to post my own angsty fic, and why not a Levi one? SKSKSK He’s the one that comes to me the easiest when it comes to writing anything, so I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did with writing it~! 

Please note there will be canon divergence (mainly as I haven’t caught up in the manga or anime in a hot second) 

And yes, I listened to Love is Gone by Slander & Dylan Matthew to get in the mood LOLOL

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 

TW: Major Character Death ; Depressive episodes ; PTSD ; Mental Instability ; Body Mutilation

» » Admin Ko

“Levi! LEVI! GET OUT OF HERE! PLEASE! GET AWAY---”

A sharp inhale and the bright white light of the morning sun was all that welcomed the ex-corporal as he sat rigidly in his bed.  Slowly, frantic metallic blue eyes skimmed down to battered and scarred hands as he watched his body move in an odd state of delirium. Oddly fixated on the way his knuckles paled and how tightly he grasped his sheets, Levi hadn’t even realized the painful sting in his lungs as the cool slick of sweat dripped down the nape of his neck.

It was a barrage of movements from there, his eyes remaining unfocused as he watched the chaos that spilled in his bedroom from an out of body perspective. It was...odd to say the least. He watched familiar faces come to calm his body down, easing him back into a sense of reality as he watched the cogs in his own face work to ease up the grip he once had on the sheets and the trembling he had ceased.

Another flash and he found himself back in his own body, blankly staring down at his scarred hands once again. The room was left barren all over again as he found himself staring out the window and into the gorgeous scenery before him. 

It hadn’t been that long since they had discovered the truth behind the entire catastrophe they found themselves in, yet it felt as though it was ages ago since he’s stepped forth outside. Or had it? If Levi were being honest, he couldn’t remember shit, and that itself only added to his agitation as he glared at the empty walls he was trapped in.

“Fuck...”

Clenching his teeth, the ex-corporal forced himself to get out of bed. A strange tug in his heart drew him towards the desk hidden within the corner of the room. Strewn across the poorly put together desk were notes, plans, letters, photographs, and...a locket?

Perhaps it was his age that was getting to him, or maybe it was the heat, but what was so important about this shitty piece of jewelry? Slowly picking up the accessory, Levi gave a brief once over to it before feeling a scoff build in his throat.

“Tch, it’s probably Lt. (L/N)’s.....”

Slowly, the words faltered from falling out of his throat as he felt his heart skip a beat. Cool metallic blue hues suddenly vibrant with evident fear as flashes of red and torn limbs flashed in his eyes. The quickening of his breath went unheard as he suddenly leaned over the table. Those scarred hands that have seen days of combat suddenly felt numb as the telltale sign of pins and needles crawled their way down to his fingers.

“Levi? Levi~~ Levi! LEVI!”

Flashes of her face swam through his vision as the once clear image of his desk became fragmented as he dropped to the floor. He didn’t even feel his knees dig into the floor-- rather he couldn’t care less as he desperately clung onto the locket as the memories from a week ago resurfaced into his mind. The tears that he once thought had dried up began pouring down his cheeks as the ache in his chest multiplied.

»»————- ♪ ————-««

The rustling of leaves caught his attention. Despite the cool weather they’ve finally been given it still brought the ex-corporal a sense of unease as he watched the small party work around in gathering materials whilst discussing their next plan of action. 

It hadn’t been long since they’ve dealt with Kenny and his gang, but if Levi was certain of one thing it was that he didn’t want to cross paths with that man ever again. Already he barely managed to scrape by whilst making sure their original plan had worked.

“Oi, dipshit.”

“Tch.”

No matter how hard he sought to smack that cheeky smile off of her face, he never found the heart to do it. Not when she held his with such a pretty smile. 

“You’re spacing out again. Kenny’s bullshit still getting to you?”

“...”

“Oh come on, you can tell me~.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oooh~ Touchy touchy. Look, if it makes you feel any better, I thought you were pretty badass!”

A skip to his heart. Something that wasn’t uncommon when he found himself with her. Of course he’d never let her know, instead he gave her a roll of his eyes before kicking her away.

“Get back to work.”

“Fine fine~. Oh! But in all seriousness, whatever is looming in that brooding mind of yours, just remember we still got the plan done. Whatever happened in the past is whatever. We just gotta look toward the future, yeah?”

“...tch. Hurry up and get the fuck over there already. Those damn shit wads look like they’re going to break their backs.”

A mock salute, one that he found endearing in her own quirky way though when he least suspected it she was right back up in his face. A cocky little smirk graced her lips before those chapped yet soothingly familiar feel of her lips brushing his own registered in his brain, and before he could react she was merrily skipping towards the struggling ex-cadets.

“...you’re damn lucky I love you shitty (y/n)...”

➽───────────────❥

BANG

“Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck!”

BOOM BOOM CRASH

“HOW THE FUCK DID THEY GET HERE?! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!”

SCREEEEEECCHHHHHHH

Hell on earth, better known as the mass migration of Titans. One minute he was seated with Armin. Easily discussing strategies and the next movement for their plans. The moment he blinked the makeshift tents they had were on fire. Smoke was rising to the skies and the screams of people filled his ears. Immediately, Levi reacted. Rushing to grab his swords he mentally checked off a list of what needed to be done. Yet before he could even reach his own gear the hissing telltale sign of someone whisking into action caught his ears.

The reaction was immediate as he looked up to see fierce (e/c) hues. Calloused hands he’s held plenty of times underneath tables were now clenched tightly around her swords as she went about luring as many titans away as she could. 

“...evi, Levi, CAPTAIN LEVI!”

Shocked out of his stupor he turned to face Connie who was frantically grabbing at his arm as he finally took the chance to take in the scene before him.

Whatever carts they had salvaged were packed away with what little they could save. The bodies of those who had already fallen were hanging from the trees and already in the distant background he saw the revolting sight of a wretched up human meatball. 

“Status?”

“We’ve lost at l-least a couple of hands. Captain (y/n) told us to gather as much as we could and to gain distance while she distracts them--”

“Is there back up with her?”

“..N-No sir...”

“Are you fucking STUPID? Tch, get moving Springer. (y/n) and I will catch up shortly.”

“B-But”

“Did. I. Stutter.”

“N-No sir...”

“Then get moving!”

Not even taking the chance to watch the male rush back to the small party of cadets, Levi hurriedly put his harness and gear on in record time before whisking himself towards the sound of gurgling and inhumane sounds. 

“Just stay alive....please, I can’t lose you too...”

➽───────────────❥

Horrific. That’s the best that he could describe the sight before him. The carcasses of fallen allies and titans alike littered the ground as the once distant storm clouds drew in close. The light sprinkling of rain undoubtedly triggered a wave of unnecessary deja vu as he trudged on until he saw a lone figure standing a top the last titan from the herd. 

Suddenly, the once tight hold around his heart loosened as a breath he didn’t know he was holding finally escaped his throat as he relaxed his stance.

“Oi shit for brains. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Oh! Levi! I thought you were with the others?”

“And leave a shitty captain like you to half ass the job?”

“Heh, you know it’s okay to admit you were worried about me stupid. It’s just us.”

Another roll of his eyes was given as he begrudgingly made his way towards her, a half assed smile gracing his features as he held his hand out towards her.

“Tch, you’re lucky I fucking love you shit for brains.”

The smile she gave was blinding. One that he surely could never find an immunity to as he savored the warmth of her calloused hand in his own scarred and tainted ones.

“Heh~ I love you too shitty corporal~.”

With that, the pair began their journey towards the base. A brief conversation in regards to how much compressed air was left in their tanks being their main worry as they walked. Though as that continued the rain that had once sprinkled began to heavily pour down. A sound of irritation left his lips as she lightly laughed, easily scooting herself closer to him as he begrudgingly wrapped an arm around her waist.

“This rain makes things just as bad, doesn’t it?”

“Yea---”

“....Levi?”

“Sh!”

Immediately a sense of dread filled his chest as he tugged her towards a tree, quickly hiding by the base as the loud crashes and thumps of footsteps prevailed throughout the lands. 

“...dammit....how much gas do you have left?”

“....Enough to swing by two of those big ass trees.”

A grimace. Again, that pool of dread seemed to fill faster as he subconsciously held onto her tightly. He had enough gas to swing back to at least the vicinity of the planned meet up spot, but with an additional body? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps if he were able to split it.

“We’re switching tanks--”

“No we’re not. You are going to keep your goddamn tanks and I’ll keep mine. Worse comes to worse you leave me here.”

“I’m not leaving you--”

A quick kiss to his lips as her fists bunched up his dress shirt. If he felt a tremble in her hands or the way her lips wobbled he didn’t mention it.

“Look. We both know that between the two of us you’re the one who has the best deduction and quick thinking. If it had to be one or the other....it has to be you.”

“Shut the fuck up. We’re going back together.”

“Levi...”

“No! shut the fuck up. I’m not leaving you behind. I’ve lost too many fucking people! I can’t lost you too! You’re....you’re all I have left in this shitty world...please (y/n)...”

Though before she could even reply a sharp scream came from her as he was roughly pushed to the side. On instinct her hands moved to hold the swords attached to her hips before jetting off for a nearby tree.

In response, the large titan moved for her. It’s large beady eyes leering at it’s new prey as she tightly grasped her blades.

“(y/n)!”

Levi didn’t even recognize his own voice as he went to grab his own swords. His fingers itching to press the triggers for the canisters, yet he was cut short at her voice and the shaky glare she gave him. One that only further plummeted his heart into his stomach as she gave him a trembilng grin.

“I got this! Just go and don’t turn back okay? I’ll be right behind you!”

“BULL SHIT. YOU BARELY HAVE ENOUGH GAS IN THOSE TANKS--”

“WELL I WAS LYING OKAY? NOW GO! I CAN HANDLE THIS ONE!”

“THEN LET’S---”

ROOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR

As if the distress wasn’t enough, the quick rumbling of earth and stone had both captains pale as (y/n) tightly held onto her blades. Her gaze no longer on the titan before her, but rather the hoard that was nearing their now disclosed location.

“...Levi you have to go.”

“No. We’re doing this together.”

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE PLEASE LEVI! JUST GO. YOU WON’T HAVE ENOUGH GAS BY THE END OF THIS JUST PLEASE GO!”

“WHAT IF I DON’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK? I’M NOT LEAVING YOU SHIT FOR BRAINS!” 

Gritting her teeth, she mustered up as much strength as she could as she hurriedly reached for the smoke gun. Without a moment’s notice, she shot the pellet. A trail of black littering the skies as she gave the other a glare.

“THERE. THEY’LL COME HERE TO HELP SO PLEASE GO AND BRING THEM HERE. I CAN HANDLE THIS ONE MYSELF AND THEN I’LL SWING UP.”

Gritting his teeth, he could only give her a stern glare as he reluctantly did as he was told. Without a moment’s delay he shot forth, desperate in tracking the familiar wagon to bring back reinforcements as the sound of a titan hitting the floor brought him a sense of ease.

“Damn you (y/n) you better keep your fucking word!”

. . . 

“I’m sorry Levi...I lied...I don’t have enough to swing up...”

Teary eyed, she let her tanks drop to the grounds below as her racing heart seemed to be in beat with the thundering steps of the hoard of titans on their way towards the sound of the fallen one’s cry. Subconsciously, she pressed her fist to her chest. Why? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she just had to keep it safe for him.

➽───────────────❥

Upon spotting the rickety wagon, Levi jetted straight for the reins. His eyes frantic as the leftover cadets near him seemed shaken by his brutish actions. He didn’t necessarily care though. What mattered to him was reaching (y/n)’s side with her seated on one of the thick branches with that cheeky grin he adored while he and the rest of the moving cadets could annihilated the hoard of titans.

Yet when he returned the pit in his stomach formed into that of utter despair. Where he should’ve seen (y/n) he found nothing. Instead, he saw the tattered remains of her cloak pinned to the tree as the hoard of demons fought over something...some...thing...some...one.

He didn’t know what happened next. Rather he couldn’t. As if his lungs had suddenly malfunctioned and stopped working. He hadn’t even realized he had jetted out from the wagon. All he saw was a glimpse of her bloody face and suddenly he saw red. 

It was an utter rampage. Sounds of desperation, anger, and hurt filled the skies as the rain continued to pour down relentlessly. The titans that had once stood tall now laid in horrifying dismembered piles. (y/n)’s body-- rather what was left of it. 

Ripped from the torso down, her legs were practically disintegrated. Most likely stewing away in one of the fallen titans’ bodies. A brief flash of her spine had most turning away to vomit, yet Levi stared lifelessly. His body trudging slowly to her as his lower lip wobbled. The pain in his chest multiplied tenfold as those warm (e/c) were glassy and unfocused. 

I'm sorry, don't leave me I want you here with me

Dropping to his knees, he gently cupped her cheeks as he pressed his forehead to hers. A shaky breath finally escaping him as he struggled to take in another breath of air as the rain continued it’s assault on him.

I can't breathe, I'm so weak

“Fuck... come on shit for brains... open those beautiful eyes for me...come on...yeah? You said we were gonna go see those damn pink trees...right?”

No response. Not that anyone had expected one. Forcefully breathing in he forced a weak smile onto his trembling features as his sight began to blur.

“C’mon (y/n)...stop playing these fucking games and look at me...c’mon.... I know you can dumbass...”

The pain in his chest amplified as the lack of response continued to shake her. An attempt to wake her up as he blatantly ignored the lack of legs and the disgustingly slow plops of viscera staining the grassy floors.

“Fucking shit (y/n) wake the fuck up. I’m tired of these fucking games. If you keep doing this bullshit I wont take you to see those damn trees you’re obsessed with when we fix this shit...”

Flashes of bodies. Each familiar to him in their own sickening way as a wretched sob came out of his chest. Desperately, he held her close. The care he had for his clothes now out the window as he buried his face into the crook of her neck as he shook with rage and absolute pain.

Don't tell me that your love is gone That your love is gone

➽───────────────❥

The ride was silent. Just the clopping horseshoes whilst he tightly held onto the bundle that was, in his words, a sleeping (y/n).

“...Captain?”

“What is it Arlert?”

Despite the clear hoarseness in his voice, Levi still held a bite to his voice. The lack of emotion in his eyes was pitiful, especially knowing how many loved ones the man has lost.

“...As we were cleaning Captain (y/n) up...we...found this.”

A tilt of his head was given, and before he could ask any questions the glittering of metal caught his attention.

“It’s a locket...I apologize I peeked inside...but I feel as though she would want you to have this.”

»»————- ♪ ————-««

Red rimmed eyes stared at the photo. It was something she had suggested-- stupid if you had asked him in the moment, but at this moment he couldn’t help but tightly hold onto the only photo of her left. Bringing the locket to his chest, the strong captain curled up into a ball as a new wave of emotions overcame him.

Having cried all his tears out, all that came out of him left were weakened whimpers and desperate heavy breaths as he tightly curled around the locket. The demolished state of the room proved to be a perfect depiction of his mind as the letters she wrote for fun back then were sprawled all around him. The sheets from the bed now in a makeshift nest around him as bloodied hands cupped the locket. 

“Why was it you...why couldn’t it have been me?”

A flash of her smile. The sweet harmonies of her laughter. Adoring warm (e/c) hues.

“...why couldn’t it have been m e?”

[the-mostdiabolik-of-lovers]

(TW mental health/abuse) How would Ayato handle a s/o with c-PTSD that's gotten worse in the last few months? E.g. they're preoccupied with old traumas, they can be easily depressed/frightened, can't handle too many noises at once, have almost no esteem, get overwhelmed or blame themselves etc. Sorry for a specific ask, I got a tentative diagnosis recently and am trying to cope

Ava: I’m really sorry to hear about your situation, anon. I hope for all the best with you being able to move forward and get stronger. You’re in my thoughts, of course. Take care now, please.

                                   ┕━♔━┙

Ayato: Titless, look at me. Right in the eyes.

Ayato: I’m your rock, yeah? Obviously with someone big and strong like me here, you’ve got nothing to worry about. 

Ayato: I always protect what’s mine, you know. As long as you’re mine, you’ve got worth, and no one can say otherwise!

Ayato: You come right to me when you’ve gotta problem. All I’ve gotta do is hold you close, like this, and the problem’ll fade.

[roguerogerss]

A Long Day of Saving Your Ass

(gif isn’t mine, creds to the owner!)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Plot: “Hi darlin! If you’re still taking requests could you do a Bucky x reader where she gets her ass saved from literal death by Bucky during a mission and she refuses to leave his side on the way back or at the tower? And he gives her a back/foot massage to make her nerves calm down aaand they may or may not share a kiss bc they like each other? I hope that makes sense, tysm! 💞” - requested by anon

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: mentions of fights/blood/kinda ptsd but not really? she’s pretty much just really shaken up and Bucky’s cute and protective as hell about it. also kinda sexual themes towards the end, no smut or anything though it’s all fluff!

(A/N: first of all, thank you so much for all of the love on my last fic, it really really does mean the world and that was just totally insane. okay, so, this request only came in yesterday, but I was so in love with the concept and had this wave of ideas for what I could write, and so here it is! thank you so much for this one, bby! as always, requests are open for any marvel boy you want, plus any of the stranger things boys. i do smut too hehe. any feedback is so welcome and appreciated, it really helps! please like and reblog!)

————

The quinjet was ready to take off, engine on, Steve behind the wheel. But Y/N wasn't there yet. They'd been holding off on leaving, giving her time to get out and the opportunity to do it without help, but Bucky had been antsy since he'd gotten on the vehicle and realised that she wasn't there.

It wasn't exactly a secret that he liked her, in a way that he hadn't really liked anyone in over seventy years. He'd never admitted it to anyone, not even to himself out loud, but you have to have a certain level of intelligence and basic sight to join the Avengers in the first place, and it wasn't hard to figure out.

Y/N was oblivious to it, rolling her eyes whenever Natasha teased her about 'Bucky's little crush', never taking it seriously. If she'd known that they were really serious about it, she wouldn't have hesitated to make a move. She was inherently forward, had no sense of shame whatsoever, it was common knowledge that she would've said something, at the very least.

"Hey, Y/N, where are you right now?" Bucky spoke into the intercoms, earning wide eyed glances from the rest of the team. They knew that she hated being rushed, hated being babied even more, and the fact that Bucky was doing both was probably about to blow up in all of their faces.

There were obvious sounds of struggle on her end as she answered back with a grunt, "South side, got ten guys on my case. Think I can handle it, though."

"We're ready to leave, Y/N." Bucky grunted, leaning forward in his seat and chewing at his lip. He was met back with a crash and a strangled groan from the assassin, making him shoot up and towards the exit of the ship.

"Bucky, where are you going? She'll kill you if you try to help her-" Tony was standing now, too, worried about his teammate, but figuring that she'd find some way out. Bucky shook his head and pressed the button to open the escape hatch.

"She's going to die if I don't help her, Stark. Keep the engine running, we'll be back in a second." And he was gone with that. Steve closed the hatch, radioing to Bucky to 'keep in touch' as he did so.

Bucky pulled his machine gun from the holster on his back, shooting two guards that were stationed at the front entrance of the Hydra base that they'd sneakily infiltrated, managing to only cause a few minor scenes. He was inside and backed against a wall, scoping out his route to the south side of the building, without wasting a second.

His feet pounded on the metal stairs as he made his way down to where they'd been earlier, where he knew that Y/N still was, and he looked around himself cautiously, gears in his arm turning.

He could hear the fight before he could see it, and he could tell from the noises that Y/N wasn't doing so well. A lot of crashing, thuds, groans mostly from her. The sight wasn't exactly easy to look at either, she was covered in blood, slumped against a wall and kicking her legs wildly while one of the agents held a gun to her temple.

Bucky knew that he had to act fast, and so he shot the agent with the gun without giving away his position, and then proceeded to open fire on the rest of them, trusting in the fact that Y/N knew how to dodge a bullet.

When he was sure that the agents were dead, each one of them crumpled in heaps on the floor, he slung his gun back over his shoulder and ran for Y/N, who let out a relieved sigh upon seeing Bucky. "Oh my God, Buck." She whispered. She wasn't sure what she meant by the words, what she wanted to convey in them, but he seemed to pick up just fine as he wrapped his arms around her shaking and compacted body.

"You're okay, I've got you." He rested his head on top of hers for a second, breathing heavy, just allowing himself to enjoy how it felt to have his body draped over hers. "We've gotta go, okay?"

"I can't run." She said assertively, knowing that there was no way that she'd be able to get up and run like hell, like Bucky seemingly wanted her to. He nodded once, gave her an apologetic smile, and then scooped her up into his arms without another word.

She scrambled to grip onto his black jacket, a gasp leaving her mouth as he picked her up from the floor, flesh arm supporting the backs of her knees and the metal one around her shoulders. He chuckled at her reaction, the way that she white-knuckled the leather of his combat jacket. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna drop you."

"How do you expect me to believe that?" She croaked, trying her hardest to be her usual, sardonic self, but failing miserably as she realised just how fast and hard her heart was beating.

"Because I just saved you from at least ten guys who wanted to kill you within a minute, I'm not dropping you." Bucky replied as he ascended the stairs and she buried her face in his chest, the smell of his cologne relaxing her. He allowed a soft smile to cross his face, bringing his metal hand to her head and almost rocking her like an infant or a small child who had a nightmare.

For Tony saying that she hated being 'babied', she seemed to enjoy it when it was coming from Bucky.

They were back at the ship within a few minutes. Steve had taken off, and Bucky had gone to sit in the back of the ship on his own. Or at least, he'd wanted to sit in the back of the ship on his own, but Y/N was so shaken up and had looked at him like she was a lost puppy when he'd tried to leave her alone, and so he smiled and told her to come with him.

Everyone else had looked between themselves, grinning like mad. "He really likes her." Steve commented and Natasha nodded.

"She really likes him, I'm well aware of that fact." She said.

"I've never seen The Winter Soldier so caring. And, was that - sorry if this seems outlandish - a smile? On Bucky Barnes' face? Surely not." Tony pitched in, leaning back in his chair while his friends laughed.

Meanwhile, Y/N was curled up in a chair, chewing at her fingernails and dabbing at her bloody face with a wet cloth that Bruce had given her the second that she'd gotten on the ship. Bucky watched her, his heart breaking at the way that her hands shook as she brought them to her face, at the way that her entire body shook.

"Hey." He placed a tender and soothing hand on her back, rubbing gentle circles there. "It's okay, you're safe now."

She gave him a wobbly smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and placed her hand over his, allowing him to interlock their fingers. "Yeah. Safe now."

————

She still hadn't left his side, apart from briefly so that she could take a shower. He'd offered to come back to her room with her when she'd hovered around the lounge while everyone else had already dispersed, reminding her that no one was going to hurt her.

She was laying on her bed, hair wet and wearing nothing but a big shirt, while Bucky sat awkwardly on the edge of it, twisting the sheets between his fingers. "You don't have to sit there, you know. I have a sofa, or you can sit back."

Bucky shook his head and looked round at her, she was still visibly shaking, eyes darting around to show just how on edge she was. "It's fine, darlin'. M'fine." His voice was more ragged than he'd expected it to be. "I'm just here to make sure that you're okay."

"Well," She held her arms out, "Come here, that'd make me feel okay." It was a bold move, one that told of her feelings towards Bucky, but she didn't mind much, figuring that he probably wouldn't decline her.

He chuckled, shaking his head at her, but still, kicked his boots off and lay down next to her, allowing her to wrap her arms tightly around his torso and press her cheek over his heart. "Hey, you're okay, sweetheart." He stroked her hair. "There's nothing to be on edge about, yeah? I've got you."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. Sorry, I don't know why I'm so freaked out." Her breathing was picking back up again, so Bucky shushed her and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, something that drove the butterflies in her stomach wild.

"It's okay, baby." The nickname just added to the way that her stomach fluttered, and she swallowed hard to try to forget about it. "Hey, how about I do something that'll relax you, yeah?"

"And what would that be, Barnes?" She smirked mischievously and he laughed at her.

"Lay on your stomach." He removed his arm from around her shoulders, and she looked at him with one eyebrow raised, obviously thinking that he was implying something way more forward than what he was actually implying. "Woah, no, no, no. I give good back massages, metal arm and all."

She laughed, throwing her head back into the pillows at the headboard of her bed. "Oh my God, Bucky. I hate you so much." She breathed out, flipping over so that she was laying on her stomach, back exposed to him.

"Can I pull your shirt up, or?" Bucky whispered, running his hands up and down the back of her t-shirt, and she nodded.

His breath hitched in his throat and he found himself struggling to think straight when he lifted the hem of her large shirt, to show that she was only wearing a pair of black panties underneath. She didn't seem to mind, so he didn't mention it, even though his breathing was hindered as he trailed his hands from the small of her back to her shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles as he did so.

She sighed and could've sworn that her eyes rolled back into her head as she relaxed into his touch, one hand cold and the other warm. She understood what he meant when he said that he was good at giving back massages.

"Feel okay?" He asked softly, swallowing hard. She nodded again.

"My God, Bucky, feels fucking amazing." She moaned, and he hated himself when his stomach flipped upon hearing her. "You're so good at that."

He had to stop when she said that, hands still on her shoulders but unmoving, just sitting still. He couldn't think about anything else other than sex when she was moaning like that, something that he wanted to punch himself for. It was such a tender moment, she was scared and so vulnerable, and all that was going through his brain were those thoughts.

"You okay?" She asked, and when he didn't answer she flipped back over, sitting in front of him. He looked like he'd seen a ghost as his tongue darted out to lick over his bottom lip. She reached a hand out, caressing his cheek gently to bring him back to reality. "Bucky?"

"Can I kiss you?" The words were leaving his mouth before he even knew what to do with them, what they meant and how she'd react. As soon as he realised what he'd said, he had his face in his hands, shaking his head. "Shit, sorry."

"No. No, Bucky, don't apologise. Look at me." She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, prying his hands away from his face. "Yes. Of course you can kiss me."

He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering if what she'd just said was real. She was looking into his eyes so intently, staring at the light blue rings around his pupils, realising how pretty they really were now that she was this close. "Kiss me." She whispered, and Bucky took no hesitation in complying to what she was asking of him.

His lips were on hers, and they were so gentle and soft, gliding against hers effortlessly. He pulled her closer to him with a hand on her back, the other cupping her cheek lovingly. His tongue had soon slipped between her lips, earning a soft little whine from her, as his tongue met hers and they worked out how to move them together in harmony.

She eventually pulled back, breathless, and simply grinned at him before laying back and pulling him with her. They resumed their earlier position, her arms wrapped firmly around his waist, his arm around her shoulders, her head on his chest while his hand stroked her hair. "Relaxed?" He laughed and she smiled and nodded.

"I'll get goin', it's late and you look tired, princess." Another nickname, another flourish from the butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Just as Bucky was getting up to leave, she grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him back to her, snuggling back up to his chest.

"Stay. Please."

[moonflower-31]

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist

Part 23 

Pairing: Spencer x Reader 

A/N: So... Long time no talk? Sorry guys. Depression sucks and so does life. What can ya do. But I hope this is good. My school just went on lockdown for 2 weeks so i should be able to get back into the swing of things. No guarantees btw. But please enjoy this part. I think it’s pretty good for someone who hasn’t written for two weeks. XD 

Warnings: A lot of shouting, cursing, name-calling, self-doubt (obviously), and slightly panic attack (I’ll go more into it in the next part) 

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner, @egg-boy03, @helena-way07, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @serendipity-imagines, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @thatsonezesty13 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A week later, and you had finally been released from the hospital. Your infection had gotten to a manageable point where you could just take antibiotics and be cured of it in a few more weeks. Spencer had spent the entire time with you, never leaving your side. Except when you had to use the restroom. Obviously. 

"Spence… you gotta shower, seriously. I'm thankful, really, that you stayed with me all week. But you need a shower. Bad." You insist, hobbling slightly as you walk out of the hospital. 

You sigh softly to yourself, closing your eyes tightly for a moment as you waited for Spencer. Trying to hide the ever growing terror that filled your heart was getting increasingly harder to hide. But you didn't have time for therapy or to feel sorry for yourself. The BAU never made your case an active one despite two agents having gone missing and being taken. Which told you well enough that you weren't worth the time. Serial killers deserved more attention than you.  

"Hey, are you okay, (Y/N)?" 

The sudden touch to your shoulder plus the speech coming from Spencer pulled a shriek from your lungs. You jumped and looked toward Spencer terrified for a few agonizingly long moments.  

You took a deep breath and refocused your breathing, hoping to ease your racing heart back to it's slightly less annoying rhythm. 

"Y-yeah…" you murmur, shaking your head in an attempt to clear your mind. You also cleared your throat for good measure. "Yeah, I uh… I'm okay. Just a little… jumpy is all." 

Spencer’s frown deepens on his face, looking towards you sadly. Was this really the time for him to tell you how he felt? No, it really wasn't. You were healing. No, you are healing. You didn't need the confusion of a brand new romantic relationship to be added to your already overflowing plate. 

"Well… I'm here if you need me." Spencer assured, flashing a gentle smile towards you. You sighed and nodded back to hin. 

"Yeah, yeah," you exhaled, looking away from Spencer and not meeting his gaze. "Thanks." 

Spencer could feel the wedge you were unknowingly making grow between you. He hoped he could help you. After Hankel, he had hardly anyone. If he could make a difference in your PTSD, he would. He would try his damndest even if it killed him. 

"Well… I can at least get you back to the apartment. I'm sure Hotch will understand why I'm a few minutes late-" Spencer began, directing you towards the parking lot. He looked back at you and saw a flash of fear run over your (E/C) eyes as you stopped. 

"N-no. No, I need to get back to work. I don't have any vacation days saved up. I gotta go with you to work." You insisted, feeling a heavy stone of fear weigh on your chest. 

Spencer narrowed his eyes and looked over at you, stopping in his tracks. "(Y/N), Hotch gave you vacation days. You don't have to go back right now-" 

"No, Spencer. I'm going back. The team needs me. If I'm alone, Peter’s gonna have a better chance at finding me so-" the tears began falling before you could even realize. You feel your voice crack in your throat and all you knew to do was cover your mouth and try to smother your sobs. 

Spencer’s arms were around you before you could say, his hand rubbing your back while his other cradled your head. He didn't say anything, he just held you. You were thankful he hadn't. It was all you could do to keep your hand over your mouth and the other fisted in Spencer's days old cardigan. 

After what felt like forever, (reality was five minutes) Spencer pulled slightly away and tilted your head up to encourage you to look at him. "W-why don't we just get in the car for now? Figure things out on the way?" Spencer asked. Maybe you could still work. But he would put his foot down personally if you did anything other than desk work. 

You nodded subtly and swallowed what remained of your sobs. Spencer smiled gently and began guiding you towards the parking lot gently, not forcing you to venture any faster than you felt comfortable. 

You found yourself wandering with your eyes across the street, having become more vigilant and observant since your capture. Everything seemed normal. Couples were walking together hand in hand, some with kids. Some business men and women walked with their phones glued to their ears while some people were carrying groceries to their car. It wasn't suspicious at all. It should have calmed you. But it didn't. The only thing you found yourself able to be calm about was the fact that Spencer had his arms around you. That was what made you feel safe.  

Spencer looked towards you, watching you for a few moments. He watched your eyes wandering frantically across the parking lot and put two and two together. Just being in the parking lot scared you. Spencer couldn’t help but relate. The crunch of leaves had been his trigger for a few weeks after his kidnapping. Spencer squeezed you closer and rubbed your shoulder to get your attention. You turn your head back towards him, finding a relieving inhale enter you at the sight of his kind eyes once again looking into yours. “I’ll go pull up the car. You think you can stay here for a few seconds?” He asks. A jolt of regret strikes him as he sees the fear fill your pupils. But you don’t verbalize these fears. Instead you nodded silently.  

Spencer gave you a gentle grin before he went to go bring the car towards you. That way you didn’t have to step foot in the parking lot. He knew he was probably risking a few things, but at least you didn’t have to be fearful of the asphalt. 

You bit your lip anxiously, the hairs on your arms raising in false alarm. You knew you were safe. Your brain knew you were safe. But your heart was in overdrive. It had stolen the control console from your brain and was currently making you an emotional and anxious mess. A part of you didn’t want to go to work. It wanted to take your time to recover. But the rest of you was adamant on going. The case hadn’t been made priority. They were just lucky that no cases were deemed important enough for the BAU to help during the week you and Morgan had been missing. 

You remained lost in your thoughts until you felt the touch of Spencer’s hand on your shoulder. You looked up and gave him a gentle smile. 

“We’re gonna be late if we don’t go now. We have 39 minutes till we are considered late.” Spencer informs, trying not to derail from his normal personality so much that you noticed. He hated being pitied. And he knew that you did as well.

You nodded and began to follow. You climbed into the passenger seat and fastened your seatbelt. Your hands flexed and moved anxiously, unable to sit still. You took a few deep breaths, hearing Spencer get into the car alongside you. 

You finally opened your eyes and felt the car roar to life underneath you. You were heading back to work. You'd get back to normal soon. You had to. 

○●♡●○ 

The both of you had found a comfortable silence in the transport to the BAU. Spencer kept a comforting hand in yours, allowing you to squeeze it when needed. 

But now, as Spencer pulled into his usual parking spot, did your chest begin to tighten somewhat. You hadn't been here for what felt like years. Peter had abducted you from this very parking lot. Anyone would understandably be anxious. 

But by some miracle, you managed to keep your anxieties covert as Spencer and you got out of the car. Of course, Spencer suspected you had a little fear from being back here, but didn't push you. Many statistics had shown in the past that forcing a PTSD victim to share their trauma without it being their terms can be destructive to their mental health. Translation: He wasn't going to ask you about it. 

The ride up the elevator was torturous. Slow, agonizing, and not to mention extremely long. You found yourself fidgeting and moving in place rather than standing still. You'd never done this before. To say it didn't worry you would be a very big lie. 

"Are you sure you're ready, (Y/N)? You can always utilize the time off Hotch gave you." 

You appreciated Spencer’s worry, you really did. It helped to have someone there who was willing to care when you weren't. But that didn't mean that you still didn't get somewhat annoyed over the continuous asking. 

"Yeah, I'm fine Spencer. I just need to get my mind off…" you stopped and pushed a heavy exhale from your chest. "Everything." 

Spencer didn't push, and soon enough the two of you were inside the BAU's glass doors, walking towards the familiar bullpen. You subconsciously fix the cuffs of your dress shirt, avoiding the eyes of everyone who was shocked to see you. 

You sighed softly as you both continued into the bullpen, meeting the eyes of two of your coworkers. 

"(Y/N), What are you doing back so early? You have like, 5 weeks of available off time. You need to rest yourself. And your mind. Trauma isn't something that should be taken lightly." Prentiss spoke, stopping in your tracks to keep you from getting to your desk. 

Spencer, unbeknownst to you, made a cut it out gesture to Emily and cleared his throat. "It's alright. She's only going to be doing reports and desk work." Spencer expressed, looking around at everyone who had decided to turn around a watch. 

Emily sighed. "Alright. But I'm not going to let you go on any cases. I'm still your supervisory agent. You're lucky we're free of the more important cases so we've been working on yours." You feel an icy stab to the chest from her comment, reminding you of how unimportant you felt. You swallowed dryly and nodded, not caring that you hadn't said a word and had let Spencer talk for you. You didn't feel like talking anyway. 

You then sat down at your desk with a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you felt the familiar breeze that came with a stack of reports falling onto your desk. 

You nodded towards whoever it was that gave you the reports and then started on them. It wasn't long until you had managed to clear all of your feelings from your mind and instead hyperfocus on the reports and the details in each. 

You lost track of so much time, that when Spencer put a cup of coffee on your desk, you jumped and almost verbally cursed. 

"Jesus-" you began, holding your chest for a moment. Spencer’s eyes widened and held his hands up once the coffee was safely level on your desk. 

"S-sorry. I-I just thought you could use a little bit of a 'pick-me-up' or whatever Morgan said it was." He seemed nervous, his hand finding his neck soon after finishing his statement. 

You smile at him genuinely for what feels like the first time in weeks and nod to him. "Yeah… I needed it. Thank you, Spence." 

Spencer’s eyes almost twinkle with happiness at your reply, his cheeks growing red and his smile appearing on his face as he goes back to his desk behind yours. 

Then the moment ended. 

"(L/N)? What are you doing back so early?" 

You turn your head and find Hotch walking towards your desk. You swallow a nervous laugh and instead begin to find a way to reply for yourself. Spencer didn't need to defend you forever. 

"Hotch… I can't stay at home like that. I need to keep my mind focused on something else. I can't sit by when you all still need my help. My case wasn't made of importance. Why should I treat it like it is?" You insist, shoving down the sob that desperately wanted to escape your throat. 

Hotch sighed and began to speak "(Y/N)..." 

"No. Let me speak. I'm not going to sit on my ass at home while you all work on the case that almost got Morgan killed. I'm going to help you. Its here at home. I won't have to go anywhere." Every part of you was begging for Hotch to understand. That he would give you a chance. 

Hotch gave you a questioning look for a few moments, allowing you to finish if you chose to continue, before he spoke up. "Just because you're healed physically doesn't mean you're better mentally. You went through something noone can relate to. You need to take the time to heal." 

"But I'm needed here, Hotch. I'm not going to go home and do nothing. It's just not my style. Now if you'll let me, I have a few more reports to do from this pile." You deadpan, gritting your teeth as you sit back down at your desk to finish reports filled with information you would never forget. 

Hotch sighed, looking back at Spencer for a moment before he turned around and began to continue on his list of things to do.  

You sighed and grumbled to yourself, trying to focus your emotions yet again so that you could finish the reports on your desk. But as fate would have it, you couldn't do that. 

"(Y/N/N)... Would you like to take a walk with me? It's almost our break. Maybe you could use a bit of fresh air? Scientifically, going outside helps to clear your lungs as well as lower blood pressure and heart rate." Spencer spoke up, tapping your shoulder gently once he knew he had your attention. 

You shook your head and cleared your throat. "No… no I'm going to finish these reports first. They're more important." You start. 

Spencer shook his head, his eyes widened slightly. "No," he starts, standing up and walking over to you. "These reports aren't more important than your well-being. I haven't pushed because I want you to talk when you're ready. But you can't act like you aren't important." 

You scoff and go to reply, just as the sound of a slamming glass door echos through the bullpen, making everyone's eyes travel to the source of the noise. This also meant you. 

By the time you looked, two familiar eyes were staring coldly into yours. Two wrinkled hands clasped at your shirt collar and yanked you forward violently. 

"How dare you ungrateful-" Margaret quips, slapping you across the face before you could even react. "Selfish, and ignorant child!" 

You cough harshly, earning the feeling of Margaret's hand again across your face. "M-mother…" you murmured, the agents around you trying to separate the two of you. 

"No, you have gone too far now! I paid him to take you! You are his property! Go to him! I have lost too much for you to disobey like the brat of a child you've always been!" Margaret scrambled, trying to get out of the arms of a much stronger agent who held her back away from you. 

Someone, who you soon recognized as Garcia and Emily, helped you to your feet. Spencer had very quickly come to your aide, sending Garcia off to fetch Rossi and Hotch. 

You grumbled for a few moments, the anger you felt beginning to come to a head. "Really? You paid him? I thought he was just trying to get under my skin with that, Mother." You spat, taking a few steps forward before looking up into (e/c) eyes. 

Your mother scoffed and rolled her eyes, looking back at you coldly. "Of course I did. You need someone to finally put you in your place. To teach you the manners I had somehow missed." 

You growled at her continuance. Your fist clenched at your side. She was your mother. And this was what she chose to do? Instead of being by your side when you needed a mother most, she admitted to being a part of why you were raped in the first place. 

"So you admit to selling a human? To selling your only daughter, just because I wouldn't abide to your stupid fucking rules?" You glared, spitting out the words like venom on your tongue. 

Spencer went to stop you, but Emily pulled him back. You needed this. 

"Yes I-" Margaret began, but you quickly put a stop to her excuses. 

"No. You're going to let me share my opinion for ONCE in my life. You're going to stand there and face the monster that you created. Be the perfect housewife you insisted on creating with me." 

Your mother rolled her eyes, but surprisingly didn't speak up again. You were slightly baffled by her sudden respect. But it didn't last long. 

"You were never there for me when I needed you. When I was in the hospital, after what Peter did to me, I needed you. After Peter's threats, I needed you. After each low grade on a test, I needed you. Not the harsh yelling and lecture I received from you and father. I needed the reassurance that it wasn't the end of the world. Whenever I had nightmares from my never ending memory bank of trauma, you sent me back to bed with the flick of your hand. I remember every word, every scowl, every upturn of your nose, every single moment you've spared for me my entire life. You're lucky I don't charge you with assault and child abuse. I don't because you're my mother. I thought maybe one day…" you feel the hot, rushing tears fall from your cheeks, making you aware of your vulnerability in front of everyone. 

You sniffled and wiped your eyes before you continued. "T-that maybe one day you'd change. And I-I'd have my mom." A tearful smile formed on your face, staring at the woman who had cause so much of your misery. "But still, you choose to remind me of how unimportant I've always been. How I am just a pawn in your game of chess. Easily disposable. Well here's a reality check for you, Margaret." You snapped, pointing a finger against her chest. 

"Check. Cause I'm not going to rest until you and Peter are both sent to prison where you both so clearly belong!" You yell into her ear. "So much for motherly love." You whisper harshly afterwards, turning around so that she didn't get the satisfaction of seeing you fall apart. 

Hotch entered your vision soon after, gesturing for you to meet him in his office. You sigh shakily, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Spencer stops you for a moment, holding your arms. "H-hey… you don't have to go immediately, you know. You can stay for a minute." 

You recognize his extended olive branch and take it. He didn't need to even say another word for you to collapse into his arms, sobbing as hard as your heart had been begging to since you'd left the hospital that morning. 

Oh how the mighty have fallen. 

[trashbag-baby666]

Forever Is a Long Time-Webgott

T/W: major character death

Summary: It’s after the war, Joe and David are living together. David is pursuing his dream of writing a book. Every time David goes out on that damn boat Joe can’t help but think David’s never coming back.

WC: 1,042.

C/W: Major character death, mentions of PTSD, period typical homophobia.

Link To My Masterlist!

  Joe was always doubtful of his homosexuality. It was the 40's it was shut out of society and not talked about.

Joe always hated injustice and being a closeted gay Jewish man wasn't always easy.

David grew up in a conservative, homophobic family. It was normal to be homophobic in the '40s but he didn't want to talk about it.

Joe knew David would be the man he married when he first saw him in Toccoa.

But neither of them ever made moves on each other because they were scared of one, not reciprocating feelings.

When they finally fessed up their feelings they were sitting on Winters dock that he always went swimming at in the morning. Both of them laying on and basking in the sunlight.

Both of them were buzzed as it was a month after VE Day and they had all the liquor in the world.

Webster had kept his eyes fixated on Joe's scar.

It was small but the light skin stood out.

The two boys silently turned to each other and kissed.

A long, slow kiss.

They would end up making love to each other on that dock

••••

“Daddy!" Rosemary ran to Joe who was sitting on the beach.

"Yeah, sweety?" Joe caught the wet little girl.

"Daddy said that we could have popsicles!" She giggled and Joe grabbed her towel.

"Did he?" He looked over at Web who was playing with Randall.

"Mhm's!" She nodded, Joe picked up the young girl.

"David?" Joe walked towards his husband.

"Yeah Joe?" He turned and picked up Randall.

"Rosemary said that you promised popsicles." Joe raised an eyebrow looking at their daughter.

"I did, you guys want popsicles?" David looked at Randall and Rosemary. The twins nodded and Joe giggled.

"Here go get some popsicles," Joe set down Rosemary and David set down Randall.

They both raced back up to their perfect house. Joe put his arm around Joe and kissed his cheek.

"So how's your book going?" Joe smiled.

"It's doing good I'm actually almost done and ready to edit." David smiled back as they walked up the deck stairs to their house.

•••

Joe came up behind David as he was sitting at his desk overlooking the ocean. He put his arms around his shoulders and kissed his neck.

"What's up?" David smiled looking up from his map.

"What're you doing?" Joe whined and kissed David's cheek.

"I think I'm going to go out on a shark hunt. Like not a violent one but to get pictures of my own for the book.

"Aw but I don't want you to go," Joe pouted pulling away and leaning on the wall.

"I'm not even leaving for another week," he stood up and took Joe's hands.

Joe sighed and kissed David's neck gently feeling lustful.

David whined and looked up bringing his lips to Joe's. Joe sighed and bent over slightly scooping up David.

David moaned against his husband and wrapped his legs around Joe. Joe squeezed David's ass gently and kissed him pressing him up against the wall.

"Fuck," Joe whined as David pulled at his hair slightly. They smiled at each other and rushed upstairs to their room. They weren't bothered about waking the kids because their rooms were downstairs.

Joe laid down David and they shared one of their last intimate moments together.

•••

Joe kissed David closely and passionately, biting David's bottom lip momentarily.

"Joe I gotta go," he sighed holding both of Joe's hands.

"I'm just going to miss you so much, the bed is going to be cold." Joe pouted.

"Daddy do you have to leave?" Randall crossed his arms.

"I'll be back before you know it," David kneeled and hugged Randall and Rosemary.

"Your dad is going to take good care of you and I want you guys to be on the best behavior you can muster up."

"Promise," Rosemary sniffed as tears started to well up.

"Oh don't cry hun," Joe bent down and rubbed her back, "Why don't we go get ice cream after daddy leaves?"

"Okay," she nodded and hugged David one last time and Rosemary did the same. Joe and David stood up and shared a quick kiss.

"I love you so much David," Joe looked into his deep blue eyes.

"I love you more Joe," he kissed his knuckles gently. Joe grazed his fingers over David’s wedding ring.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard when you get back," Joe whispered into David's ear as they hugged.

"I know you will," he smiled and leaned into Joe's last kiss that he'd ever share with his partner.

Joe took a picture of David and his boat, then Joe and David and David and the kids.

The Liebgotts stood at the end of the dock and waved as David went off in his boat. They watched until they couldn't see him again. That would be the last time David would ever be seen again.

•••

Joe sat at David's desk with his head in his hands. He just got the letter that David's boat had been found capsized with no David.

He sniffed as tears were all over his hands. He hadn't felt this way in a long time. Since he was at war.

He had just lost the love of his life, the only man in Easy company he still talked to.

The man Joe married illegally.

The man Joe adopted twins with.

Everything was gone, his sister opened the door returning with Rosemary and Randall.

"Hey, guys why don't we go and play for a moment." Talia frowned as she watched the kids run to their Rooms, "Joe what happened..."

"Him," he choked on the tears looking up at the frame of David and Joe at David's graduation that sat on his desk.

"Joe can you be more specific?" She rubbed his back.

"He went out to sea, they found his boat capsized with nobody." He sobbed and turned into his sister as she hugged him.

"Oh my god..." Talia sniffed and felt tears start to well up. She had grown close with her brother-in-law.

Joe was so broken and didn't know how he was going to make it.

But he would have to make it for their kids.

[thereddeadredeemed]

An Ironwood meta that just randomly popped into my head.

So I’ve been skimming over a lot of the observations on RWBY from @bionic-jedi and aside from the glurge of absolutely adorable Nuts ‘n Dolts stuff (Which I appreciate, I ship it now), the part that really got my attention was all the shit going down around Ironwood. I don’t watch the show anymore, not that I hated it or anything I just sorta lost interest in the show itself, decided it ultimately wasn’t really for me and mainly just enjoy it through fanart and shipping now, but from what I gathered from bionic-jedi’s Let’s Watch Ironwood sounds absolutely fascinating in all the ways that I don’t think was intentional by the CRWBY but is still pretty awesome that it’s there.

Forgive me if I get the details wrong since I haven’t kept up with the show and all my info is coming second hand from @bionic-jedi​, but from I could gather Ironwood comes across as a man who:

- Is an experienced veteran fighter who individually is very badass with a proven tactical record on the battlefield

- Has the natural charisma to instill genuine loyalty and belief in his cause into his subordinates (To paraphrase Mass Effect 3 for a bit, you can pay a man to fight, you can pay him to charge up a hill, but no amount of money in the world will ever convince a man to believe in you), and does possess a genuine care for the troops under his command

- Will nonetheless still engage in abusive behavior if a subordinate is not performing in a way he believes is proper for their duty (Yeah I would consider forcibly hacking a sapient being to count as that)

- Carries around a very cool badass revolver as a signature weapon 

- While brilliant tactically, possess horrible long term strategic assessment skills that if allowed to be acted upon could have/did end in disaster

You know what that sounds like? Ironwood is almost a perfect RWBY equivalent for George R. Patton (with maybe a bit of Bernard Montgomery thrown in).

Like, I think that the CRWBY may have accidentally written a scenario that asks “What if Patton was the Supreme Commander of the Western Front instead of Eisenhower?” And the results are an absolute clusterfuck unfolding in real time, but I feel I gotta clarify this.

Patton is one of America’s most celebrated and respected generals, and for good reason. Dude was a badass with a keen sense of armor tactics and mobile warfare that proved repeatedly that he could beat the Germans at their own game. His personal bravery could also never be called into question, having proven his mettle in direct combat during both the Hunt for Pancho Villa and WW1, as well as putting his own life in danger being very close to the front lines numerous times during WW2, one time even riding a tank into a German-occupied village to inspire his men. He also did genuinely care for the lives of his men, only ever seen openly weeping when mourning for the lives of his fallen soldiers, treating his wounded troops with the highest respect, and properly giving praise when they did a good job.

For all of Ironwood’s faults, his own mettle is certainly not into question given he suffered such grievous injuries that half his body is now cybernetics, and the man for sure knows how to fight and fight well, so that’s one similarity with Patton. He has also inspired real loyalty in Winter and the Ace Operatives, and in turn he does seem to actually care for them, and he had no real reason to give Yang a new prosthetic arm (and rather quickly fast tracking her an incredibly advanced one at that), so he’s not completely heartless or devoid of empathy. 

However, Patton was a man focused on the tactical short term in lieu of long term strategic planning, and possessed with some horrendous character flaws that bit him in the ass on several occasions. One of them being the, even by the standards of the 40′s, deplorable manner in which he treated soldiers wracked with what we in the modern day would diagnose as PTSD. The man flat out did not believe PTSD was a real thing, thinking of it as cowardice and...you know what? I’m just gonna let the Wikipedia quotes say it all, I bolded some choice quotes for convenience:

Private Charles H. Kuhl, of L Company, U.S. 26th Infantry Regiment, reported to an aid station of C Company, 1st Medical Battalion, on 2 August 1943. Kuhl, who had been in the U.S. Army for eight months, had been attached to the 1st Infantry Division since 2 June 1943. He was diagnosed with "exhaustion," a diagnosis he had been given three times since the start of the campaign. From the aid station, he was evacuated to a medical company and given sodium amytal. Notes in his medical chart indicated "psychoneurosis anxiety state, moderately severe (soldier has been twice before in hospital within ten days. He can't take it at the front, evidently. He is repeatedly returned.)" Kuhl was transferred from the aid station to the 15th Evacuation Hospital near Nicosia for further evaluation.

Patton arrived at the hospital the same day, accompanied by a number of medical officers, as part of his tour of the U.S. II Corps troops. He spoke to some patients in the hospital, commending the physically wounded. He then approached Kuhl, who did not appear to be physically injured. Kuhl was sitting slouched on a stool midway through a tent ward filled with injured soldiers. When Patton asked Kuhl where he was hurt, Kuhl reportedly shrugged and replied that he was "nervous" rather than wounded, adding, "I guess I can't take it." Patton "immediately flared up,” slapped Kuhl across the chin with his gloves, then grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the tent entrance. He shoved him out of the tent with a kick to his backside. Yelling "Don't admit this son of a bitch," Patton demanded that Kuhl be sent back to the front, adding, "You hear me, you gutless bastard? You're going back to the front."

Corpsmen picked up Kuhl and brought him to a ward tent, where it was discovered he had a temperature of 102.2 °F (39.0 °C); and was later diagnosed with malarial parasites. Speaking later of the incident, Kuhl noted "at the time it happened, [Patton] was pretty well worn out  ... I think he was suffering a little battle fatigue himself." Kuhl wrote to his parents about the incident, but asked them to "just forget about it." That night, Patton recorded the incident in his diary: "[I met] the only errant coward I have ever seen in this Army. Companies should deal with such men, and if they shirk their duty, they should be tried for cowardice and shot."

Private Paul G. Bennett, 21, of C Battery, U.S. 17th Field Artillery Regiment, was a four-year veteran of the U.S. Army, and had served in the division since March 1943. Records show he had no medical history until 6 August 1943, when a friend was wounded in combat. According to a report, he "could not sleep and was nervous." Bennett was brought to the 93rd Evacuation Hospital. In addition to having a fever, he exhibited symptoms of dehydration, including fatigue, confusion, and listlessness. His request to return to his unit was turned down by medical officers. A medical officer describing Bennett's condition

And yet another incident like this:

Private Paul G. Bennett, 21, of C Battery, U.S. 17th Field Artillery Regiment, was a four-year veteran of the U.S. Army, and had served in the division since March 1943. Records show he had no medical history until 6 August 1943, when a friend was wounded in combat. According to a report, he "could not sleep and was nervous." Bennett was brought to the 93rd Evacuation Hospital. In addition to having a fever, he exhibited symptoms of dehydration, including fatigue, confusion, and listlessness. His request to return to his unit was turned down by medical officers. A medical officer describing Bennett's condition

The shells going over him bothered him. The next day he was worried about his buddy and became more nervous. He was sent down to the rear echelon by a battery aid man and there the medical aid man gave him some tranquilizers that made him sleep, but still he was nervous and disturbed. On the next day the medical officer ordered him to be evacuated, although the boy begged not to be evacuated because he did not want to leave his unit.

On 10 August, Patton entered the receiving tent of the hospital, speaking to the injured there. Patton approached Bennett, who was huddled and shivering, and asked what the trouble was. "It's my nerves," Bennett responded. "I can't stand the shelling anymore." Patton reportedly became enraged at him, slapping him across the face. He began yelling: "Your nerves, hell, you are just a goddamned coward. Shut up that goddamned crying. I won't have these brave men who have been shot at seeing this yellow bastard sitting here crying." Patton then reportedly slapped Bennett again, knocking his helmet liner off, and ordered the receiving officer, Major Charles B. Etter, not to admit him. Patton then threatened Bennett, "You're going back to the front lines and you may get shot and killed, but you're going to fight. If you don't, I'll stand you up against a wall and have a firing squad kill you on purpose. In fact, I ought to shoot you myself, you goddamned whimpering coward." Upon saying this, Patton pulled out his pistol threateningly, prompting the hospital's commander, Colonel Donald E. Currier, to physically separate the two. Patton left the tent, yelling to medical officers to send Bennett back to the front lines.

As he toured the remainder of the hospital, Patton continued discussing Bennett's condition with Currier. Patton stated, "I can't help it, it makes my blood boil to think of a yellow bastard being babied," and "I won't have those cowardly bastards hanging around our hospitals. We'll probably have to shoot them some time anyway, or we'll raise a breed of morons."

There were serious cries for Patton to get sacked after theses incidents, his reputation and job only saved because Eisenhower knew his tactical command abilities were simply too valuable to give up and so was only temporarily relieved of duty instead. Point I’m trying to make here is that while Patton could definitely hold sympathy and understanding for his men, it was contingent on them acting in a way he believed was properly honoring their duty. If they erred from his ideals of a how a proper soldier behaved, he could lapse into some seriously abusive behavior disturbingly quickly.

I can’t be the only one that sees some parallels between this and Ironwood hacking Penny am I? A man who cares for his troops but as soon as Penny acted in a way he deemed to be out of line, immediately sought to violate her autonomy and rights as a sapient being to force her back into line and back into his ideals of how a proper soldier should behave. Perhaps he wasn’t as violently physically aggressive about it as Patton, but arguably what Ironwood did was ethically much worse than slapping the shit out of and threatening people.

Patton also wasn’t the type to worry about the long term consequences of his actions. Before he died in a car accident shortly after WW2 he was unceremoniously sacked from his job after making one too many aggressive comments towards the Soviet Union, potentially nudging towards a potential Operation Unthinkable, and carelessly allowing former Nazis back into political power. Both of these were unthinkably horrible for obvious reasons.

There is one key difference between Patton and Ironwood however. Eisenhower was keenly aware of Patton’s potential shortcomings and he was kept on a leash and out of the highest levers of power, thus preventing him from ever being in a position where his worst traits would allow him to truly fuck up. Ironwood however I feel got Peter Principle’d hardcore and was promoted way above his level of competence (Always a risk for men who gain a reputation as “fightin’ generals”, see: John Bell Hood), where his positive qualities of personal physical bravery, combat skill and tactical leadership is wasted and his worst qualities of hyper-focus on short sighted tactical victories over long term strategic goals, paranoia and distrust leading to an excessive need for control, and moral cowardice are allowed to flourish.

And we see the consequences of it. He may have started with solid pragmatic ideas, but his insanely one-track minded obsession with short term strategic goals like making sure he has control over the Winter Maiden is costing him big long term strategically by burning bridges with potentially valuable allies and isolating himself and his command. Valuable time and resources that could have been spent coordinating forces against Salem wasted on various shenanigans involving Penny, RWBY and JN_R. Especially devastating given that Atlas is the only industrialized military power worth a damn in this world and isn’t reliant on mostly independent and unorganized Hunters and Huntresses (individually skilled but too few in number and takes far too long to train each one to reliably stop a Grimm invasion), and he’s just wasting the resources of the world power best able to hold the line against the Grimm.

Next part is a bit of a non-sequitur and really long so I put it in between the dotted lines if y’all ain’t interested and want to skip on over to the relevant Ironwood parts.

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Getting a feel for the strategic situation in Atlas, I get a strong sense that what Atlas needs more than anything else right now is a Dwight D. Eisenhower. Eisenhower the the exact man needed to lead the Western allies, and I can’t see anyone else doing as realistically as good a job as he did, this is a hill I’ll die on. It wouldn’t look like it at first, the man had never once commanded a unit in battle (a fact that made many of his “actually seen combat” rivals bitter), and his softer, more easy going disposition would seem at odds with the alpha-male take charge image cultivated by men like Patton and Montgomery that would be stereotypically expected of a general, much less a Supreme Commander. 

However, that calm exterior hid a man with a sharp eye on the necessary strategic goals needed for victory, expert resource and personnel management skills, the humility to listen to his subordinates and admit his own mistakes, and most importantly, both the smooth negotiating skills and the iron will necessary to deal with larger than life figures.

The western allies were made up of many different nations and factions and filled to the brim with what I would call (to put it lightly) strong personalities. This was an organization that involved: 

- Franklin D. Roosevelt

- Winston Churchill

- Charles De Gaulle

- Bernard Montgomery

- The aforementioned Patton

- Occasional dealings with Stalin even

All of them larger than life personalities, all of them strong willed and possessed of their own ideas of how to win the war as well as their own political/personal motives, and all of them vying for dominance in the strategic decision making of the Western Allies. It was like herding a clowder of cats, but all the cats had frggin tanks and bombs. Eisenhower actually managed to cut through the bullshit and resist all the arm twisting and actually got all the different countries, armies and leaders together to act upon a united plan. He did this while still being able to control his subordinates worst impulses and (mostly) was able to resist the shitty plans put up and embrace the good ones (for the most part, Montgomery did manage to convince him to approve of Operation Market Garden, and it was the last major German victory of the war mostly due to Monty’s mishandling). Tactical battle ability was largely irrelevant for Eisenhower’s role, and his ability to see the big picture clearly and being able to maneuver through the internal politics meant everything to his success as a Supreme Commander.

If Eisenhower or an Eisenhower-esque figure was in charge of Atlas during this latest season, you’d probably get a drastically different turn of events. An Eisenhower would not be so quick to drastic action as Ironwood was. An Eisenhower would probably sit down with their subordinates, hear out all their arguments for why or why shouldn’t a specific action be taken, then calmly consider their actions. An Eisenhower would probably then say “Working with an enemy agent to hack into the Winter Maiden is a dumb idea” and proceed to create plans on how to coordinate all available forces in Remnant to best fend off Salem.

Atlas as a whole doesn’t really strike me as the type of organization that would raise an Eisenhower though. Militaries are always offshoots of the cultures that create them, and I don’t believe it to be a coincidence that a Supreme Commander like Eisenhower would be American. The country was literally founded on democratic ideals and it was enshrined very early into its history that the military would always be subordinate to the civilian government. This precedent makes it necessary that anyone that rises high enough in the military must be able to respect a strong civilian presence and be able to work with both internal and external politics. Any general that rises high enough must be half-general half-politician by necessity (there’s a reason why former military often do have successful political careers after retiring from service, including the aforementioned Eisenhower who eventually became the 34th President of the United States).

Atlas just doesn’t strike me as having that same sort of cultural framework. If anything the Atlas military strikes me as having a cultural framework closer to WW2 Germany where tactical efficiency and high tech weaponry/tools is prized above all else, often at the cost of long term strategic goal setting. Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan never set realistic goals for themselves and predictably got steamrolled eventually. Occasionally you’ll get an online thread asking “What if Germany/Japan had smart top leadership during WW2?” But that’s a trick question. A WW2 Germany/Japan with sensible leadership...just isn’t WW2 Germany/Japan at all, it was intrinsic to the identity and character of those nations in that time period. Similarly, I just don’t see an Atlas military that sees a potential Eisenhower in their ranks and thinks to promote them to High Command as opposed to just shuffling them off as an aide to some random officer and never consider them for higher promotion. An organization that prizes short term tactical victory over long term strategic goals just isn’t the type of organization to do that.

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Thing is though, I think just from what I gathered, Ironwood just shot up to be my favorite RWBY character because of how frigging fascinatingly horrible he is. He’s not an entirely awful person (at least not at first), but his own paranoia and fear combined with his habit of confusing short term tactical advantage with long term strategic goals leads him down the path of utterly despicable actions while convincing himself that it’s all for the greater good. All while being an idiot and wasting the legitimate game-changer resources of having an actual army when everyone else is still dicking around with hunters and huntresses as their only defense.

Smart money is he’s gonna die, it seems to be where he’s heading. If CRWBY’s writing staff has some serious cajones however, it’d be really cool if they pulled a Catra on him and see how low they can make him sink before making him hit rock bottom, realize his mistakes and force him to work hard for a redemption arc. I dunno, maybe I’m giving him too much slack but I actually do feel for him a little bit. The dude was clearly an alright guy that had the world fall down on him and just wasn’t suited for the massive responsibility that circumstances forced on his shoulders. He’s still a soldier that genuinely wants to protect Atlas, he’s just too short sighted to see how his actions just aren’t what Atlas is gonna need in the long term. Maybe a harsh talking to by Glinda would do him some good (I still ship IronWitch don’t @ me). I dunno, I just think that a redemption arc would be a lot harder to write than just killing him off, and thus would be that much more satisfying to see it pulled off right like what Noelle Stevenson did with Catra’s character in She-Ra.

[samthemarvelfan]

Goodbyes: Chapter Seven

Summary: Ella Monroe is the Avengers newest recruit, handpicked by Steve Rogers himself. Indebted to him for reasons unknown, Cap pairs her up with Bucky Barnes. He is tasked with training her to relearn and hone the skills that have long since rusted. Bucky is cold and distant, and Ella can’t seem to break through the wall he’s built up for decades. He sees something in her though, and it scares him to death. Has the fate of these two strangers been sealed? …or will they always be longing…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC, feat Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark

Warnings: DARKER THEMES AHEAD. Angst, Bucky is a dick, mutual pining, self sabotage, PTSD, Fluff! Mentions of Panic attacks, flashbacks, and vomiting Def not following a specific MCU canon or timeline.

A/N: WOW! I am so grateful for all the love! Thank you so much @captain-rogers-beard for taking the time to not only read, but enjoy and reblog my work! i am honored! Please enjoy this hastily written chapter. (life is hard, but i love yall so much(

Taglist:@iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @heartofagamotto​  (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry! Tags are OPEN!)

Bucky should have kissed her.

When he woke up, it was the only thing on his mind. He would do just about anything to turn the clock back, so he could grab her face in his hands and feel her pillowy lips against his.

Just imagining it sent a familiar heat to Bucky’s lower abdomen.

“Hey Iceman, what’s up?” Sam said as he entered the training room.

Bucky looked up, shaken out of his daydream, “Hey Sam, hows it going?”

Sam feigned a look of shock, “Wow you’re in a good mood this mornin’! Any particular reason why? Hm?”

Bucky smiled to himself as he moved equipment to make space, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Sam laughed, “Whatever you say, just tell me one thing—y’all fuck yet or what?”

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks, “What?”

“You and Ella. Did you guy fuck yet?”

His causal tone threw Bucky for a loop. Bucky swallowed hard and shook his head, “Sam it’s not..I don’t...I’m just—“

“See that’s your problem right there,” Sam interjected, “you don’t know what the hell you want with that girl, but you know you want her. I’ve seen you guys in a room together, the sexual tension is off the charts.”

Bucky laid mats down in the center of the room, “Sam, she’s just a—“

“A recruit. Yeah I know, but if you think for one second I believe that’s all you see her as then Iceman, I got some baaaad news for you.”

Sam took a sip from his water bottle, taking in Bucky’s expression. He looked happy on the surface, but Sam saw the dissatisfaction wading underneath.

“Bucky,” Sam called. He only ever used his name when he was serious. “Why are you so hard on that girl? It’s so obvious you two are crazy about one another. Why are you pushing her away?”

Bucky looked up to Sam, and simply shook his head. “I’m not good. For her or anybody else...but especially her.”

Sam look at him confused, “What the hell is that suppose to mean?”

Bucky sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Don’t you think I would love to be a guy who could have a girl like that on my arm without worrying I might kill her? That I could take her out somewhere and not have this constant paranoia hanging over my head like a guillotine ready to drop at any second?”

Bucky hadn’t said these thoughts out loud to anyone, not even Steve. “Sam she’s...she’s everything I want but can never have. I gotta keep my distance, but she makes it impossible. I’m mean to her, downright cruel, and boy, does she give it back to me...” Bucky smiled and let out a chuckle at the thought.

“But she’s kind. She’s so sweet and genuine and I-I’m a time bomb. Ella...she’s been through hell and back. I don’t want her to have to go through anything like that again.”

Sam stood in front of his friend, seeing the pain in his eyes. He sighed taking a step toward Bucky, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Does she make you happy?”

Bucky looked up confused, “Did you not just hear m—“

“Does. She. Make. You. Happy?” Sam repeated.

Bucky nodded slowly, “She makes me feel alive again. After feeling nothing for almost a century.”

Sam nodded to himself. “If I were you Barnes? I wouldn’t push away my chance at happiness. Who knows? You might be her chance too.”

You look through the doors to the training room and see Sam with Bucky.

Is he passing me off to Sam again? You think.

You take a deep breath and push the door open. They stop their conversation and Sam turns to you.

“What’s up, Punchline? How you doin’?” He asks happily.

You can’t help but smile, his grin is infectious. “Hey Sam, you joining in on the fun today?” You ask, hoping for a regretful answer.

Sam shakes his head, “No, apparently Barnes wants you all to himself. Isn’t that right, Iceman?”

You look to Bucky whose gaze is unwavering, “Ella needs an actual trainer, not a comedian with a whistle.” He jests.

Sam’s jaw drops open slightly and you let out a small giggle.

“Alright, alright. I see when I’m not wanted. Catch ya later, Punchline. And Barnes, I’ll see you in hell.” He flips Bucky off on his way out the door, and you can’t help but laugh.

A few moment pass as a comfortable silence falls over the room. You try not too, but you can’t help but remember the last time you were here. When you were alone with Sergeant Barnes, and what happened.

When he almost killed you.

He noticed the sudden discomfort in your eyes. “Hi, Els.” His smooth, honey voice calls to you; drawing you in.

“Hey, Sarge.” You reply kindly.

He steps forward, testing the waters. “Bucky.” He says.

You look at him confused. “What?”

“Bucky. Use my name. Please.” He says quietly.

“But I thought—“

“I like your voice. The way you say my name...I like it.” His boldness takes you by surprise, but nonetheless you smile.

A small nod, “Bucky.” You say happily.

He smiles back, a real genuine smile. One of the first you think you’ve seen from him.

“Where’s your sling, Doll?” He asks concerned.

“Oh,” you say baring your bandage covered shoulder to him. “When I woke up this morning, my shoulder was...I don’t know. It feels...different? The wound itself still hurts but somehow, it feels healed.”

Bucky’s brow furrows, “Can I?” He gestured to the bandage, and you nod.

He gently sweeps your hair behind your shoulder, rubbing circles on the exposed skin.

When he pulls back the bandage he can’t help but be a little curious.

“Have you ever been injured like this before?” He asks, replacing the bandage.

You shake your head. “No, when I was...where I was, they were very careful not to hurt me this bad.”

“Why’s that?” He asked.

You smile sadly, “Can’t use a punching bag with a hole in it, can you?”

A flash of anger dances in Bucky’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Doll.”

You shrug, “I can’t change the past, no point in living in it.” You push the flashbacks out as they threaten your mind once again. You’re not going to ruin this. Not this time.

Bucky strokes your arm a few times, before his hand grasps at yours loosely. “When HYDRA had you, Steve said they experimented on you?”

He asks like he’s afraid of both your reaction and your answer.

You nod. “Yeah. They injected me with so many solutions and serums. I have no idea what any of it was or did.”

Bucky smiled softly and gently thumbed your knuckles. “Well whatever it was, one of them must have helped you with healing. Steve and I share that trait too. Cuts heal in hours, fractures and breaks in a few days.”

You nod thoughtfully to yourself. “Huh, finally a perk from those assholes.”

He dropped your hand softly, “We’re gonna take it easy still...I don’t wanna push you too hard.”

A laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“What?” Bucky asks curiously.

“Who are you and what have you done with the real Sergeant Barnes?” You ask sarcastically.

Without missing a beat, Bucky steps into you, cupping your cheek with his hand. The pad of his thumb is swept over your cheekbone tenderly, prickling your skin with goosebumps.

“I’m trying to be me. The real me. We got off to a terrible start and that’s my fault. I’m sorry.” His voice is so genuine and honest, it takes you by surprise.

“You like keeping me on my toes, huh?” You ask.

He nods fondly, “I could say the same about you, ya k now.”

Silence crept into the room, blanketing the air you shared with him. Suddenly, you can’t help but look to his lips.

It would be so easy to kiss him, too easy. You look down to Bucky’s feet hoping to shake the eagerness from your bones, but it doesn’t help.

“Look at me, Els...” he coaxes you.

You catch his gaze again, and your breathing hitches in your chest.

“I’m gonna earn your trust, Doll. I promise.” Bucky whispers.

Before you had the chance to reply, a chime echoed in the room.

“Excuse me, Sergeant Barnes you’re needed urgently in briefing room C.” FRIDAY’s accent called out.

He looked confused for a moment, “On whose order?”

“Mr. Stark’s.” It was a simple reply, but a telling one nonetheless.

Bucky looked at you quickly, “Let’s go.”

On your way back to the compound, you couldn’t help the nervous feeling in your stomach. Since Tony retired, he never helped out for missions. He came in a few times a month to check on the property and get debriefings from the staff, but his main job was being a Dad.

That’s why when you heard it was him calling for Bucky, you knew something was up.

“What do you think it is?” You asked Bucky, shoving your hands deep in your pockets.

The elevator doors opened and Bucky ushered you out, placing his hand on the small of your back.

“Not sure, but if Tony’s involved it can’t be good.”

As you approached the room, you saw Cap, Bruce, Sam and Wanda at the table, Tony heading the meeting.

You slowed, allowing Bucky to walk ahead of you.

“Come on, Doll.” He said matter-of-factly.

You shook your head, “They didn’t ask for me.”

Bucky chuckled, “Just come on.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. 

The room got instantly quiet. “Look who decided to join us...” Sam jested.

“Hey, Buck.” Steve said kindly.

You sat in the chair by the door, ready to leave if you were asked too. Why should you be here? You’re not an Avenger—or whatever these guys are called now.

“We all know why we’re here. They’re back. This time it seems like for good.” Tony spoke.

He pressed a button on the console, projecting a hologram above the table.

It showed an aerial image of some kind of camp, though fortress would probably be the better word. You stared at the image, when your stomach suddenly dropped. Your skin prickling and clammy before you had time to think.

“Where is this?” Wanda asked.

“Romania.” You whispered.

All eyes were suddenly on you. “Ella? You know this place?” Steve asked.

You nodded subtly, “Y-yeah. I—excuse me.”

Feet carrying you faster than your body wanted, you ran from the conference room. Opting for the stairs instead of the elevator, you run down the several flights to the living quarters.

Luckily, you made it to your bathroom before you were sick. Unable to stop the dry heaving and shaking, you knew there was no point. You’d successfully avoided the flashbacks for over a year, stealing your mind had become second nature, but this...this was too much.

The light headed feeling over took you as you laid in your bed. You desperately drank water, hoping to calm your nerves, but nothing was helping. This was a panic attack, one of the worst you could remember.

“Ella? Ella open up.” Steve’s voice was outside your room, muffled by the door.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move.

“FRIDAY?” You heard him ask. The A.I. didn’t respond, she simply unlocked the door.

You were in the fetal position now, hugging the pillow desperately to your chest.

“Ella.” He said, moving his hand to stroke your back. His touch elicited a fight or flight response you’d been denying for months. You instinctively began kicking and punching him.

“No! No! Don’t take me! Don’t touch me! Stop!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. Steve wasn’t there. You were suddenly back in Romania, in the cell you’d been kept in. The faceless men of your mind were there, touching you. Stabbing you. Hurting you.

“Ella no! Please it’s me, it’s Steve. You gotta fight it, Ella.” He tried you comfort you. “You’re safe, Ella, I promise you’re safe!”

Without warning, the faceless men vanished. Revealing a panicked Steve, sat just inches from you on your bed.

Oxygen filled your lungs once again, as you began to come down from your panic attack.

“Steve?” You question.

He nodded, stroking your hair. “It’s me. You’re safe. It’s me.” He pulled you in for a hug.

You blinked the tears out of your eyes, “Oh my God. Steve, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking embarrassed.”

He shook it head, “Stop that. Stop that right now, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. I didn’t know you’d be coming in with Buck, I wouldn’t have let them show that had I known...”

“No, I can’t be put in this bubble and hidden away my whole life! It’s not your fault, it just took me off guard, I haven’t seen that place...thought about it in so long I just...” your voice drifted off as you wiped your eyes.

The camp was where you’d been held--where you’d been taken from your family and hidden away all those years ago.

It took a while, but you’d calmed down. People kept coming to check on you, but Cap would kindly move them along, giving you the space you so desperately needed.

It seemed everyone had come to see you, except one person. The one person you actually wanted to see.

“Cap? Where’s Bucky?” You ask innocently

Steve sighed, “Bucky’s been sent ahead of the rest of us.”

Your eyes widened, “Sent? Sent where? Not Romania. Steve he can’t do this alone he can’t, they’ll—“

“We’re headed there tonight. In just a few hours in fact.” He replied, cutting you off.

You stood from your bed grabbing your pistol from the night stand. “Let’s go now, he needs backup.” You’re desperately trying to hide the panic in your voice.

“Ella no, we’re going. You’re not ready for this.” Steve stood from you bed as well, what does he mean not ready?

“Steve I can’t just sit here and—“

“You can and you will. That’s an order, Ella. It’s clear you need more time to heal, both mentally and physically.” Steve put a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You said it yourself, you need time. I want you to take it.”

The wind had been knocked out of you. You nod at Steve somberly, accepting his words for what they were; orders.

A few hours after Steve had left, you hear the rumble of the Quinjet take off from the roof. Despite the lack of worry in his voice, you could help the awful feeling in your stomach, telling you something terrible was going to happen...

and you couldn’t do anything about it.

You worried for Bucky, but despite your worry you couldn't help wonder why he just left. Why he wouldn't come check on you, or at least say goodbye. He just...left.

You flopped on the couch in the common room, flicking mindlessly through the channels. Tonight would bring nothing but sleepless bouts and nightmares.

You shut the tv off and stare at the ceiling, unsure of when, or if you’d see Bucky Barnes again.

Chapter Eight: Light Bulb

[strykingback]

Ok... Gotta say my Farewell to Vol 8. So If you dont like  what Im about to say best click off now or ignore it.

Ok so you decided to click on it,  Alrighty brace yourself 

This entire Arc was just fucking horrendous. No joke, this entire arc was just garbage entirely, no joke. The way how they made Ironwood into a cartoon villain making him into some albeist joke of people who are diagnosed with ADHD, PTSD, Actual Amputees’, etc. This was meant to be A FUCKING WAR ARC!!!

Which means I expected these few things from this Arc even though I was not watching it.

- Plenty of Character Deaths ranging from Main, Secondary, and Tertiary Characters.

- Stakes at An All New High. 

- Characters being forced to make tough decisions or risks that fail or pay off.

- Uneasy Alliances being forged.

- Tensions between Team RWBY, Ironwoods Group, and Salems. 

-SALEM TEARING ATLAS AND MANTLE A NEW ONE. 

- THE VILLIANS ACTUALLY FUCKING WIN THIS VOLUME. 

Instead We Got: 

-Ruby’s Group BEING INSIDE THE FUCKING HOUSE LIKE IN VOLUME 5 BARELY DOING FUCK ALL!!!

- Ironwood being “villainized” even further instead of turning him into a morally-grey villain. 

- Team RWBY “winning” through plot armor and bad writing like the Mary Sues they are. 

- Bumbleby Ship-Baiting... AGAIN. (Seriously. . . fuck off) (No hate to anyone who ships BB but at this point it was seriously getting annoying and tiring)

- Salem Just Getting Merked... NOT ONCE FOLKS. BUT TWICE!!!

- The Hound Getting Merked.....

Seriously no joke, this was such a bullshit, deadbeat volume. No joke it makes me so frustrated to see that this entire Volume was fucked up to no end. Yangs and Rubys argument did not feel like an actual fucking argument. 

What I expect from an argument was four things.

- Calling them Out On Their Actions. 

- Person A and B Debating About their Actions/Decisions which said argument intensifies. 

- Person A or B Starts a fight after saying something that pisses one of them off

-  Fight Between A and B, Totally Optional to have a bystander such as C or D end the Fight. 

Instead we get....a simple Argument that barely intensifies and only has Yang calling Ruby out on her abilities being a leader of a team. We should have Ruby also calling out Yang for sharing the information to Robyn and her “Happy Huntresses.” Which should’ve escalated to the point where Ruby says.  “Well that Gung-Ho Attitude is what caused you to lose your Arm!!” 

or Yang saying: 

“Well If you didn’t decide to...Oh I dont know have our faces pasted on EVERY VIRTUAL BOARD IN ATLAS FOR YOUR SHIT DECISIONS!” 

Not to mention to have Blake ,Weiss, and the Rest of ORNJ just look in awe or shock.... at seeing them argue to the point where they start fighting SERIOUSLY THATS WHAT A FUCKING ARGUMENT IS MEANT TO FEEL LIKE IN A WAR ARC!!!!

Moving on from that... anyways Cinders Past was just so so so SO LAZY.....

No joke her past was so boring it was to the point where I found it just uninteresting at all. Yet that brings up a good point hat I said once and I will say again. “How Come the FNDM praises Women that get beaten and show love to them rather than Men who also get abused like Adam whose EYE WAS BRANDED and MERCURY WHOSE LEGS WERE BROKEN BY THE FEMUR NO LESS.”

No joke for her it was just... a shock collar and she was berated verbally.....You know this actually makes Ellie from Last of Us Part 2 Look Better than Cinders. (Yeah I went there!)

Like if you want to do Twisted Cinderella with some RWBY Vibes.... heres how you do it. 

- Have Cinder be in Awe at the Sight of a Huntsman or Huntress fighting which inspires her to be a Huntress when Reeves finally tells her she can be one. 

- Show that Reeves does care about her and when he falls ill and dies Cinder is berated even more by the twins and the proprietor where she was enslaved. 

- What Finally causes her to snap and kill everyone was when she finds out her “sisters” burned her Academy Approval letter on their mothers order causing her to kill and murder which she is later on arrested and then bailed out by Watts who leads her to Salem. 

Seriously DO IT FUCKING RIGHT ESPECIALLY  WHEN IT COMES TO CINDER WHOSE PAST WAS IN SHADOWS FOR 8 WHOLE FUCKING YEARS.

8 YEARS AND YOU DROP IT LIKE A RAW PIECE LAMB CHOP!!!

Finally SALEM. Oh God how did they fuck up with Salem?! I will admit there was some moments that spooked me. However it was not enough to make me feel nervous for the characters as a whole. 

Like for example I expected her to wipe the floor with Atlas’ forces and just seriously showing destruction and chaos arriving. Instead last season it looked like she was JUST APPROACHING THE CITY. 

Which would have been a “Race Against The Clock/War” Volume since Salem would have begun her destruction of Atlas and even forcing her way into Atlas.... and then suddenly Hazel performs a Heel-Face-Turn that suddenly screams BS because seriously he should’ve had some sort of a better redemption that felt built up, then she gets  BURNED THEN NUKED BY OZPINS MAGICAL CANE OF SUPERPOWERED BULLSHIT. Which Held enough magic to unleash it....which could have been used during the BATTLE OF BEACON. However, I wont complain about it why?

Cause, I think the major reason is because If he were to use it in there he would be revealing Beacon’s Relic Vault as well to Cinder which she can use to open it and take the Relic of Choice. Which I believe was a pragmatic choice because you also have to think of the people who are still trying to escape or evacuating at the moment. 

Now the ultimate disrespectful thing the CRWBY did for their “Design a Grimm” contest was the Sulfur Fish. 

THIS DESIGN WAS SICK, AND THE ABILITIES WAS JUST JAW DROPPINGLY COOL!

However what does CRWBY do instead of giving a Full Scene where we see its Forms or attacking other soldiers/people. 

It gets... *Drumroll*

A Cameo sequence...thats it. A Cameo....Wow CRWBY you are shit. Just absolutely shit at writing and even giving the winner of the Design-A-Grimm Contest Winner an actual shot...while you overwork your animators giving Anxiety Disorders or PTSD. Great Show. 

 TL;DR: RWBY Volume 8 was one of the most boring, shittiest, and a snoozefest of a volume with such bad writing that it makes even watching The Last of Us Part II look good! 

If you are planning on dropping RWBY let me offer you an Alternative. 

Say hello to Meta Runner! A series that I find to be a favorite of mine and one that is actually better than RWBY’s garbage ass bullshit writing. 

To give you a brief synopsis, This series follows Tari a girl who wakes up in Silica City without any memory of what has happened except some brief flashbacks. To which TasCorp the antagonistic corporation seeks to use her for entertainment, while there is a mystery element about a famous gamer gone missing... and its up to Tari and the help of a Resistance force to find out this mystery. 

This series is done by Glitch Studios which many do know them as...drumroll please!  *drumroll*

The Youtubers SMG4! Who is well known for doing GMOD Shitposts! 

Its actually quite relieving to see a series that these two brothers actually want to share with us! They dont want to do it for money or for anything just for the sake of a good story! 

AND THATS WHAT I LIKE!

Oh did I forget to mention that Meta Runner is backed by:  Epic Games

Crunchyroll 

AMD Lastly.... and hold onto your butts...

THE AUSTRALIAN GOVERNMENT!!!

You know you hit it big WHEN THE GOVERNMENT BACKS YOUR SERIES!!! Come On you cant help but smile at that! So far the Third Season is being worked on at the moment but no release date at the moment so it could be sometime this year or next year. 

So if you have any plans on watching that I highly recommend giving it a watch. Anyways 

Fuck RWBY Volume 8. Fuck the Canon. Fuck Everything about RWBY!

[testedtommyau]

Tested Tommy Chapter 5: Act 1, scene 2 (part 1)

Warnings:  Flashbacks, PTSD, panics, child ab/se in memories

Eyes lit up as the noise of keys in a lock was nearby, it was time for food. Tiny paw-like feet pattered to the bars of the cell, eager eyes waiting for the kind giant to give him something to consume. The large figure walked inside and placed the bowls on the ground, the little creature crawled forward, sniffing at the bowls.

“Gotta eat up, Tommy.”

Tommy.

They always referred to him as that, is it a sound to notify they were communicating with him? It didn’t matter at the time. He took the food from the bowl and sat down, eating with his hands. The cell door closed with the figure leaving, they never stayed with him for the food, it was rather lonely. He would like for someone to stay with him. Maybe one day.

The food as always was… bad. He didn’t want to be ungrateful, but it was BAD. The taste was like licking the floor. But he had to eat, or he got extreme pains in his tummy. The water was fine though, nice and cold and washed away the dreadful taste. ‘Tommy’ went back to the corner of the cell, tail curling up towards him to use as a pillow. He wanted someone there with him, it was very cold and lonely. Tommy closed his eyes and drifted back to what felt like eternal waiting.

-

“Here it is.”

Oh! More giants, does this mean more food? Or maybe one will stay. Tommy got up on his little feet and hurried over, spots lighting up to see the figures entering his cell. The tall figures were all in white, tilting his head he walked closer and curiously sniffed.

BLEH!

Tommy recoiled from the strong smell of whatever was on their outer layer of covering, it felt like something badly burned the inside of his nose.

“It has been with us for six years now.”

“Do you think it's strong enough to start?”

“Only one way to find out.”

One of the figures reached down and took Tommy’s hand, his big glowing eyes stared up at the giant and followed when it stood up and started walking. It was taking him out of the cell! Tommy’s tail swayed as he happily followed the giants that were kind enough to let him out, are they going to take him to a new home?

The area was huge, everything was so big and bright now. There were more giants exiting and going into movable holes in the walls. The one holding his hand took him further down the halls, down to a darker area with a few scattered lights. Tommy gazed up at the giants and was taken inside a room, he looked up at the room sign. 874.

Pointing up to the sign he made a little tune. The scientists stared in awe at the bubbles floating out his mouth, a couple of them popping against the sign.

“That’s number 874.” One of them answered. Tommy did not understand though, maybe later he’ll remember how that sounded and he’ll know in the future.

The room was scary, the giants there were more covered up then the ones that took him here. Their faces covered and like a blank screen. Tommy whimpered and hid behind one of the giant’s legs, hoping it’ll protect him. Instead they picked him up and walked closer to the figures. The little creature squirmed and tried to get away, only to be put onto a table and held there. He sang out more bubbles, the colours fading from greys to black. He wanted to go back, this place was scary, he didn’t want to be here.

-

“Okay, okay, listen we need to have a pow-wow.”

Tommy shook from his sleep as Gordon announced himself to be in need of conversation with everyone. Bubby and Coomer were already sitting up and alert, only with Bubby’s rather grumpy expression directed towards Gordon. He obviously did not want to be woken up just yet. Under Tommy’s arm was Benrey, still snoozing peacefully. Though he didn’t want to wake up the adorable sight he reluctantly shook Benrey awake.

“Wha…?”

“T-Time to w-wake up.”

Benrey groaned and moved up with a huff, helmet tilting over their face before Tommy moved it so it sat correctly on their head. They shared a smile before Gordon went on again about needing some ‘pow-wow’ with the group.

“Everybody sit around, gather around…”

“Mr F-Freeman d-d-don’t herd me like a… like a sheep in a f-f-farm.” Tommy snapped as he plonked himself down into the circle they had created. Gordon gulped quietly and nodded.

“Right, right.”

“I’d like to have a good ol’ yeehaw with you.”

They all looked over at Bubby for a moment.

“What the fuck does that even mean-Where’s the guard?” Gordon asked, Tommy worriedly looked at the spot beside him where Benrey once was which was now empty. The clanging on the other side however alerted them to Benrey’s whereabouts as they jumped up and sat on a barrel, looking rather proud of themselves.

“Do you have to sit on something…?”

Gordon’s voice trailed off as he self-admitted there was no point to questioning the ‘guard’s’ actions. He turned his attention back to the other three.

“We got to get you some more bullets. Oh, Tommy have you- have you ever fought or like, killed anything?”

Tommy stared at him silently for a moment. Gordon couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at his gaze. The stillness let him take in some extra depth of Tommy’s features, the scars on his face, a near invisible red line around his neck, the way his brows got closer together as he stared.

“Yes.” Was all he replied.

Tommy had to admit it was quite amusing to see the nervous shock in Gordon’s eyes.

“Um, you good at it…?”

Strange question, Tommy shrugged before he noticed a pigeon walking around on the floor.

“I c-c-can show y-you on that pigeon.”

Gordon’s nervous expression was replaced with one of confusion as he looked to see the pigeon that was indeed there.

“How did a pigeon get in here?” He asked Dr. Coomer and Bubby, but neither could provide an answer.

“So, y-you want me to kill i-it?” Tommy offered again. Gordon shook his head but before he could tell Tommy no he had already punched it so hard it broke its neck and it dropped dead on the ground. Gordon stared silently for a moment then back at Tommy.

“Okay uh, what about a gun? Should I give you a gun? Be easier then punching if we come across more of those… things.”

Tommy thought for a moment, it was a more tactical weapon for distanced kills without risking someone noticing his use of powers. As he was about to answer, Benrey started to sing sweet voice again, the balls of teal surrounding the pigeon in front of them.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

“They’re hungry.” Tommy answered for them as Benrey kept singing. “T-teal mean, mean n-needs meal.”

“Okay uh, anyway Tommy I dunno if you can use a gun or not. You seem to not be processing what I say to you.”

Tommy felt heat boil up inside him again, he can understand perfectly! It’s this- this mere human ball of arrogant flesh that can’t comprehend that he is perfectly capable of such things. A loud siren-like tune interrupted Tommy’s mini internal rage as Benrey promptly shot the pigeon, blood splattering all over the ground.

“Was that a threat to us? In any way?”

Benrey ignored Gordon’s question and moved over to join the circle.

“Barney?”

What? That’s not their name.

“Wha?”

“T-that’s not their name.”

Tommy’s glare could be felt on Gordon’s neck, he was about to correct himself but another pigeon became victim to Benrey’s gunfire as blood splattered onto both of them.

“The fuck man!?”

Gordon stood up and brushed the blood off vest he could and let out an annoyed sigh. Turning on his heel he stormed off alone down the hall. Benrey visibly tucked their head into their collar nervously.

“Did I- did I fuck up bro?”

They looked over at Tommy who scooted closer and took Benrey’s hand into his, reassuring them that they didn’t do anything wrong.

“Guess we got to go follow the bitching babyman before he does something stupid.” Bubby grumbled, he got up and followed the direction Gordon went, Benrey, Tommy and Dr Coomer got up and joined to follow.

Benrey’s hand wrapped around Tommy’s, giving it a comforting squeeze. Their touch helped ground him as they walked. This place made him nervous, the walls of the facility too high and narrow, like a tunnel.

“All good bro?” Benrey asked, their eyes stared up at Tommy, a hint of worry in them. But as always their adoration shone through just from looking at Tommy. It made his heart swell to see how much the smaller alien cared for him.

“Yes, e-e-everything is o-okay.” He promised, he felt the other press against him and purr softly. Soft warmth radiating off them both as their arms looped together.

“Uh, nothin’ gonna hurt us, yeah?”

Benrey’s eyes were hopeful, little sparkles in the bright yellow of their undamaged eye filled with aspiration to start a new life. Tommy would ensure they get it; they deserve it more than anything. There was a soft touch of Benrey’s clawed hand against his cheek, their gentle thumb tracing along the line of freckles on his face. Eyes fluttered close as the two stood together, the world became still in each other’s company. Tommy’s hand met Benrey’s as he held it against his face, his breathing shook as the tenderness was becoming overwhelming from how badly he needed it. Benrey always knew how to help him.

Benrey was everything to him.

“Where the fuck are you even going?”

Tommy and Benrey looked over to where Bubby was nagging Gordon about which direction they should go. It was a fucking tunnel, no other places to go. Benrey piped up and told the group to go ‘this way’ which was just forward, but someone had to give some sense of direction, right?

They found the end of the tunnel led to a ledge connected to the next route; Benrey peaked at the metal bridge which led to yet another high drop below.

“Don’t look good bro, got uh, lil connecters ain’t lookin’ so strong. Probably weak as shit.” They muttered, moving back to press against Tommy.

It also didn’t help that a portal opened, and an alien popped up out of nowhere and fell onto the ledge, breaking it as it tumbled to its death and destroying their initial path. Well, at least Benrey was right on that it wasn’t very stable. Tommy quickly pulled Benrey out of the line of fire of whatever the fuck the alien spewed out while Gordon frantically checked if everyone was okay.

“Yep just… um.” Benrey wasn’t too sure what to do now, the ledge was gone, and the humans can’t just float to the other side. Maybe there was something below?

“This way. Let’s go.”

Gordon paused and looked at Tommy, who just gave him a small shrug and followed Benrey.

Benrey and Bubby took a peak down the ledge. Minus the walkway below, the pit looked bottomless. Definite instant death if one was to fall in.

“Oh no, no, no, no.”

Bubby backed away in fright from the mere sight of the drop, Benrey instead staring down with a look of awe.

Gordon’s eyes widened when he saw the two near the ledge and panicked.

“No! No! Benrey that’s so far down, please get back!” The fear in Gordon’s voice was noticeable, he was properly scared for Benrey being hurt as Bubby had already started to step away. Tommy knew a fall like that wouldn’t do much damage as they could float, but the worry in Gordon’s voice was a bit endearing. He had already risked himself to remove the headcrab and now Gordon was worrying over another stranger’s safety. Humans were strange.

“Right here to the test chamber!” With that, Benrey hops off and falls.

Gordon ran to the ledge to look down with a gasp, Tommy watched him and listened to his panicked breathing as if he expected a dead body to be splattered on the ground below. Knowing Benrey would be fine, Tommy climbed up the pipes and walked along them, he looked down to see Benrey had got up and left in the direction of the next door.

“Are you okay!?” Gordon called out.

“Right this way.”

And Benrey was off on their way again. Gordon only stared in stunned silence. At least they were okay. But now how the fuck were they going to re-group?

“Gordon are you coming or not?”

Startled, Gordon looked up to the ledge where Bubby was.

“How the fuck did you make that jump?”

Tommy continued walking across the pipes to get across, he felt Gordon’s eyes rest onto him as he kept going.

“Oh, Tommy’s got the right idea!”

Tommy pretended to not hear that, but he did feel a little fuzzy at the sort of compliment. Now to get back to Benrey, wherever the fuck they have ran off to.

-

“Hello Gordon!”

“Hello… Dr Coomer…! Oh my god…”

While listening to Gordon’s voice tiring out of re-greeting Dr Coomer, Tommy kept his eye on Benrey now that they’ve found them. His hand was wrapped around Benrey’s as he didn’t want them running off again. The room was strange to say the least, most peculiar was the boxes suspended in the air, what was the purpose of that? Tommy and Benrey looked at the ledge below them and it was an even BIGGER drop.

“D-Do we have to do this?” They could both hear the fear in Gordon’s voice.

Benrey didn’t bother answering and slipped from Tommy’s grip to jump onto one of the hanging boxes. Not wanting to leave Benrey to disappear again, Tommy quickly jumped onto a box. He tried not to look down, it was a pretty big drop.

A loud scream was heard behind him and Tommy spun around too fast, thinking Gordon was falling to his death. No, the human had landed on a ledge. But his focus was broken and the swinging of the boxes threw him off balance.

“Tommy!” Benrey called out as Tommy slipped and failed to grab the ledge.

“TOMMY!” Gordon almost foolishly ran off the ledge in an attempt to grab him, Tommy let out a scream as he fell into the darkness, out of sight.

-

Hurt.

Everything hurt.

Tommy was curled up in the corner, hugging his tail and shaking from the unbearable new feeling coursing through his body. He looked down at the fabric around his arm, it was tinted red with liquid that was spilled from his arm. Why did they do that? It hurt so much.

The doors open at the usual feeding time, he should go show the nice giant what happened. Maybe it would try and fix the pain. Tommy got up and hurried towards the giant, little squeaks coming from his mouth as he tried to call them over, showing the bandage on his arm.

The attempts were in vain however. The giant ignored Tommy and simply shoved the bowls into his cell, soon exiting and Tommy was once again alone. And in pain. With a whimper tears started to trickle down Tommy’s cheeks, the sting of rejection stronger than before. What was wrong with him? What did he do to make the giants hurt him?

He couldn’t bring himself to eat, he wasn’t hungry at the moment. Pushing his food away, Tommy went back to his corner, curling up and closed his eyes. Hoping this nightmare will end soon.

-

Tommy snapped his eyes open and stopped just before slamming into the ground, his body glowed as he levitated himself to his feet. Luckily, he was too far down to be seen by anyone, though they probably thought he was dead now. Minus Benrey of course. But now that he was alone without humans watching him. He could phase through the wall and get back up to the ledges, hopefully without being seen.

The sound of the group’s voices helped guide him back. He managed to phase out of the wall behind a crate and climb over it with his thin frame.

“Tommy!” Benrey rushed over and hugged him tightly. Tommy quickly returned the hug, holding Benrey close to his body. His eyes trailed over to Gordon as he caught his breath, the adrenaline seeming to subside from his system and a tired smile grew on his face when he saw Tommy was okay.

“Tommy? How did you make it back up?”

Shit, he had to come up with a reason that wasn’t ‘I went into the wall and came up through the wall.’

“It’s, like a big slide! I just uh… I-I l-looped around and c-came back up.”

That was totally believable, right?

“Um… sure, sure.”

That didn’t sound like he was convinced, but it’ll have to do.

-

Benrey’s ears twitched under the helmet, the elevator noises were rather annoying. They fiddled nervously with their vest as the others waited. Bubby looked over to Benrey and gave them a pat on the back, they looked over and gave him a smile but it soon faltered back to a frown.

Bubby turned over to Tommy and grabbed his sleeve, Tommy flinched back with a glare but noticed Benrey gripping at their sleeve. Their eyes wide and darting around the elevator. Dr Coomer and Bubby walked around to Gordon, his back turned to Benrey and Tommy luckily as Tommy held them close, feeling their body shivering.

“H-Hey, what’s w-w-wrong.” Tommy whispered into Benrey’s ear, the smaller alien buried their face into his chest, skin turning a deeper shade of blue as they sniffled.

“What’s going on?” Gordon asked, before he could turn around Bubby pulled out his gun, pointing it at Gordon. Tommy’s eyes darted to the sight, watching Bubby try to distract Gordon while he attempted to quickly soothe Benrey. Gordon may know Benrey isn’t human, but he’s seen the cruelty that comes out of humans when they face Benrey’s body morphs, the last thing they need is someone making them feel worse for being upset. Tommy could feel their skin stretch as more eyes popped up, he looed down and saw two sets of faces warp out as they shook in his hold.

“Shh shh, y-y-you’re okay, i-it’s okay…”

“Can you, not point your gun at me?” Gordon asked, it was at least keeping him occupied.

Benrey’s claws grew as they clung to Tommy, his own hands soothingly stroked Benrey’s back.

“W-w-we’ll be out soon… I p-promise…”

“Don’t… don’t like the… the, the moving boxes… Never w-went to good places.” Benrey muttered under their breath, Tommy’s hold around Benrey tightened, his eyes flashed for a second of gold.

“N-No, we’re not, no going there…” He reassured, Benrey started to calm down.

“Could you not point that at me!?” Gordon repeated, Bubby kept a stern blank face at the man.

“I’m not pointing it at you, I’m just, indicating that I have a gun.”

Bubby looked over to Benrey and Tommy, the morphing seemed to be nearing its end.

“and you should continue looking at me.”

“This seems like a weird threat…”

Tommy focused back onto Benrey, he moved the helmet up and ran his fingers through Benrey’s hair. It was a quick soothing spot for them, closing their eyes they started to purr. Their skin returned to a pale blue and the warping stopped. Tears were still running down their face but that was okay, Tommy softly kissed them away.

“Want off…”

“I-I know, we’ll, we’ll be off here s-s-soon. Sooner then uh, then a slice of cheese m-melting in a fire.”

Benrey chuckled at Tommy’s words, they sniffed and wiped their tears as the elevator dinged when they reached the wanted floor. At least that was finally over.

-

“Another soda spiller!”

“What the fuck did you just call it?” Gordon asked, Benrey looked at him and repeated ‘soda spiller’. Before he could question that any further, he could see a ‘rope’ hanging from a gap in the ceiling. He peaked above and shot the barnacle, its guts spilling onto the floor.

“Alright time for more soda!”

Gordon smashed the vending machine and the drinks spilled out of it, the gang hurrying past him to engulf in the drinks, making ungodly slurping sounds once again. Benrey noticed a little bug crawling on the machine and picked it up, they inspected it for a minute then tossed it into their mouth with a loud crunch.

“Ew no don’t eat the spiders!” Gordon yelled, Benrey ignored him and kept crunching it much to Gordon’s disgust. Tommy picked up a few extra cans and walked over to Benrey, the two sat down on a table and drank at their soda. The cafeteria was… interesting, one of the few rooms that he doesn’t remember entirely despising. It had a few nice smells to go with it but now it was mixed with destruction and alien guts, though it wasn’t like the original was something to praise at. Benrey pulled out a packet of crisps that they snagged from the broken machine, munching on it and leaning against Tommy’s arm. He felt Benrey’s hand wrap around his own, it felt nice as always. Fingers intertwined as Tommy rested his head on top of Benrey’s helmet, closing his eyes.

“Tommy?”

Tommy looked over to the cell bars, recognising that this sound is directed towards him. Though he does not want to go towards them. Last time he did it ended in pain; he didn’t want to feel that again.

“C’mon boy, over here.”

The giant knelt down and held its hand out, offering its touch. Tommy eyed the hand suspiciously, what if it takes him to another place of pain? But in the giant’s hand was something, new? Tommy curiously walked over and sniffed at the object; it was wonderful. It smelt like something he could give a try. Nothing like the garbage he was eating before. He snatched up the object and bit it, it crumbled in his mouth and provided a jolt of pleasant taste in his mouth.

“You like the cookie, Tommy?”

Cookie. Is that what this thing was? Tommy looked up at the giant, crumbs on his mouth.

“Cookie?” the giant repeated. Tommy stared up at it and kept biting at the… ‘cookie’.

The giant held out its hand again and now Tommy took its hand, being led out of the room and given another cookie.

-

Tommy cried in the corner; he was fooled again. The pain surged through his leg as he shivered. What did he do so wrong to make them so angry to hurt him?

Tommy shivered as fresh tears fell from his cheeks.

Please make it stop.

Please make them stop.

Please take the pain away.

Please.

“Please stop running into those!!”

Tommy jolted from his thoughts; Bubby fell to the ground coughing horribly as Gordon shot at a barnacle which had attempted to eat him. He watched Gordon rush to Bubby’s side and attempt to clean off the gunk off the grumpy old man’s clothes. Tommy chuckled quietly as he watched Gordon chase after Bubby.

“Look Gordon! A rope!”

Benrey tapped Tommy’s arm and pointed up as Dr Coomer was swooped up by a ‘rope’.

“HELP ME GORDON!”

“STOP RUNNING INTO-THEY’RE NOT ROPES!!” Gordon cried out, his gun made quick work of the alien and Dr Coomer dropped down as if nothing had happened.

“Look, Gordon, a rope!” he repeated.

“You guys are fucking scientists!! Use your reasoning!?”

Tommy could hear the frustration growing in his tone. His heart sped up as he watched the human’s face grow red with anger, like he’s close to snapping. Tommy squeezed Benrey’s hand, he could handle it easy. But seeing a scientist get mad never ended well.

Benrey noticed Tommy’s discomfort and stood up, gently tugging him away while Gordon continued his snapping match.

Benrey and Tommy found a hallway to themselves, though it probably wouldn’t be long before the others caught up again but, in the moment, they could be alone quietly. Another flock of birds cooed in their presence, flapping their wings and moving out of their way.

“A-a-are you okay? Y-you were rather upset earlier.” Tommy asked, his hand still in Benrey’s.

“Yeah bro I’m uh, all good now, just dumb head sights ya know?”

Tommy could see Benrey was still bothered by it, he wished he could make it all better. That now they were finally out the pain will instantly leave. But it seemed that was not how the world worked unfortunately. The pair were still suffering, Benrey was still dealing with random episodes that freak them out. It wasn’t fair.

Tommy looked at Benrey’s eyes, at least one thing he knew would always be okay is how Benrey made him feel, he pulled them closer and gave Benrey a soft kiss on the lips. Benrey smiled against him and stared into his eyes when they pulled away. Tommy took Benrey’s face into his hands, thumbs stroking across their cheeks. He needed to ensure they were there with him, that they knew he was there for them. Benrey closed their eyes as Tommy traced a line over one of Benrey’s scars on their lips, he placed a gentle kiss upon it.

“God there’s so many birds!”

Tommy and Benrey jumped away from each other in surprise as Gordon climbed down to the room they were in; the moment was nice while it lasted.

“Did we have like uh, like a bank of birds in black mesa?” Gordon asked, looking towards Tommy and Benrey. Bubby muttered ‘what the hell?’ while the other two shrugged.

“Are these like, test animals?”

It was a perfectly fine question to ask, he’s probably right as well. But Tommy felt his heart stop for a moment at the mention of tests despite them not being directed towards him.

“W-w-where you c-c-conducting experiments? Ma-maybe they got loose.”

Tommy looked down at the birds, Bubby and Benrey making quick work of shooting them dead.

“What? No, I didn’t know about any of this.” Gordon replied, he stood by Tommy watching the bloodbath in front of him.

“Were you in the bird division doing any bird tests?”

“NO!”

The NERVE of that Freeman! Even considering that he would ever do such a thing, death was one thing. But the life of experiments!?

Gordon could see the anger in Tommy’s eyes and backed away.

“Then what are they doing here?”

“I don’t know.”

The gunshots finally got to Gordon as he snapped. “Why are you killing them!? They’re just birds!”

Benrey stopped firing for a moment and looked over to Gordon, Dr Coomer inspected the carnage and spoke up.

“We could cook and eat these for food, Gordon!”

“Right so we’re going to eat them? That’s the only acceptable excuse for this!”

“They shouldn’t be here.” Benrey interrupted and went back to their shooting.

“Didn’ let them in.”

Tommy watched the last bird fall to the ground in blood, Gordon’s face still stunned in horror.

“Right this way.” Benrey said as they moved down the hallway.

-

Gordon let out a yell of terror, Tommy looked down where Gordon fell, and the turret was firing at him. That was a rather valid reason to be screaming. Benrey grabbed Tommy’s hand and jumped down behind a crate, Gordon already seeking shelter at the next point while it kept firing.

“Tommy it can shoot through the boxes!” Gordon warned. A headcrab pounced at him but he quickly shot it before it landed.

“Wha?” The turret shot through and hit Benrey’s arm, they let out a hiss of pain.

“B-Benrey!”

Tommy picked Benrey up and bolted, Gordon screaming at him to get to cover fast as Tommy slid down to where Gordon was, the torrent finally halting its fires.

“Is he okay!?” Gordon asked, Tommy leaned back against the wall and sat down, holding Benrey’s bleeding arm.

“Is all good bro, will uh, be healed up in-ow fuck, no time!” Benrey reassured, Tommy letting out a sigh of relief. Dr Coomer and Bubby in the meantime managed to disable the turret, leaving it safe when Benrey got up and looked around the corner.

“Has it stopped?” Gordon asked, Tommy walked out to see Dr Coomer and Bubby there unharmed.

“I-It can’t hurt you, if you’re s-s-smart.” Tommy said, smiling.

“T-that’s why we’re a-all scientists.”

Gordon let out a little laugh and walked over to Tommy with a pity smile on his face. Excuse him?

“Buddy, buddy, that’s not how it works.” Gordon got uncomfortably close to Tommy and placed his hand on his cheek. Tommy’s eyes widened as he whacked Gordon away.

“D-Don’t touch m-me!!” He yelled, turning a heel and storming off. Tommy walked a fair way ahead of the group, why did he touch his face!? Did he think he was going to let Gordon that close to possibly harm him? He’s not stupid.

But also…

Tommy reached up and touched the cheek Gordon had his hand on. It… was closer to how Benrey touched them then how other scientists touched him. While it was uncalled for, he was slow and the touch was placed almost carefully. He felt his face heat up and he shook. This wasn’t the time.

His hand rested on his belt and felt the outline of his gun, he pulled it up and cocked it. It felt weird at first, pointing it to how he saw the guards do so with one hand. Finger on the trigger.

Footsteps approached as the rest of the team caught up with him, Gordon’s eyes widening as he noticed the gun in Tommy’s hold.

“Right uh, you ready to test that thing?” He asked. And Tommy pulled the trigger.

“Dude!?”

Gordon stepped away and Tommy’s own eyes were now wide, he didn’t mean to fire it!

“Um, y-yeah.”

Though it did feel rather fun. He pointed it up, away from Gordon and fired again.

“No, no, no! You don’t just shoot it when there’s people around.”

He gestured to Dr Coomer and Bubby who were below the ceiling which Tommy shot at.

“That w-was test.” Tommy replied, the two locking eyes now.

“You don’t need to test a gun, okay?”

“Y-y-you d-don’t need t-to tell me w-what to do!”

Gordon’s frustration grew as he stepped forward, only for another gunshot to be heard and a dent appear in the suit. The two looking towards Bubby who was aiming the gun at Gordon.

“Seriously!?”

“… Sorry my bad.”

-

“H-How’s the arm?” Tommy asked Benrey, they looked down at the hole in their shirt but the wound itself was near gone, mostly a scar.

“Pretty good bro.”

Tommy smiled and kissed Benrey on the head.

“Oh my god another guard, thank fuck.”

Benrey looked up to see Gordon talking to a guard, dread sank down their stomach but luckily Dr Coomer gave it a good punch in the leg.

Oh, oh shit now he’s shooting at Gordon!

Benrey whipped up their gun and shot the guard in the face, he fell to the ground. Headshot!

“Why would you do that?!” Gordon snapped.

What? Benrey raised a confused eyebrow, they, they saved him? Why was he so upset?

“Assume if we threaten anyone! They’ll assume we are a threat!” He continued yelling. Tommy moved in front of Benrey with a death glare to Gordon, silencing him without a word. He looked at Benrey who was behind Tommy, the look in their eyes hurt and confused with a few blue orbs floating from their mouth.

“I… Just, god please stop killing people…?”

Tommy shook his head. “No.”

Gordon gulped quietly as all four of them stood before him, almost against him. Tommy could see confusion and fear in Gordon’s eyes.

“Don’t hurt him.” Benrey piped up, to Gordon’s surprise. Tommy’s eyes softened as he looked at Benrey. Then back at Gordon.

“L-Lets go.”

-

Sounds of gurgled grunting caught Tommy’s attention, breaking away from the group he spotted a few more aliens. Nothing he hasn’t fought before. He looked at his gun.

But now…

Tommy took out the gun and lined up his finger with the trigger, the alien spotted him and charged forward only to be repeatedly shot with bullets, Tommy firing at increased speed, covering the alien in bloody holes.

“Tommy going ham!” Gordon cheered, Tommy didn’t stop shooting and felt his body fuel with adrenaline at Gordon’s encouragement. The alien attempted to run but Tommy watched it drop to the ground as its body couldn’t handle anymore bullets.

“Go off Tommy!”

Tommy pointed his fun up and fired at the barnacle, finger still pressing the trigger fast.

“Holy shit you got a trigger finger.”

He went into the room the alien tried to escape into, Bubby following behind. Not much seemed to be in there.

“Tommy you said you’ve never held a gun before!”

Tommy looked over to Gordon, uniform splattered with blood.

“Th-This is all instinct, Me Freeman!” He replied.

“Instinct?”  

Tommy nodded.

“I-I, I’ve d-done stuff l-like this a lot b-b-before. Just not with a g-gun.” He explained.

“Oh, uh, okay um… You’re good at it.”

“… Th-Thanks.”

The two stood there in silence for a moment, Tommy’s eyes refusing to meet Gordon’s.

First to break the tension was Tommy walking out the room, Gordon watched and saw the man had once again gone to Benrey. It was probably best to keep moving anyway.

-

The days went by, too many to count despite the tallies littering Tommy’s cell room.

The cell door opened but Tommy didn’t come to the giants, they were not happy when he refused to come over the other times, the purple and dirty yellow marks on his skin aren’t from the pain rooms. They were from the giants when he did something that made them angry, not coming over made them angry. But why would he come near? They keep taking him to bad places.

“It’s time to go.”

He did not go towards the voice. He didn’t grant a glance over to them, simply stared into the corner of the room.

“Do you want another cookie?”

No. No he does not want to go near that ‘cookie’. Every time he was given a cookie it ended in pain. Every time he went near the giant’s and left the cell only ended in pain. Tommy hugged himself tighter, covering his face as he heard the footsteps get closer. Readying himself for the pain that is soon to come.

“Tommy? Come here, now.” The giant demanded. Still meeting refusal, he could hear the frustration grow.

“I will not tell you again.”

Then don’t.

Get it over with.

-

“Yo! It’s the soda!” Benrey called out, Tommy shook his head a little and looked onward at the red light of another machine, rushing over with them to the soda giver.

“Oh, hell yeah, you guys want some more soda!?”

Gordon aimed his gun and shot the machines, the soda spilling out once again as the team flocked around with greedy mouths. Gordon chuckled at them all and took care of the aliens around the corner.

Tommy came up behind Gordon.

“M-Mr Freeman?”

Gordon jumped a little and looked towards Tommy. He put a can of soda into Gordon’s hand.

“B-Benrey said y-y-you need to h-have some soda.”

He looked at the can, a Sprite tm can. He was pretty thirsty… Gordon popped open the can and took a refreshing sip, he noticed Tommy still standing there.

“Oh uh, thank you, and Benrey. Um.”

Tommy stayed silent.

“Listen I uh…” He looked to the others who were busy slurping the soda still. “I’m really sorry, again. For upsetting you and Benrey earlier. It’s, it’s all very overwhelming.”

Tommy looked at him, listening.

“And murder is just, it’s just something most humans don’t go wanting or having to see. But I also shouldn’t have touched your face without asking. I also don’t really like people doing that.”

Tommy felt his chest ache as Gordon talked. This human was going to be the death of him somehow, it was just unclear as to how he would do so.

“It’s, it is r-r-rather, stressful. Th-The situation I-I mean.” Tommy admitted, taking a sip of his own soda.

“Yeah…”

“Yo bro, got the lil science boy to drink something? Get that nutrients?” Benrey barged in, they gulped down a soda, swallowing loudly. It made Gordon laugh at least.

“Yeah, I’m drinking the soda, thank you.”

Benrey grinned and let out some yellow sweet voice. “Niiice.”

Gordon smiled wider at the two, Tommy let a small curve slip before ensuring he was back to a stern look. It was good enough to make Gordon appear more relaxed at least.

“Are you mother fuckers going to hurry up or what?!” Bubby yelled, the three looked over to see Dr Coomer and Bubby were already at the next room. How the? They were just drinking the soda only a second ago!

Oh well.

“’M tiiiired.” Benrey announced, promptly dropping onto the cold floor and staying there. Looks like they were resting for a bit then. Tommy sat beside Benrey and pulled them onto his lap, Gordon sat down in front of Tommy while Dr Coomer and Bubby sat together.

Benrey moved their head to rest on Tommy’s chest, yawning with sharp teeth showing. Gordon’s heart skipped a beat at seeing them snuggled up like that, and the soft hold Tommy had around them.

“So, what about your guy’s lives? Got any family Dr Coomer?” Gordon asked.

“Well, I did have a wife, but they took her in the divorce!” He replied, still smiling wide as if he didn’t just say something that’d raise an eyebrow.

“They took your wife in the divorce?”

“Hello, Gordon! Yes.”

“What the, what do you mean TOOK your wife?!”

“Now Gordon I believe it is rude to press on personal matters!”

He did have a point…

“Yeah, shut the fuck up, Gordon.”

Bubby put it a lot less nicely, but Gordon couldn’t help but chuckle at the old man’s bluntness. He turned to Tommy, who was still protectively holding a near asleep Benrey.

“How about you Tommy?”

“Hm?”

“Got any family, like where are you from?”

Tommy sat there in silence for a moment.

“I… I d-don’t know I’m an o-orphan.” He replied. Gordon’s face changed to one of sadness but didn’t say anything. Benrey opened their eyes for a moment to quickly shoot the pigeon walking closer, no one can take Benrey’s cuddle spot.

“B-But I have a dog!”

“Oh really? What’s your dog’s name?”

Tommy stared at Gordon for a moment yet again, his head saying the words but he couldn’t quite get it out…

“S-sunkist.”

There we go.

“You, named your dog after soda?”

“I-It’s a good n-n-name for the p-perfect dog.”

Gordon kept giggling. “You really like soda, don’t you?”

Wasn’t it obvious? Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah.”

Tommy looked back down at Benrey; their face squished against his chest. He brushed some hair out of their face and looked back up at Gordon.

“So um, what about Benrey?”

Tommy’s eyes flicked down to the ground; his arms pressed them closer to himself.

“Isn’t v-very n-nice. Th-that’s for B-Benrey to t-t-tell you.” Tommy replied.

“Yeah, that’s probably best. He looks so tired…”

“I-It’s been a l-long day…”

Gordon nodded and rested against the wall, Tommy looking away to rest with Benrey.

The room was quiet, Tommy’s eyes wandered at the group settling down to rest. What was life going to be like when they escaped? He’s waited for this day for so long and it’s so close to his reach.

And he hadn’t a single clue what he was going to do with that freedom. The sound of Benrey’s breathing reminded him of who else was holding out on this hope, and he promised that Benrey would see the day of freedom. He has to, he can’t let Benrey down.

Not like his ‘family’ did, whoever they are. If he even had one. There was no point in bothering about whoever they are, they abandoned Tommy. They do not deserve a place in his thoughts. His eyes gazed on to Gordon, he knew what life is like outside… Maybe if things go well he can assist him and Benrey. Maybe...

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me- Chapter 40

WARNINGS: SMUT. NSFW

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @ocfairygodmother​

He wakes to the sound of rain and rolling thunder and the crashing of the waves as they pummel the shore. The storm has brought much cooler conditions; a much needed break from the oppressive heat and humidity that has blanketed Australia for weeks. The wind is strong; bringing with it the heavy smell of salt,  the sound of rustling trees and the fluttering of curtains and the shuddering of windows.  For several minutes he stays where he is; comfortable and content, flat on his back with his closed and a forearm resting across his forehead. Listening to the sounds of the storm and the soft, slow breathing coming from the warm, sleeping figure beside him. On her stomach with the comforter pulled up to the tops of her ears and and her feet sticking up at the bottom; her face turned towards him and her hair messy and falling over her eyes.

Last night had been one of his better nights for sleep. Drifting off shortly after they’d made love for a second time; not hampered by pain in the shoulder or knee and waking up only once with the baby for a middle of the night feed. There’d been no dreams, thankfully. No vivid recollections of being a kid hiding in his bedroom closet, listening  to his father beat on his mother. No visions of Austin -as a child or an adult- and Millie on the beach.  No sounds of gunfire and explosions or the feel of a sniper’s bullet ripping through his back.  Just a peaceful, deep sleep the likes of which he hasn’t experienced in years. At least not without the aid of a lot of booze and a handful of Oxy.

Esme stirs beside him; mumbling in her sleep and then rubbing her cheek against her pillow; a hand blindly reaching out for him and coming to rest on his collarbone.  Counting the five days in Dhaka -and not including the months he’d spent in the hospital- they’ve been sharing a bed for seven years,  yet he still spends a handful of minutes every morning watching as she sleeps. There’s something different about her beauty when she’s at rest; when her features are softer and no worry creases her brow and there’s always a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips.  She seems more innocent. Fragile, even. As if the purity and the youthfulness returns with the temporary banishment of stress and turmoil.

He moves onto his side, the movement causing her hand to slip from his collarbone and down onto his chest.  Her eyes never opening or even twitching when he uses a fingertip to clear the hair away from her forehead, gently tucking it behind her ear. He’d always struggled with moments like these; even after it had become clear that he was in love with her and they’d gotten married and started a family. Always anxious...even self conscious...about allowing him to show that level of affection. To let his guard down and be vulnerable. Emotional, even. Years of having it drilled into his head that that isn’t how a man -a real man- behaves; they don’t allow themselves to be ‘soft’.  Slowly she’d chipped away at the particular wall he’d built around himself, and over the course of their first year together he’d changed considerably; realizing it was okay to allow him to ‘feel’. That sometimes it was okay to think -and react- with just your heart.

Millie’s birth had been the tipping point; breaking down in front of the doctor and nurses when his baby girl was placed in his arms for the first time.  After that he’d no longer felt the need to hold back; comfortable with both saying -and showing- what he’s feeling.  His wife is the only one he truly trusts. Without question or hesitation. Not just with his life, but his heart. Knowing that she won’t judge him for his weaker moments; not seeing him as ‘less of a man’ if he shows even the slightest bit of vulnerability. And not once causing him to question her faithfulness. Sarah had fucked him up; the constant lying and cheating. And he’s never thought he’d ever put that kind of trust and loyalty into another woman again.

He leans in to place his lips on  her brow, then presses a series of feathery kisses against her face; over her eyebrows and against both eyes, down the bridge of her nose, across her cheeks and along her jaw. Their talk last night has unnerved him; forcing him to think about all the time he’s taking HER presence for granted. Those night he didn’t kiss her goodnight because she’d pissed him off about something stupid and trivial, the times he’d left the house following an argument and didn’t tell her that he loved her.  Or when he’d let physical pain and and his PTSD issues get the better of him and he’d been irritable and off hand with her. And there’s so many little things that he’d miss if they suddenly ceased to exist. Her laugh and the sound of her voice and the little she gives when he wakes her up after she’s fallen asleep on the couch with her head in his lap. The familiar scent that clings to her hair and how soft and warm her hands always feel against his body; the way she always stands on the top of his feet to hug him because she truly believes that even that little bit of extra height makes a difference.   And he can’t help but wonder if she ever feels that he’s taken her for granted; if he’s ever given her a reason to doubt just how much he appreciates her.

How much he loves her.

There’s so much uncertainty now; knowing there’s targets on their backs -more so his- and  that legitimate threats have already been made. Even he can’t stop thinking about the ‘what ifs’. If something does go horribly wrong and he doesn’t make it home., Or worse yet, if Mahajan’s people do manage to get close enough that he loses her.  He knows he wouldn’t be able to do it; raise five kids on his own.  He’d be a broken man; turning back to alcohol and pain meds to numb the overwhelming pain and the agony of tremendous loss. He’d been broken; nothing more than a shell of his former self. And then he’d lose his kids too.

His lips press against hers and he feels her smile against her mouth; her hand sliding up his chest and over the side of his head and up onto the back of his head; fingers in his hair as she responds to the kiss. Long and slow and soft, followed by several light pecks and the exchange of sleepy smiles.

“I’m cold,” she murmurs, and slides closer to him; chest pressed against his and her head tucked under his chin.

“I got you,” he says, draping a leg over hers and then wrapping both arms around her; as tight as she can possibly stand.

“That’s better,” she says, and he can feel her smile against his throat.

“You good?”

“Yeah…” she gives a content sigh. “...you’re so warm and you smell so good.”

“Haven’t showered since last night.”

“You smell like you. Like Tyler. And there’s no better smell in the world than that.  You smell like a man. MY man.”

“All yours baby. I’m all yours.”

She smiles again and he feels the tickle of her lashes against his skin when she closes her eyes. Her hand settling briefly on his hip before sliding up over his rib cage and around to his back. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Pretty early, I think. Kids are still asleep.”

“Did you get up with the baby last night?”

“Just once. Around two. She’s been sleeping since.”

“She’s growing up.”

He grins. “She’s not even a month old yet and six pounds soaking wet.”

“She’s starting to change. She’s only getting up once a night now.  And she’s getting longer and heavier. Maybe the newborn clothes will actually fit soon.”

“Maybe. She’s still a tiny little thing. I’m still afraid of hurting her when I pick her up.  I’m not used to one THAT small.”

“You’re a good daddy. A VERY good daddy. You know what you’re doing.  Did you sleep good?”

“I did, actually, No dreams.”

“That’s good,” she presses a kiss to his Adam’s apple. “I had a dream.”

“About what?”

“Us.”

Tyler grins. “Oh really…”

“Not THAT kind of dream. And not a Dhaka dream, either. Just a nice, somewhat normal dream.”

“Somewhat normal?”

“We met in a grocery store. In the produce section. And you had your old haircut and you were barefoot and you had on these low riding shorts and no shirt. I was buying cantaloupe and I had one in each hand and you said ‘nice melons’.”

He can’t but laugh at that, which in turn has her bursting into giggles.

“It was so cheesy but so charming at the same time. Because you said in that voice and with your accent and that makes everything that comes out of your mouth sound so sexy. So yeah...you said ‘nice melons’...and I gave you my phone number and that was it. We would have had crazy hot sex but you woke me up before things could get that far.”

“Why just dream about it when you can actually do it?”

“We had crazy hot sex twice last night.” She reminds him.

“There’s a rule we can’t have it in the morning too?”

“There’s no rule. But….”

“No buts. I don’t want to hear any buts. Only but I care about is this one..” his hands tightly grip her ass, fingers digging through the fabric of her pajama bottoms and into the soft, supple flesh. Pulling the bottom half of her body against his and letting her feel the state of his morning arousal.

She grins. “Almost forty one and you still wake up like that.”

“I’m a guy. I’ll wake up like this ‘til the day I die.”

“The kids are going to be up soon,” she says, but doesn’t protest when he reaches between them to undo the drawstring at the waist of her cotton bottoms..

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, as he sits back on his heels and yanks the pants down and off her legs, leaving them at the bottom of the bed.

“If I was to suggest that, you'd be offended.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do, yeah?”

“You’re very needy lately,” she teases.

“I have my reasons..”

He doesn’t want to tell her how scared he is.  That he’s ’s fully aware of just HOW dangerous and complicated it will be going into Mumbai. Mahajan has placed an enormous bounty on his head, and his reach and influence extend far beyond what Amir Asif had had in Dhaka.  He may be able to get away with killing off two of three of Mahajan’s ‘people’, but after that it would be open season on him; Mahajan will know exactly who is behind the kills and in turn will order for things to escalate. It will be hard to get  around Mumbai without being spotted. And it won’t matter how many people he brings with him. The target on his back will only grow bigger.

“And what reasons are those?” she asks.

“Ever thought maybe I just love you? That I like having sex with my wife?”

“I think you’re very lucky to have a wife that loves you back and also likes having  sex with you. And puts out as much as she does.”

“I definitely don’t take any of that for granted, trust me.”

He places  a kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other; palms on her knees as he pushes her legs further apart.  Lips pressing against each juncture of where thigh meets hip, then moving up her body; hands lifting the bottom of her t-shirt. Pace quicker than the night before as he kisses, licks, and sucks all the way to her mouth. Tongue impatiently pushing past her teeth; calloused palms cupping and massaging her breasts, strong fingers plucking and toying with the painfully hard nipples.

“Get on top,” Tyler gently orders, gripping her hips as he rolls onto his back; one hand moving down to her ass while the other slips up the front of her t-shirt to fondle her breasts.

“You giving up control?” Esme grins, as she kneels between his splayed thighs. “This doesn’t happen often.”

“You better enjoy it while you can. Might be another seven years before it happens again.”

“We’ll see about that.”  Her fingers  hook in the waistband of his boxers, tips soft and teasing as they glide against his skin as she pulls them down. Grinning..almost victoriously...as a hiss escapes his lips when her nails dig painfully into the cheeks of his ass. “What?” she teases. “All of a sudden Tyler Rake can’t handle a little bit of pain? You of all people?”

“I’m about five seconds away from throwing you down and spanking your ass.”

“Promises, promises.”  She leans down to place a trail of kisses along his pubic bone and then lower; lips grazing against the inside of one thigh before sucking and biting at the flesh. “You’re so beautiful,” she breathes, and bite down particularly hard on one spot, causing him to flinch. “...so...so...so beautiful…” She speaks between kisses to the juncture between hip and thigh, tips of her fingers skimming along one side of his cock. A sly grin on her face and her eyes locked on his when she swipes her thumb across the head and proceeds to lick off the precum.

“Get up here.” he breathlessly demands.

“You don’t want me to..”

“I said get up here,”  he orders, pushing a hand through her hair and dripping tightly, gently yanking at it and urging her to do as she’s told.

“You’re very bossy this morning.” she chides, her eyes focused on his wide, dilated pupils and flushed cheeks and the sweat that glistens on his forehead. Her top teeth digging into her bottom lip as his fingers bite into her hips as he assists her in straddling him; sighing as she feels  his length running along her slick folds.

“Just shut up and fuck me,” he growls, a low groan rumbling deep within his chest when her hand wraps around his cock to position it at her entrance. Hands moving from her hips to her ass; tightly gripping it as she lowers herself onto him, both of her hands on his chest for support.  His eyes closing and his head tipping back at the sensation; her tightness and her moist heat. It’s so familiar yet still feels incredible each and every time he gets the chance to be inside of her.

“So good…” she whimpers, his face in her hands as she leans down to kiss him; breasts flattened against him,  one of his hands sliding over her ass and up underneath the back of her shirt. “..you feel so good, Tyler. You’ve always felt so good.”

He grips her ass painfully tight and his short nails rake against her back as he slips his tongue past her teeth; the kiss hungry and aggressive as his hips lift off the bed, pushing further inside of her.  And she gasps into his mouth, the feeling of him being so deep inside of her is almost overwhelming and too much to take; filling her like no man before him ever had.  He moves his hands from her back to her front; palms cradling and fondling her breasts and fingers teasing and playing with her nipples as she begins to move. Slowly and patiently rocking into him at first; eyes never leaving us, her hands planted firmly on his chest. Tyler can’t stop watching her; transfixed by those hooded eyes and her flushed cheeks and the way her hands tumbles down the sides of her face and over her shoulders.  And he groans when she allows his cock to slip completely out of her, only for her to sink back down again in one quick movement. His hands becoming rougher as her movements pick up pace; squeezing and pawing at her breasts, pinching and pulling at the sensitive nipples. Knowing exactly what she needs...what she wants..to bring her closer to the edge.

“Tyler…” she whispers, head falling onto his shoulder, nails dragging down his side. “...make me come...please make me come.”

“Look at me,” he manages through harsh, ragged breaths. “I want you to look at me. I want to watch you come.”

Her head lifts and her eyes flicker open; a slight blush creeps into her already flushed cheeks.

“Don’t be embarrassed, babe,” he says. “Never be embarrassed with me. Keep your eyes open and look at me the whole time.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can. It’s okay. I love you and there’s no reason for you to ever be embarrassed with me.”  He reaches up to cradle the side of her face in his palm, lifting his hips to encourage her to keep moving. “It’s okay, Esme,” his tone is gentle. Soothing. “I got you.”

His confidence in her sparks her own. Her chest heaving and soft, breathy sighs and moans begin to tumble from her lips as she rides him harder and faster. His one hand still on the side of her face; soft and loving, his thumb caressing her cheek and under her eyes and brushes over her lips and chin. A startling contrast to his other hand; rough and aggressive against her skin.

“You close?” he asks, and when she manages a feeble nod, he removes his hand from under her shirt and places his palm against her lower stomach; thumb pushing through her folds and finding her clit. Pressing against it and firmly rubbing at it until she’s coming undone. Her eyes dark and wild and her face flushed, entire body trembling; his name leaving her lips in a strangle cry as she struggles to keep the volume down.  “You’re so beautiful,” he praises. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”

He gathers her in both arms and pulls her down into him; kissing her deeply as his body takes over; those few trusts rough and punishing as he loses control. Her name and a slew of profanities slipping from his mouth as he empties himself deep inside of her. And her body goes completely slack against his; her face buried in the space between his neck and shoulder. His heavy, uneven breath tickling her skin and fluttering her hair.

“I love you,” he breathes. “I love you so much and I don’t want to lose you.”

“I love you, Tyler,” she says in return, lips against the side of his neck. “Tell me it’s going to be okay. That WE’RE going to be okay.”

“We’re going to be fine.” he assures her, and presses a kiss to her sweaty forehead. “I promise.”

****

Addie is the first to wake; her incessant crying filtering through the baby monitor speaker that’s kept in the nightstand next to his side of the bed. Groaning loudly, he untangles himself from a mixture of sweaty limbs and sweat dampened sheets.  Careful not to wake his wife as he gingerly removes both her arm and head from his chest; gently placing the latter upon her pillow before sliding out of bed. Wincing when the simple act of pulling on a pair of sweats causes immediate pain in the small of his back. The arthritis is getting worse; a deep ache that seems to travel straight through into the bone. No amount of over the counter medication takes the edge off anymore, and he briefly considers trying to hunt down someone...anyone..that can get him something strong. Not necessarily Oxy; he’s determined to NOT go down that road again. But something at least equivalent to it.  The doctor will be of no help; his addiction no secret.  

All thoughts of pain meds and other vices disappear when he hears the rustling of sheets and Esme's soft voice behind him.

“Tyler…” she lifts her head from her pillow; so cute when her hair is messy and she’s completely disoriented. “...do you want me to get her?”

“I’m already on it. Go back to sleep, baby.”

He waits by the side of the bed until she settles and proceeds to  draw   the comforter up past her shoulders; tucking   it tightly around her and then placing a kiss to her cheek before leaving the room.

***

Ovi sits at the kitchen table; hair mussed and eyes blurry, a massive bowl of Lucky Charms cereal and a glass of orange juice in front of him. And he manages a smile that comes across as pained and miserable.

Tyler knows a wicked hangover when he sees it.

“You look like shit,'' he comments, Addie laying stomach down along one of his forearms as he grabs a bottle of formula from the fridge. It’s been almost six years of daddy duty and things are routine now; able to do them in his sleep if he had to. Boiling water in the kettle and pouring it into a measuring cup and letting the bottle sit in it for no less than a minute.

Even at three weeks she’s incredibly picky. And demanding. Already taking after her older sister.

“I FEEL like shit,” Ovi grumbles.

“You were already pretty trashed when I stopped by. Did you give up after that or…”

“Drank until I puked. Then drank some more.”

“I remember those days,” Tyler smirks. “Trust me when I say no pussy is worth that.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if Esme left you,” Ovi counters. “You’d probably go on a week-long bender.”

“Probably a month. If not more. But there’s a huge difference. That’s my wife. Not just some girl I’m playing house with. Little worse I think if my wife and mother of my kids took off.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. She’s never going to leave you. No matter how bad you fuck up. All the times you messed up and she still sticks around. She even took you back when shit got really bad. For some reason.”

“Maybe because she’s a grown ass woman and not some little girl. Maybe because she actually loves me. And maybe because three years and three kids with one another means a hell of a lot more than the six months you spent with Chloe. Don’t even compare the two, mate. They’re not even close. Alright, calm down,” he addresses Addie now, as he plucks the bottle from the boiled water and vigorously shakes it; dripping  some of the formula into his mouth to test the temperature. “It’s coming, I promise, Don’t freak out now. Don’t be such a drama queen. You’re not gonna starve. You’re getting more like Millie every day.”

“Knee?” Ovi asks, noticing the wince and the sharp intake of breath when Tyler sinks into the chair across from him.

“Knee. Back. My whole fucking body.” He adjusts  Addie’s position on his arm; laying her on her back with her head tucked into the crook of his elbow, then offering  her the bottle. A smile curving his lips as he looks down at her; those huge dark eyes focused intently on him, her hand coming up to rest on his and her entire fist closing around one of his fingers.  It’s been three weeks and he still can’t get over just how small she is; much daintier and more fragile than all the others had been.

“Daddy’s girl already,” Ovi remarks.

“I think so. Her big sister must be rubbing off on her.”

“It’s always a little weird when I see you doing dad things,” Ovi admits. “Even after all this time. Because I still remember what you were like in Dhaka. And then I see you like this...with a baby...especially a little girl..and it doesn’t seem like those two guys are even the same person.”

“‘Cause they’re not. I’m not the same person I was back then. Far from it.”

“Maybe not in some ways. But in other ways you still are. You’re still Tyler.”

“Old Tyler, new Tyler,” he muses. “That’s what Esme calls them. I like to think I’m more new Tyler, but to be honest, these days I’m not so sure anymore. I’m starting to feel more and more like the old one again. And I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”

“Getting back into the job, you mean?”

“It’s gone way past just getting back into the job and starting my own business. We’re so far past that.”

Ovi’s head cocks to the side, a quizzical look on his face.

“When were you going to tell me about your old man?” Tyler asks. “That you’ve been talking to him?”

The younger man’s eyes widen in surprise. Maybe even a little fear.

“You weren't going to tell me, were you. You had no intention of telling me.”

“I thought I could handle things,” Ovi feebly explains.

“On your own?”

He nods.

“Didn’t handle things so well seven years ago, did you? When you were so scared you pissed your pants. When you shot Gaspar and cried to me about wanting me to go home.  You know who put you in that mess? Who put ME in it? Who got Esme mixed up in it? Your old man. That’s how much he loves you and respects you. Couldn’t even stay on the straight and narrow for his own kid.”

“I know that. I know ALL of that. I know what kind of person he is.”

“Wouldn’t take no for an answer, would he. No matter how many times you said it. He can’t handle the fact that you want nothing to do with him or his business.”

“I DON’T want anything to do with it. That’s not who I am. That’s not who I want to be.”

Tyler’s eyes remained focused on the baby happily feeding; her gaze still on him, her fist holding his finger as tightly as it can. He knows he can stay calm if he just looks at her; at that dark hair and the look of trust and adoration she has for him. Even the purple, pink, and yellow stripes on her sleeper. If he concentrates on all of that, he knows he can keep it together.  

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

“I didn’t want you getting involved,” Ovi replies. “There were so many other things going on. Esme was just getting ready to have the baby and things were stressful and you were worried about them and…”

“You should have told me,” Tyler insists. “We could have stopped it before it got as far as it has. Did he threaten me too? Did he say anything? About me? About my wife and my kids?”

“How do you know all of this? How…?”

“Did he? Mention my wife and kids?”

“He was angry, That I wouldn't go back to Mumbai and take things over. He blamed it on you. Said that you had brainwashed me into into  hating him. Into disrespecting him. And that if you weren't careful, you’d pay for it. Because he knows how to hurt a man where it hurts the most.”

“He say anything else about them? About my family?”

“Just that if you didn’t watch your step, they’d be the ones to pay the price.”

Tyler gives a derisive snort and shakes his head. “And you didn’t think it was a good idea to tell me this? That he was threatening my wife and my kids?”

“I thought I could handle it another way. That I could get into the job and then I’d be able to protect myself. And you guys, My family.”

“That is the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. You’re a kid.”

“I’m twenty,” Ovi argues.

“You’re a kid,” Tyler stresses. “That is my wife and my kids your old man is threatening. And I would do anything to protect them. No question asked. And you didn’t think it was a good idea to tell me about all of this?”

“I thought I could handle it. Especially once Nik got on board and…”

“Oh fuck Nik,” Tyler snarls. “Who gives a shit about Nik. This is my family your father’s threatening. Not Nik’s. And you should have told me. Not her. Because now the shit is really hitting the fan and things are fucked up and if anyone gets near Esme and my kid because of your old man…”

“I think it’s just threats. Harmless one. To scare you.”

“There’s nothing harmless about them. They’re legit. They’re the real deal. You know the next door neighbour?”

“Salena? What about her? What…?”

“Her name isn’t Salena. It’s Allison. Allison Rav.”

Ovi frowns. “She’s related to Saju? How?”

“She was married to his youngest brother. They started a private security company. To honour Saju and the absolute fucking disaster he got dragged into. Your father threatened his family, too. Did you know that?”

Ovi nods.

“Seems to be his thing. Threatening a man’s family. Seven years later and he’s still after Neysa and Aarav.”

“What? Why?”

“Revenge. Saju didn’t complete his mission. Not all of it, anyway. And now her and the kid are in hiding and your old man’s people can’t find them. They’re pissed. So guess who they’re going to take it out on?”

“You?”

“Not just me, mate. Esme, The kids. It could be today, it could be tomorrow. Could be a week. Maybe even a month from now. I’ve got a big fucking target on my back and they’re going to come for my family first. Because they know that will break me. They know my family is my weakness. And they won’t stop until my wife and my kids are dead.”

“So what are you going to do?” Ovi asks. “What…?”

“It’s what WE’RE going to do. Me and you and Nathan. That ex Marine I told you about. We’re going to Mumbai.”

“No,” Ovi vigorously shakes his head. “No. I’m not going there. I’m not going back. I won’t go there.”

“You ARE going. Even if I have to drag your ass onto the plane. You let things get this far. It didn’t need to get worse. If you'd told me right from the start, I could have stopped things before they got worse. But now it’s a regular goddamn dumpster fire. You got me into this mess, you’re going to help get me out of it.  Understand me?”

“I can’t,” Ovi insists. “I can’t go there. I can’t.”

“You’re going. There’s no way out of this. You fucked up.  You put my wife and my kids in danger. You put this target on my back.  Now you’re going to help straighten this shit out. You think I’m just going to sit back and let these people come here? Think I’m just going to wait for them? Fuck that. I’m going to hunt them down. Every single last one. And I’m going to put a bullet in each of their heads. And your old man is the last one on my list.”

Ovi blinks. “You’re going to kill him?”

“You going to stand in my way?” Tyler retorts. “Because if you even try to stop me…”

His voice trails off at the sound of little feet rushing down the stairs. Accompanied by boisterous chattering and giggling  from the three oldest and Declan’s broken speech and ear piercing shrieks; a tired sounding Esme begging them ‘turn it down a notch,”  And soon they’re flooding into the kitchen; little arms wrapping around his neck and kisses being pressed to his cheeks and their ‘good morning daddy’ in those tiny voices.  Always happy to see him. Even if it’s only been ten hours since he tucked them  into bed. Always trusting that he’ll be there. Never worrying they’ll come downstairs and find his chair empty.

“Good morning.” Esme places her hands on his shoulder and kisses his temple. “Everything okay? You guys look pretty serious.”

“Just having a little chat,” Tyler says. “About what we talked about last night.”

“Not right now, please, Not with the kids here. They don’t know about any of this. Normal, remember? We need to keep things normal for them.”

He nods in agreement, and she pecks his cheek and tousles his hair before heading to help the kids with preparing the Sunday morning family breakfast.

“You won’t stop me,” Tyler says to Ovi. Voice low. Menacing. “You CAN’T stop me. And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t even try.”