#had to keep the steering wheel gripped so I wouldn’t run off the bridge

[queen-asiad]

This sucks…….

[lanarist]

Hii, I really loved your Plug!Dabi headcanon, I was wondering if you can do a mini fic of him dating the reader or something like that.. if not that’s okay!! Also I love your writing 🥰💕

a/n: Absofuckinglutely I can. This got me so excited. Also thank you for your kind words 🥰 I did not expect my first time publishing my writing to get this much attraction but I’m grateful! I hope this is to your liking 💙

Plug! Dabi head cannon right here

Warnings: drug use, drug dealing, slight violence, guns, lil bit of foreplay, intercourse.

we got a lil bit of everything in here. smut, fluff, and angst.

Also, minors DNI✨

Tags: @bakugosbratx

Sunlight poured in through the blinds of your lover’s room as you began waking up from your slumber. Your eyes were still closed but you could hear the soft ruffling of drawers being shut and jingling of car keys.

“Baby, wake up for a sec,” Dabi cooed while rubbing your bare back, “I gotta go make a sell real quick. I’ll be back.”

“Wait,” You whisper, voice still groggy. You raise yourself on your elbows and squint your eyes. “Can I come with you?”

Dabi sighs. It’s not that he doesn’t want you to tag along with him. He loves having you in the car with him to run errands. But, this deal was sketchy to say the least.

He was going to meet the buyer at some abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. The dude was was only wanting $20 worth of doja, which was already odd to Dabi because the minimum he’s ever made was an easy $50. Not to mention the dude wasn’t a good person at all. The whole ordeal was just sketchy all around.

“I don’t know about it, doll..” He tells you with a sympathetic smile, “Maybe next time.”

“Please?” You pout and put on the best puppy dog like eyes you could muster. “I just wanna ride with you. We could get food after, my treat.”

Dabi breathes heavily through and out his nose, pinching the bridge with his thumb and pointer finger. How could he say no to you? Especially when you have that irresistible pout on your face?

“Fine, but you already know I’m not letting you pay for me.” He chuckles, “I wanna get this done so just get dressed. You can put on one of my shirts, I’ll be in the car.”

You grin sheepishly as he closes the door behind him and you get up from his bed. You hum lightly to yourself as you go through his shirts in his closet. You grab one of his plain black shirts and throw it over your body, it falling right in the middle of your thighs. Your hand reaches out to the floor and you grabs your shorts before pulling them on. You slip your shoes on while throwing your hair to an acceptable messy bun and walk out of the door.

————

“Doll, listen.” His tone undeniably nervous, “I need you to be quiet when he comes to the car. This dude sketches me the fuck out.”

“Okay..” You say, unsure of why he’s so spooked.

Dabi’s car comes to a smooth stop at an old abandoned warehouse. He moves one hand from the wheel and places it on the stick shift to put the car in park.

The sound of a phone ringing filled the car as you scan the area. You felt a small amount of fear forming in your stomach as you gathered that you two are in the middle of fucking nowhere.

“Yeah?” Dabi speaks as he holds the phone to his ear and turning his head in every direction, “Yeah I’m here. Where are you?”

“I’m about to pull up on you. Anyone with you?” A rough voice spoke on the other end.

Dabi hums and places his hand on your thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze, “I got my girl with me.”

“Ight, I see your car. I’ll be there in a sec.”

Dabi hangs up the phone with a heavy breath. You place your hand on top of his and caress it with your thumb.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You assure him with a gentle smile. “Just get the money, give him the stuff, then we can leave.”

“Yeah..” He sighs, letting his head fall back onto his headrest. “I just got a bad feeling about this dude, I don’t like him.”

“Then why are you selling to him?” You ask, genuinely curious.

Dabi shrugs his shoulder, “Money.”

The sound of a door being slammed shut made Dabi turn his head in that direction. He removes his hand from your thigh and breathes heavily one more time before rolling his window down.

“What’s up man?” The dude speaks joyfully when he gets to the window.

You don’t dare to look into his direction, but his voice alone made your skin crawl. His tone was full of farce friendliness. In the corner of your eye you could see that Dabi was gripping his steering wheel tightly and his chest was rising up down at a steady pace.

“Sup John.” He greets the man back, “You only wanted a couple grams, right?”

“Yeah man, that’s fine.” John waves his hand sheepishly. “Thanks for meeting me here.”

“No problem.” Dabi tells him before turning to you, “Can you get the bag out of the glove box?”

You nod and lean forward to open the glove box. When you open it you see the manual book that comes with every car, a black smith & wesson pistol, and the bag full of doja. You had to bite your tongue to keep yourself from gasping, you didn’t know he owned a gun.

Then again, why wouldn’t he? He is a drug dealer after all.

You reach into it, carefully grab the bag full of green nugs and take it out before shutting it. You lean your body back against the seat and hand the bag to Dabi.

When you turn to look in Dabi’s direction you gasp and your stomach drops. Fear consumed your body and you start to shake.

Dabi notices the expression on your face and his eyes go dark. He turns to face John again and was met with a gun pointed in his face.

Dabi chuckles darkly, clicking his teeth and laughs like a villain.

“You’re kidding, right?” Dabi taunts John. “You gonna try to rob me?”

“Cut the tough guy act, asshole.” John hisses as he cocks the pistol and has his finger over the trigger. “Give me your shit and you both can leave. I doubt your girl wants to see your head blown off.”

“Hmm, you know people will come after you, right?”

“Your friends? I’ll take my chances.” John laughs, then motions his gun to Dabi’s hand that held the bag. “Come on, get to it.”

It all happened so fast.

Dabi chuckled darkly one last time before he quickly grabbed the gun from his hand and slammed it against his head. John’s unconscious body fell backwards onto the ground as blood trickled down the side of his face.

Dabi throws the gun out of his window and reaches over you to the glove box. He grabs his gun and slams it shut.

Dabi pushes the clip all the way in with the palm of his hand and cocks his pistol before aiming out of his window. The sound of gun shots infiltrate your ears as you place your hands over them.

After the final shot, Dabi throws his gun into his lap after unloading it and speeds off. His tires squeal as he drifts onto the road.

“Did you.. Did you kill him?” You whisper breathlessly, ears still ringing.

“No.” Dabi assures you, keeping his eyes on the road to avoid your shock filled gaze. His knuckles were turning whiter than his pale skin as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“But he sure as hell ain’t going no where with fucked up tires.”

————

Not another word was spoken in the car as he drove you both back to his place, food long forgotten. Now back at his place, you laid on his bed finally calmed down as he sat on the side of his bed with his back facing you.

His white hair was an absolute mess from the many times he’s ran his hands through it with a loud sigh. His elbows rested on his knees while his head rested in his hands.

“Baby..” You cooed, hesitantly reaching a hand out to touch him. “Are you mad at me?”

“What?” He turns to face you, his blue eyes glossy and cheeks red. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I begged to go with you..” You pout, letting your gaze fall down to the comforter on his bed. “You haven’t talked to me either..”

“I could never be mad at you.” He assures you before laying his body down next to yours. He takes your hand in his and raises it to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“I’m mad at myself. I knew better than to have you there with me. I had a bad feeling even before we left. Yet, I still let you come with me..” He whispers.

You felt your heart clench inside of your chest as he spoke. You have never seen him so shaken up like this. He was never one to show anyone his vulnerable side. The way he always carried himself it was surprising to others that he had emotions at all. It was even more of a shock that he had you. According to Keigo, he never gave anyone a second glance, and he definitely didn’t let people smoke his stash like he does with you.

You were different than the rest in his eyes. No one understood him like you do. No one has ever cared or worried about him. That’s why he couldn’t lose you.

“I don’t know what I would if something had happen to you today..” he whispered again, “I can’t lose you, y/n. I love you too much.”

What did he say?

“Pardon?”

“You heard me.” His blue eyes look into yours, full of love and admiration, “I love you, so fucking much.”

Tear brim your eyes as you take his face in your hands, “I love you too, Touya.”

That was the first time ever since you’ve been together, that either of you spoke those three words.

He lets out a small laugh before pressing his lips onto yours, pulling you into a passionate kiss. His hands find purchase on your cheeks as your lips danced against his.

“Can I just say that despite being scared for my life..” You pull away to speak, “Seeing you like that, was hot as fuck.”

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles, moving his hands down to your throat. “Good to know, baby.”

Dabi smashes his lips back on yours and moves his body to hover over yours. Your hands reach down to the hem of his shirt and tug on it. He takes the hint and pulls it off of his body with one arm.

Your hands lay on his biceps as one of his hands traced down your body, starting at your collarbones, through the valley of your breasts, and down to the top of your shorts. His hand pushes pass your shorts and panties, then two of his fingers land on your clit, rubbing soft and smooth circles.

You whimper against his mouth and dig your nails into his arms, causing him to smirk against your lips.

You have one of your hands travel down his body and push it under the band of his boxers. Now it was your turn to smirk as he groaned into your mouth when you took his cock into your hand, pumping gently.

“Fuck doll,” He growled when you let your thumb swipe over his tip, “I need you, right now.”

“You have me.” You purred and bit his lower lip.

Dabi removes his hand from your clit and raises up off of you. As he took the rest of his clothing off, you did the same. Clothes were thrown and long forgotten on the floor of his bedroom.

His body laid back on top of your as he made himself comfortable in between your legs. Soft whimpers emitted from your lips as he started to slide his cock over your wet sex.

You both gasp against each other’s mouths when he slipped all the way into your wet cavern. He could never get over the fact of how he fit into your walls so perfectly. Like it was molded just for him.

His thrusts were much slower than usual. His hands weren’t choking you or pinning your wrist down. He wasn’t attacking your neck or breasts, leaving his mark. No degrading words were being thrown at you.

Instead, he slides his hands into yours and intertwines your fingers as his hips met yours slowly and he breathes heavily into your neck.

He was making love to you.

His name and profanities tumbled out of your lips as he hit that sensitive spot inside of you. You moved your hands out from under his and wrapped them around his neck.

“I love you,” He breathed into your neck before lifting his head to rest his forehead against yours and his hands cup your face. “So, fuckin, much.”

“I love you.” You whimper, placing your lips on his as he continues his slow and smooth thrusts.

You feel yourself clench down on him and your heart rate increases, the coil burning inside your stomach about to break.

“Baby, I’m about to-“

“I know, Doll. Me too.”

Dabi’s pace increases as he takes his final thrusts into you. His lips take yours into a searingly passionate kiss that stole the air right from your lungs.

You both moan one last time before Dabi stills and his hold on your face tightens. Pleasure struck through the both of you as you hit release. His hips move lazily as he fucks you through your orgasm. No high from any drug could compare to the one you reach together in these intimate moments.

One of your hands massage through his hair while the other does the same up and down his back as you both catch your breath. The soft sounds of his breath against your neck making you feel sleepy.

“You wanna go get some food and smoke?” He asks while lifting up to see your adorable fucked out face. That was his favorite part.

“Absolutely.”

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 30/?)

Chapter 30: Where the Skies End

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • 18 • 19 • 20 • 21 • 22 • 23 • 24 • 25 • 26 • 27 • 28 • 29 • 30 • more coming soon

[ You can also read on AO3 ]

Unsurprisingly, and much to your frustration, Connor had finished the move without you. There might not have been much left to move at that point; but, it was your stuff at a house that you rented, and not Connor's responsibility in the slightest.

But, there was no telling the android that, and you knew that he would have been well equipped with plenty of reasons as to why he could handle the rest of the move alone: you needed rest, he didn't require sleep, etc, etc.

When you stepped off the elevator into the android's - and now your - apartment, Connor had a look on his face, as if you had come home for the first time in years. You had only spent a week at Hank's place, and only a day and some odd hours at the hospital prior to that, and Connor had been nearly inseparable from you the entire time; yet, it felt like ages since you had been here.

It was only then that the weight of your near death experience became apparent. Before, your life, or the loss of it, wouldn't have impacted anyone else. It was just you in that little house, trying to make a living, picking up the pieces of a war and watching humanity change astronomically.

Now, there was a life that would be changed if you were gone. You let yourself imagine how Connor would cope, what would become of him, and struggled to keep the sorrow to yourself.

Perhaps, for the first time in your life, you knew what it was like to be needed.

Your wound healed remarkably in the weeks that followed. The scar left behind was star shaped and your skin was darkened around the sunken surface. But, you didn't find yourself hating it as much as you thought you would.

It wasn't something you looked at with pain or regret, but rather something prideful. Maybe there was something masochistic about it, not that you found yourself bothered by that realization.

Your coworkers thought it looked 'pretty cool' and declared that it made you 'quite the badass'. Now, you could wear the badge of 'I've been shot', with a bizarre story to tell. You didn't care if people thought it was strange, letting yourself get shot for an android.

Connor was much more than 'just' an android. He was the man you loved, who carried an astronomical burden you could barely understand. Sure, you could judge the weight, the pressure; but, you, an ordinary human, couldn't possibly understand what he felt as the target of a revolution that would change humanity forever.

The thoughts became clearer as you and Connor stepped into Haven for the last time, and you took in the emptiness, the quiet, and the cold.

"One moment," Connor advised you, stepping away and into the open space in the center of the room.

RK800, like all androids, had no true sense of temperature. Connor couldn't feel cold the way humans did. His artificial skin wasn't going to prickle with goosebumps and his muscles wouldn't shiver from the discomfort.

His HUD could report the weather if he enabled it and he had various feedback modules to inform him of how the temperature would affect a human, with the rightful assumption one would be in his presence.

Yet, despite this very well known limitation of his being, Connor couldn't explain how he managed to feel so cold as he stood there in the very abandoned Haven.

He was aware that warmth could be metaphorical, symbolic of belonging and comfort. His sense of cold was both literal and figurative in this sense. Without any machines running, all the lights turned off, Haven had become very cold. The halls, once busy with androids, were now empty, and the building was silent if not for the creaking walls.

-until someone walked through the distant corridor, their quiet footsteps rattling in Connor's acute hearing module.

There was an apology on the tip of Connor's tongue when he caught the sight of Markus. However, the RK200's stare wasn't cold or untrusting. There was something undeniably regretful on his face, conveying sympathy to the fellow android.

Markus' mismatched eyes caught the sight of you over Connor's shoulder, and spared a sad expression.

The two androids had agreed to meet here, for the last time in circumstances like this, hopefully. Once the final bill was passed, and androids would be proper citizens, there would be no need for this.

However, Connor had yet to obtain a definitive lead on Reaves' accomplices. This, at the very least, could provide some security for the androids that came before him.

"I know you didn't want me to," Markus began. "But, I will tell them it's from you. They should know."

"It's... your choice," Connor replied quietly, hoping to mask the uncertainty in his tone.

The two androids took each other's wrists, pushing the fabric of their jackets out of the way to touch skin to skin. Connor knew that Markus trusted him. He took the file without even bothering to scan it first. Only once it was already saved on his local system did he bother to analyze it.

The detective android had worked on that during your recovery week, while he laid beside you in low power mode. He reviewed the log files on his internal firewall over a thousand times, and crafted additional security protocols, specifically designed around write protection. Factory defaults, if he could help it, would be near impossible.

Markus could share this new code with other androids. If Connor failed to stop it in time, at the very least, their memory modules would be protected from brute force attacks, cyberlife certified or otherwise.

As their hands parted, Connor seemed to understand why he felt so cold. He had grown accustomed to how your skin felt - how human skin felt. Even when you weren't acutely aware of it, you were always warm.

"You're one of us," Markus declared, his hand dropping to his side. "We couldn't have done this without you. Your sacrifices need to be known."

"Sacrifices," Connor parroted quietly, doubtful.

He thought about Reaves' disbelief, at how he prioritized saving your life over securing the future of his kind. He could have killed you, carried on the mission, secured all of the chips and brought the android protestors to absolute surrender.

But, he didn't.

Before you, what had he gambled, if not his own life? A life that, by the very words of his creators, didn't exist, was meaningless, just programs executed in succession. He had questioned the very existence of his own life, but so had every android before him.

Still, the determined look on Markus' face didn't falter.

"Until we meet again," he offered, nodding at his fellow android. His eyes landed on yours before he turned away, and you offered him a sad, small wave.

As Connor passed, he took his hand in yours and guided you out of the building with careful steps. It was unnecessary to bring you here, but he understood the importance of goodbyes, and didn't want you to believe your efforts here had been in vain.

You expected to be driven home after that; however, as you climbed into the car, Connor asked, "would it be alright if we went to the park for some fresh air?"

"-'course," you replied softly, shifting your gaze from the android's face to look out the window.

Connor was uncharacteristically quiet during the drive, his hands gripping the steering wheel in a death lock. You didn't pay much mind to it, figuring he was stressed after everything that had happened. You had been the one on death's door; yet, Connor was the one seemingly always on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

It was worrying; but, you knew he needed to work through it in his own way.

At the park, Connor had hoped you would head straight for the bridge, to a place you had cherished so much. If his research was accurate, this needed to be done at a special place. As he followed you slowly up the curve, feet tapping against the boards, a wave of doubt washed over him.

You looked stunning, standing upright for the first time in weeks, with pep in your step, the sun soaking up your hair. Could he really have this? Could he even think himself allowed for such a thing? Could an android truly understand the needs of a human?

"You alright?" you called out to him, pausing before you reached the apex of the bridge.

It snapped him out of his stupor, and Connor replied softly, "I'm fine."

You continued and he followed, counting the steps despite how unnecessary it was. The android knew he had never been this scared in his life. This type of sensation was really, really unpleasant. His processors were giving him ridiculous warnings that didn't pertain at all to the situation.

He shut off the alerts and met you at the top of the bridge. His hand slid over the railing, analyzed the material as a strong timber, coated with a lacquer color called 'cedar brown', manufactured by-

Connor quickly closed the analyzed results, realizing how pointless that was. He was distracting himself, busying his processor with his manufactured purpose to avoid something he was definitely not made for.

At the top of the bridge, you turned to the man standing beside you, just in time to see him deactivate his human skin. His gaze met yours, and you smiled at the sight of RK800, as he was made, without the imitation of human-likeness.

For a moment, he stood there and let the heat of the sunlight catch on his sensor processors. The human tone of his factory issued skin flickered back on briefly before shutting back off, as Connor mentally questioned if he should do it like this.

The sudden nervous expression on his face, and his flickering pallet, had you concerned. In the sunlight, you could catch the subtle flaws in the design of his optics: the faint glimmer of a camera lens hidden beneath the almost perfect human appearance.

"Are you sure you're okay?" you asked, suddenly reaching for him. Your hand fell into the curve of his elbow.

"There's-" Connor began, stopping himself when a jogger passed the bridge. He was silent until they were gone.

"There's something important I need to ask you," Connor explained, his voice quiet and hoarse. "I'm sorry for not being more forthcoming. I was afraid."

Despite the obvious implications of what that question was, your head swarmed with the worst possibilities. The detective android, who had stormed a building of armed men to rescue you, who never hesitated to take a bullet for anyone, was afraid of something?

"Connor," you murmured, his name falling from your lips without purpose. The concern, however, was heavy in your tone.

"Before I ask, you need to know that you can refuse. There is no obligation, despite what we have been through. I won't hold any negative feelings towards you. From my research, this is premature, and I apologize for that," Connor babbled.

"What?" you blurted. "Connor, what are you - what's wrong?" you insisted, pitch rising as you started to panic.

"Nothing is wrong," he replied sharply.

He stepped back, just enough to create a few inches between you. You watched him reach into his coat pocket and pull out a small box. Mind hazy with the aftermath of Reaves' attack, you feared Connor was going to present you with evidence, that the case had taken a dangerous turn, or even inform you with the worst possible news.

But, then, Connor, cupping the small box in his palm, knelt down onto one knee. He looked up at you, brown eyes bright in the sunlight, android skin white as freshly fallen slow, failing to conceal the crease in his brow as worry sank in. The box opened, but you were too focused on his face to bother looking inside.

"Will you marry me?"

You could have laughed, at yourself, really, for thinking he was going to talk to you about Reaves, about factory-resetting computer chips, and the potential downfall of androids.

Instead, you let out a choked gasp. It was pathetically wet and embarrassingly loud. It all came pouring out before you could even think to stop it. Connor's nervous expression melted into panic when you started crying hysterically.

He was shifting to stand up, an apology hot on his tongue. He could feel his processors heating up, threatening to lock up at the sight of your tear-soaked face. It had his internal processes soaring, questioning if he had misinterpreted your relationship, your feelings for him.

You flung yourself into him before he could stand up, knocking the jewelry box right out of his hand. It clattered noisily on the bridge. If Connor was human, he would have followed; but, he was sturdy and, even unprepared, managed to stay upright as you crashed into him. His knees hit the bridge and his hands cautiously cupped your back.

"Yes!" you cried out, pressing your cheek into his coat, some odd centimeters from his thirium pump.

Your arms squeezed at his back, hands clawing into the thick fabric of his coat. Connor was unmoving, stiff where you clung to him. The artificial movements he made to appear more human had ceased, and you briefly feared he had powered down.

"Yes," you declared again, softer this time, squeezing him even tighter.

Finally, his systems relented and he properly relayed to his processor what you had just said. His arms wound around your back and, for the first time in weeks, Connor hugged you tightly, as if he wasn't afraid that he might hurt you. You could feel the tightening of his fingers tugging at your blouse, the thirium pump in perfect beats inside his chassis.

"Yes," you said again.

His cheek fell against your hairline and he closed his eyes. He wanted to dig his fingers past the fabric of your clothes, to feel your skin in a hopeless attempt to interface. Even if he could only reach your body, even if your mind was out of reach, that was good enough.

"Yes," again.

For now, the ring laid forgotten in its case, the jewelry box sitting some odd feet away, flipped on its side.

[echo-hiraeth]

31 + 34 with javi pls <3

Perfect - Javier Peña x F!Reader

You have no idea how much I like actually love requests though!! Sorry it took me so long <3

Prompts:

31: “You’re not going out dressed like that”

34: “You’re so perfect it hurts”

Masterlist

Your clammy hands were shaking as you checked yourself in the mirror yet again. You looked amazing, the short dress with cut-outs leaving little to the imagination. Today would be your first time on the frontline. The Rodriguez brothers were having themselves a little get together, the perfect way for you to infiltrate and get some intel. It wasn’t exactly your style, but you knew for a fact that the only women there were either the ones they scattered from brothels or the rich girlfriends and wives of other sicarios. And since you had no husband for the night, you had to opt for the classic prostitute, much to your own dismay. It wasn’t the first time you’d been used for your assets, the delicate touch and approach of a woman having been proved successful more than once. But to your personal relief, Chris and Daniel, two fellow agents working under Peña, would be right there alongside you.

The tacky red lipstick sat on the counter, practically laughing at you. You quickly put it on, sighing as you reached for the cheap perfume to go along with it. Your fellow agents had provided you with the little outfit, the platformed heels a practical joke more than anything. You’d get them back for this, sooner or later. Three honks outside your building let you know they were here. You scurried for your purse, making your way outside on the torturous shoes. Peña lifted his hand on the steering wheel, greeting you. You got in next to him, sliding into the passenger seat.

“Feistl and Ness not coming anymore?”, you asked, gesturing towards the empty backseat.

He turned his head towards you, sighing deeply. “Get back inside.”

“Mission’s off?”, you frowned, sounding more confused than ever.

He raked his eyes over your body, shaking his head in disapproval. “You’re not going out dressed like that.”

You scoffed at him, turning your body in his direction. “Excuse me? Your men picked this out for me. This is the dress code.”

“Right, you’re just asking for it dressed like that”, he groaned, averting his eyes.

“I’m just gonna pretend like you didn’t just say that”, you laughed, leaning your elbow against the window, “Just drive, yeah? I want to get this over with just as much as you do.”

He started the engine, giving you a quick glare. “Fine. But I’m sticking around. I’ll park a street or two away and need you back in an hour, if not I’ll come looking for you myself.”

“Whatever, just let me do my job. We could use some new leads, can’t let them get away much longer”, you reasoned.

“Leads mean nothing if you’re dead”, he replied coldly. “I-I just want- need you to be safe.”

You smiled a little to yourself, giving him a nod. “I try my best, boss.”

“Javi, call me Javi. We’re not at the office”, he insisted, tilting his head at you.

“Well Javi, looks like this is my stop”, you smiled, reaching for the door handle.

He grabbed a hold of you other wrist, making you whip your head around. “Please – whatever happens, don’t leave the party, don’t even leave the dancefloor. If at any point you feel unsafe or uneasy, come back, no one will hold it against you.”

“I promise you.. I’m okay. I’ve done it before, chat some, dance some, flirt a little bit, get them drunk enough… I’ll be fine.”

He was reluctant to let go of you, resisting the urge to just drive off with you. It was your job, you were trained to deal with these kinds of people. He was probably just overreacting, being overly protective over one of his agents. Except that he never felt this way with the guys. Surely he was seeing things, surely there wasn’t any depth to your kind words and special attentions. Surely you wouldn’t even consider him for a fuck, with the obvious age-gap and all. Not only that, he was well-aware of the way he was so out of shape, the start of a beer gut becoming more and more obvious. He wasn’t the womanizer he once was, but there was just something about you, some magical, gravitational pull that had him breathing heavy when you were close.

“Javi.. I need you to let go”, you repeated for the third time, finally pulling him from his thoughts.

Shit – that was embarrassing. He quickly pulled away, nodding at you. “Good luck.”

You left with another smile, waving to him as you rounded the corner. He let out a breath, softly banging his head against the car-seat headrest. His fingers strained against the cool leather of the steering wheel, teeth gnashing as he tried to keep himself from running after you. You were a big girl, he told himself over and over, you could handle yourself.

The partly was bustling with people, drinks and cocaine flowing freely. You headed for the bar, grabbing a shot of tequila as you scanned the dancefloor for any possible leads. Along the way you’d spotted Daniel, grinding with some girl. At least he was enjoying himself. Chris was off to the side, talking and laughing with some unfamiliar men. It was then you spotted one Gilberto’s wives. An unexpected turn of events to say the least. She caught your eye just as you were looking at her, and gave a saccharine smile, moving to walk over to you.

“Entonces, viniste solo, o..”, she asked, purring into your ear. (So did you come alone, or..)

“Sí, ¿estoy haciendo algo mal?”, you questioned, purposely raising the pitch in your voice to feign innocence. (Yes, did I do something wrong?)

She let out a soft laugh, placing a hand on your shoulder as she leaned in closer. “Me gustaría que conocieras a alguien.” (I’d like for you to meet someone.)

It’s not like you had much of a choice anyway, her tone and grip on your wrist saying as much. You smiled back at her, nodding your head. She lead you into the bar, taking you into one of the backrooms. In passing you’d spotted the Rodriguez brothers in a small room, talking about something you couldn’t quite understand. She gestured for you to stay there, in the middle of the hallway as she disappeared into the nearest room. The stench of sweat and sex hit you hard, making you shiver against the wall. A young girl stumbled out of the room, face stained with black streaks and the straps on her dress torn apart. You gulped a bit, this being much more intense than what you were used to. It was then the wife remerged, leading you into the room. You had to keep your mouth from falling open, David Rodriguez, the big boss’ son sitting there, half-naked, smirking up at you.

“Gracias mamá”, he cooed, pointing the other woman to the door.

He stood up, buckling his belt and zipping his slacks up before stalking over to you. He hummed lowly as his hand traced the cut-outs in your dress, leaning in to press his lips against your shoulder.

“Muy hermosa.. Dime dulzura, ¿te gusta bailar?”, he inquired, raking his fingers through your hair. (Very pretty.. Tell me sweetheart, do you like dancing?)

“En ocasiones”, you muttered, scanning the room for possible escape routes. (Sometimes.)

He stroked a thumb over your lips, grabbing a hold of your hand. “Vamos a bailar, entonces.” (Let’s go dancing then.)

Apparently both your partners had taken note of your absence, shooting you worried looks and glances as you returned to the actual party. You gave them both a subtle nod, assuring them you were okay and unharmed.

Back in the car Javier was a mess, having received a phone call from Chris, informing him you were taking into the building. He was about to go in himself when Chris called back, letting him know you’d come back, seemingly unscathed. It was what he said next that set Javier’s rage aflame, Rodriguez’ son was all over you. Feistl spared him no detail, describing how he had his hands all over you, mouth pressed to your neck occasionally.

“If anything so much as goes remotely wrong, if she looks scared, uncomfortable, whatever, you call me”, he growled into the phone. “And do not let her go into that building again.”

You felt disgusting, feeling the way his hands roamed over your body, squeezing at your breasts and bottom, not shy whatsoever. It was hard not to shove him off of you and beat his ass right then and there. You had to remind yourself it was for the greater good, trying to picture it was someone – anyone – else, to no avail. He swiftly spun you around, having you face him and he leaned in to press his wet mouth against yours. That was a bridge too far, even for you, and in a moment of pure disgust you shoved him off of you, slapping him right across the face. As soon as it happened you regretted it, clasping a hand over your own mouth, lifting it to mutter out a string of apologies.

“Puta”, he snarled, making all the heads around you turn in your direction.

You looked around you, trying to find someone, something to help you. He roughly tugged on the fabric of your dress, resulting in some of the cut-outs ripping even further. Luckily for you, you were in the middle of the crowd, meaning you wouldn’t get your brains blown out right then and there and as soon as David lifted his gaze to see all the partygoers stare at him, he let go of you. You seized the opportunity to disappear into the crowd, sprinting for the exit, with a heart thumping in your throat. Soon you heard the heavy thuds of someone else’s footsteps behind you, making you run even faster. Except that in these fucking heels, it was nearly impossible to make any decent distance whatsoever. One of them broke, sending you gliding over the asphalt, skin painfully dragging over the course ground. It was then you looked over your shoulder, expecting to get shot, only to be met with Javier’s brown eyes.

“Don’t say anything, just walk with me”, he instructed, helping you off the floor and wrapping an arm around you.

The adrenaline kept you on your feet, the pain not yet settled in. There was some blood running down your bare legs and forearms, a scared look etched on your face. He helped you into the car, taking off his jacket before putting it over your torso. When he was a good amount of blocks away he turned to look at you.

“I’m driving back to my place, can’t let them know where you live. We’ll take care of you there.”

He kept his eyes on the road, for fear that he might never look away again if he even so much glanced in your direction. He noticed your discomfort, the jackets strategically covering the new rips and tears in your skin tight dress. The urge to just pull over and hold you, comfort you, tell you – assure you that you’d be okay grew bigger by the second. And by the time he was parking the car, his hands were shaking, shaking with anxiety. You both hadn’t said a word and silences were uncharacteristic for you, hence the worry – or well, increase thereof.

The walk up to his apartment was painful, the adrenaline wearing off and the agony setting in. He noticed the way you pursed your lips with every step, carefully offering you his arm. You thanked him, holding onto his tan forearm. He managed a small smile, heartbeat skyrocketing as he noticed how gentle and warm your grip was.

As soon as you two were safely in the apartment with the door triple locked, he sat you down on the couch, disappearing into the bathroom to gather anything useful he could find. The bleeding had stopped by now, but it was a sight to behold. Your arms and legs were stained with blood and dirt, the cuts on your kneecaps stinging with the slightest movement.

He was tender and cautious, checking in if you so much as winced. The disinfectant stung like hell and had you biting the inside of your own cheek. You cursed the tears as they pricked in your eyes. You closed your eyes, flinching slightly when you felt a hand cupping your face.

“I’ll get you something to eat, to settle your stomach”, Javier whispered, slowly getting up.

You quickly grabbed a hold of the hand on your face, looking up at him with glossy eyes. “ P-please don’t leave.”

He felt his knees buckle the tiniest bit at that. You sounded so small, scared, insecure – so unlike yourself.

“I’m right here, you’re safe with me”, he ushered, taking both your hands in his as he knelt down once again. “Tell me what you need..”

“I-I want to get out of this dress, please”, you begged, tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes.

He gave half a smile, softly pressing his lips to your knuckles. “We can manage that, I can draw you a bath as well if you want.. I mean I assume you’d prefer to stay here tonight?”

You nodded slowly, sniffling a little as you went to stand. “Thank you Javi.”

After finally having convinced you that you could safely take a bath on your own and that he’d be waiting just outside in the kitchen you finally got undressed. You felt gross, borderline disgusting and wanted nothing more than to scrub the feelings of those hands off of your body. But no matter how many times you dragged the washcloth over your skin, the feeling seemed to linger and you felt the bile rising in your throat again. It had been too close of a call, you were lucky to even be alive tonight, sicarios usually not afraid to cause a scene.

Outside the door Javier was pacing, some frozen lasagne thrown in the oven. How could those two morons let you slip out of sight? Hadn’t he been clear in his instructions? Hadn’t he stressed how important it was for you to stay out in public? He’d have a go at them later, for now he just wanted to make sure you were okay. The muted sobs spilling from the bathroom didn’t help him either, wanting nothing more than to barge in to check up on you, but he was too afraid to overstep.

You eventually managed to muster up the courage, getting dressed in one of your boss’ shirts and a pair of his boxers, since they were the only thing he had that wouldn’t cover your knees, allowing the scrapes and cuts to air out. You’d have to see a doctor more than likely, the pain in your joints more present now that the initial shock was somewhat settled down. With gnashing teeth you walked out into the living room, Javier’s head immediately whipping around.

“I’ve got some food in the oven for later..”, he mumbled, gesturing towards the kitchen. “I made the bed as well, so you can just crash whenever you’d like.”

“Javi – thank you so much, I-I don’t know what I would’ve done without you there”, you managed to get out before your legs started shaking.

He immediately rushed over, scooping you up in his arms. “Let’s get you a seat, yeah?”

He softly sat you down on the couch, hissing as he accidentally grazed the angry red skin on your legs. “It’s okay – you didn’t hurt me”, you reassured him.

“I should’ve never let you go in there, it was a stupid fucking idea”, he chastised himself, rubbing the skin between his brows.

You sat up straight, putting a hesitant hand on his cheek. “Javier, you did what you thought was right. Everyone made it out and everyone’s safe, you called the right shots out there tonight.”

He looked into your eyes, sighing deeply, softly shaking his head. “Stop this.”

You gave a confused look, readjusting yourself, coming a bit closer in the process. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no. That’s just fucking it – you’re so perfect it hurts”, he murmured, briefly glancing down at your bottom lip.

That took you by surprise, making you chuckle a little. “What?”

“I don’t ever want to see you hurt like this again. I-I was so worried about you and fucking angry that I let you go in there all by yourself. It should’ve been me in there, or at least me by your side. I mean fuck – when I saw you stumbling out of there cariño – my heart nearly stopped”, he rambled once again taking a hold of your hands.

You were baffled at his words, confused at the sudden outing of care and worry. “Javi, I’m a DEA agent, this is what we’re here for.”

“Not to me”, he sighed, averting his eyes from your own. “You’re so special. So humble and kind- smart not to mention and… and so fucking gorgeous.”

It was practically impossible for your eyes to open even wider, the shock on your face more than obvious. “Javier, I-I don’t know what to say”, you admitted quietly.

He only now realised the impact of he what he’d been saying. Surely your boss coming onto you was the last thing you’d wanted, considering what you went through earlier on. “Fuck, shit – I didn’t mean to dump that on you, especially not like this I-“

“It’s okay”, you reassured him. “That lasagne should be done by now right?”

You knew fully well that the damn food was the last thing on your mind but you couldn’t help but overthink the entire situation. Surely your boss, one of the hottest men at the office, wouldn’t feel that way about you? Exactly, it had to have been the adrenaline of it all – or that bloody fucking dress. Whatever it was, you decided to repress that fluttery feeling in your gut and tried to remember what you were truly dealing with here: a boss looking out for his agents.

The rest of the night was spent in a comfortable silence. You decided to just go to bed already, your head spinning. What he’d told you wasn’t lost on you, in fact, it kept you up. You were laid on your back, staring up at the ceiling as you bit your lip. The range of emotions you were experiencing was overwhelming at it was hard to keep the waterworks contained at times.

Eventually, somewhere in the AM’s you managed to fall asleep. But even then you were plagued by your own mind. You felt those hands all over your body again and that slick, slobbery tongue on your neck. You punched him again, as you did before, but only now he pulled out a gun and shot you square in the chest. Clutching at that gushing wound, you sank to your knees, locking eyes with Javier. He rushed over holding you in his arms, shaking your lifeless form as your body went limp.

You sat upright immediately, arms flailing around you, knocking over the glass and clock that stood on the bedside table. The sounds of the shattering rung in your ears, pulling you back from your own head, making you aware of your surroundings. You were alive and more importantly you were safe. As the door swung open you let out a yelp, covering your face with your arms, still panting from your nightmare.

“Shit – are you okay?”, Javier asked, taking note of the broken glass next to the bed.

The familiar sound of his voice sent you over the edge and the tears that you’d been struggling to hold back all night finally got the upper hand over you. As you gasped for hair he quickly threw the nearest blanket atop the shards, deciding he’d deal with it later. He crawled into the bed and you practically threw yourself into his arms. He cradled you against his chest, closing his eyes as he felt you tremble all over.

“I’ve got you sweetheart, I’m right here”, he soothed you, intertwining the fingers on his free hand with your hair, slowly but surely grounding you.

There was something about the way his arms wrapped around you that made you feel safe. Something about the way your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck that made you feel like you were destined to end up here, in his bed, pressed up against him.

With tear-stained cheeks and glossy eyes you looked up at him, hands fisted in his threadbare t-shirt. “Did you mean it? What you said?”, you croaked out, voice pitchy with emotion.

“Every word”, he confirmed, softly swiping the tears away with his thumb.

You sat upright a bit more, leaning into him as did he until finally your lips bumped into one another’s. The both of you sighed, pulling away after only a few seconds, not looking for anything more in that moment.

“Please just hold me for tonight”, you whispered, resting your forehead against his.

He gently laid down, taking you with him. “I don’t think I’ll ever let go again.”

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Three: Beauty

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person’s relationship with his son. You’ve heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You’ve felt his pain and anguish and you’ve never been able to relate to anything more. But things don’t come easy for you, and they certainly don’t come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: 18+ description of male masturbation, descriptions of blood and injury, mention of childhood trauma as well as legal battle of custody over a child.

Word count: 5,200>

Masterlist

I Believe In Love Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Three - Next

Maxwell had to stifle back laughter from your comment. A hero? There wasn't a chance he was a hero. You didn't know what he had done. How he'd almost destroyed the entire planet without even realising. The guilt was eating him alive, it was all he could think about at any given second of silence. How could he have let himself become so power corrupt— to the extent he'd forgotten what really mattered? Alistair might have forgiven him, but there wasn't a chance the rest of the world would. It had only been a day and Maxwell didn't know how he could possibly live with himself.

"I need help." you announced, breaking the silence. Maxwell looked at you momentarily in curiosity but then looked away, sighing with discontentment.

"Look, whatever it is, I'm sure you don't want my help." Maxwell told you with a frown. You admired the deep shade of brown that was his eyes. It was so easy to get lost in them, they were hypnotic.

"You're the only person I know," you explained to the businessman sheepishly. "You and Alistair. And Raquel too, who is lovely, but I sense that she doesn't like me very much," Maxwell raised an eyebrow. You had wandered into Black Gold Cooperative wearing a crazy brown tunic, and you were covered in mud saying words like Themyscira, Hestia, hearth… jargon that not even Maxwell could understand. It didn't surprise him one bit if Raquel was a little put off by you. Until he learned the truth, he was borderline about to call you crazy and run ten mile. He believed you now. He had no reason not to. "I'm looking for someone." you told the man as you nervously bit your lower lip.

"Yeah, the thing is, I'm not going to be able to help you look for him, if that's what you're suggesting," Maxwell hummed. He wanted to get out of here. It wasn't your fault— you weren't doing anything wrong, but since seeing the lasso and remembering what had happened in the bunker just a day ago… a mixture of guilt, anger and hurt consumed him. "I have to go." Maxwell gasped feeling the desperate urge to get some air.

Of course, you chased after him. "I shouldn't really need any help finding him, I shouldn't really ask anyone for help either…" you mumbled, fumbling with your fingers as you shimmied through the revolving doors that led out of his office. "As the goddess of home and hearth, it would be my duty to see the man, and his child, myself."

"So you're looking for a man and his kid?" Maxwell asked, relishing the feeling of relief washing over him as the cool air hit his skin. He wasn't a smoker, he hadn't been since before he moved to the U.S., but in this moment of pure stress and anxiety, he had never craved a cigarette more. He turned to you for comfort. "I'm afraid ‘the world of man’ is full of those."

"That's what I was afraid of," you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "There's not a single man on Themyscira, we are all children of Zeus, sculpted in his image only,"

Every time you mentioned your homeland of Themyscira, or one of the Olympian Gods, Maxwell's curiosity piqued greatly. He had so many questions— so much he wanted to learn about you. He wondered if you'd even give him the time of day to answer them.

The delay in a response from Maxwell prompted you to speak up again. “As I was saying… I don't know anyone in D.C., I don’t have a place to stay… so I was wondering...”

Maxwell’s head snapped to face you, his eyes going comically wide. “I don’t know.” he said quickly and almost defensively. Yes your beauty was unimaginable and he had so much he wanted to ask you, but was now really the right time? What would happen once you learned about the terrible things he had done, how he was an awful father? And why did he care so much about what you thought of him when you were merely just a stranger? You looked down at your feet, your toes beginning to feel fuzzy as the evening grew colder. He couldn’t just let you stay out on the street, alone. Without any further prompting for you, he pulled out his car keys and tilted his head in gesture for you to follow him. Unlocking the car, he slid into the driver's seat as you waited outside. “Are you coming or not?” Maxwell huffed.

“What is this?” you asked after sliding into the passenger's seat. You were completely awe inspired by your surroundings.

“It’s a car,” Maxwell said hesitantly. “Wait, let me guess. You don’t have cars on Themascream, you have unicorns.”

“It’s Themyscira,” you corrected again, feeling only mildly irritated and wondering if he was deliberately just being that obnoxious. “And no, don’t be silly, unicorns don’t exist. We ride horses.” you sighed, shaking your head. Maxwell almost had to stifle back an incredulous laugh. Everything he once believed to be mythological was turning out to be true, he wouldn’t even be surprised if you had a license in Pegasus flight.

As he turned on the engine and began to reverse out of his parking space, you gasped, clutching onto the gear stick. The same gear stick that Maxwell was holding as he pushed the car into reverse. Your hand grazed his, and the skin on skin contact practically took Maxwell’s breath away. You grabbed onto his hand in fear as the car moved, and you stared out of the window. Of course, this was your first time in a car. Maxwell’s eyes flicked between the road, the frightened delight on your face and the way your soft hand enveloped his. He wanted to curse at the feeling of your touch and how it went straight to his manhood - this was the second time you had him feeling things he shouldn’t. Was there something in the air? It’s not like he wasn’t that touch starved. He shouldn’t have been reacting to you like this, but he was, and he didn’t know why. Swallowing the lump in his throat he gently removed his hand from yours and placed it back on the wheel. He wondered if the sexual tension was one side, if only he could feel it. He saw the innocence in your pretty eyes. You were just an oblivious girl trapped in a new world, seeking guidance from Maxwell, out of all people.

“Is this car… dangerous?” You asked nervously, the palm of your hand resting against the window.

“Not as dangerous as a horse,” Maxwell chuckled, taking his sunglasses out of the glove compartment and pushing them up the bridge of his nose. “I once knew a girl back home who fell off a horse and broke her leg. Couldn’t walk for a month. But, she deserved it.”

You gasped in horror at his statement, your eyes widening as your lips parted into a perfect ‘O’ shape. “How could she deserve it?” you asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“She wasn’t a nice person,” you watched as Maxwell’s face hardened at the memory.

You frowned but chose not to question him further. “So, you aren’t from here?”

“Wh- what makes you say that?” Maxwell asked, feeling a well of familiar anxiety.

“You said ‘back home’.” You acknowledged and Maxwell’s grip on the steering wheel tightened so hard his knuckles turned white. You were certainly right about that. You’d caught him out.

“Yeah uh, that’s just something we say over here. In the ‘world of man’.” Maxwell muttered, hoping you wouldn’t question him further. And thankfully, you didn’t.

“I think there’s a lot you can teach me about the world of man,” you smile pleasantly at the businessman who is doing his utmost to keep his concentration on the road ahead, rather than getting lost in your divine beauty. “Mr Lord?” You asked when he didn’t reply.

“You- you don’t have to call me Mr Lord,” Maxwell said awkwardly, turning at a junction.

“That is your name, isn’t it?” you quizzed.

“My name is Max Lord.” he was a little taken aback upon realising he hadn’t yet introduced himself to you. He’d just made the assumption you already knew exactly who he was, just like the rest of the world did. He’d come to think that maybe that wouldn’t be the case.

“Well then who is Mr?” “I’m Mr,” Maxwell furrowed his eyebrows. “Mr Max Lord.” “Why does Raquel call you Mr Lord?” you quizzed further, and Maxwell could feel an onsetting migraine. He actually hated talking about himself.

“She- because- I-” Maxwell stammered out, before shaking his head profusely. “Doesn’t matter okay? Just call me Max.”

“I’m sorry if I’m being annoying.” You admitted timidly after another silence. 

Max sighed. “You’re not annoying. Look, we’re almost home.”

The final five minutes of the journey were sat in complete silence. You spent most of the time looking out the window, trying to find clues and wondering how you were planning to find Lorenzano. There must be a way. You contemplated asking Maxwell for help, but you knew, as the daughter of Zeus and the goddess of home and hearth, it was your duty to find him and help him yourself. And that’s exactly what you were going to do. Of course, it was hard to ignore your mother’s word’s before you left Themyscira, regarding Romulus and Dolos. The God of Lies. You looked over at Maxwell who was staring dead ahead. You wondered if you could poke his brain about that… or even about the two dreamstones. Might he know something?

While you were thinking about your objective, Maxwell simply couldn’t stop thinking about you. Ashamed to admit it, but his cock was still semi hard and it was becoming difficult to ignore when he couldn’t help glancing at your reflection in the rear view mirror. He’d known you for barely an hour and he could already feel himself growing attached. Maybe it was the glitter in your eye or the way you spoke every word like it was your last. You had such joy and passion in your soul. Maxwell didn’t have any of that. All he had was his deep, dark secret as well as the anxiety and guilt which was eating him alive. There was something so perfect about you. Maxwell had sworn that nobody could be perfect, but he had also sworn that places like Themyscira, magical lassos and Gods and Goddesses weren’t real. He could be wrong about one more thing.

You followed Max as he slipped out of the car, and you found yourself absolutely astonished by his large D.C. home. Like everything else you had seen so far, it was beautiful. It seemed extensive in size, especially for just one man and possibly Alistair, but you refrained from making a comment. The exterior of the house was framed with beautiful greenery, tall trees, blooming bushes, and flowers that you only assumed could be native to the world of man. You knelt by a bush, admiring a red flower, as Maxwell fumbled with his keys to unlock the front door.

“What is this?” You asked, unpicking the flower from the bush.

“Be careful.” Maxwell gasped, his eyes widening when you hissed and saw blood trickle slowly down your finger. “It’s a rose, and they have thorns and if they prick you it’s gonna hurt like a bitch. Are you okay?” He grabbed your hand and pulled it to his face. You swiped your thumb over the wound, cutting off the bloodstream and healing yourself within seconds.

“I’m okay.” you confirmed, pulling your hand away from Maxwell’s. His vision crossed you in bewilderment.

“How did you?” He stammered, rubbing his eyes. “You just-”

When Maxwell saw you shiver from the cold, he ushered you inside his home and shut the front door behind him. He walked behind you, taking in your every step as you looked around his home. You admired all the little things, like the oil paintings that were hung upon the cream coloured walls and the ornaments scattered around on every surface. He supposed he could tell you to make yourself at home, but as you bent over and let your fingers grace the softness of the living room carpet, he figured maybe you already had. You stood up again, taking a deep breath before turning to face Maxwell.

“Us Amazons aren’t like humans,” you began, your eyes still scattering around his spacious living room. The sofa, although not as big as the one in the lobby of Black Gold Cooperative, was still extensive in size and made from the same plush velvet, this time in a coppery colour. It seemed he had a television too, which just so happened to be the biggest one you had seen yet. He had so much stuff, but his home was so big it still felt kind of empty. You found the mismatched patterns and colours endearing and you wondered if he had decorated himself.

“I’ll say,” Maxwell mumbled, walking over to the mini bar in the corner of the living room and pouring out a glass of whiskey. “Can I get you anything?” Max offered.

“No thank you,” you hummed, looking at all the paintings on the walls. “We’re immortal.”

“Immor- so you mean, you can’t die?” Maxwell looked at you dumbfounded.

“Immortal not invincible,” you laughed, and Maxwell felt his cheeks heat up slightly. There was no reason for him to feel embarrassed, this was all extremely new to him, and yet, he didn’t want you to think any less of him. He wanted you to believe he was smart and knowledgeable. “We don’t age. We’ve lived on Themyscira for centuries. We have enhanced strength, coordination, agility, stamina…” Max listened intently as you educated him about your kind. “If the injury isn’t too bad… I can heal.” you explained nonchalantly but then frowned.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, putting his glass of whiskey down on the grand piano and walking over to you.

“My powers aren’t as refined as the other Amazonians,” you said weakly. You had been so used to being made feel inadequate by the warriors around you. They'd judge you and call you for being the goddess of home and hearth— telling you your powers were pointless and would never lead to greatness. Maybe not their greatness, but you had truly found your calling and maybe this time, just for once, things could be different. With a sudden bolt of confidence, you felt Maxwell take your hands. You looked up at him with a doe-eyed expression. "Are you judging me?" you couldn't help but ask him. It wouldn't surprise you. Everyone else judged you.

"No," Maxwell replied almost breathlessly. He was too lost in your eyes, too enamoured with every word you spoke. "I think you're… sensational."

And with that, your lips curved into a small smile. He was so entranced by your beauty. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to lean in and kiss you. He tried to shake away the feeling, like it wasn't all he'd imagined since the moment he laid his eyes on you. It was wrong of him. Besides you had only just met, and once again, he was swarmed with guilt. If you found out about what he'd done, you'd want nothing to do with him— nobody would— he was certain of it. It was only a matter of time before even Alistair walked out for him. Alistair. That's when Maxwell remembered the letter Theodore had given him, which was sitting on the kitchen cabinet.

"Zeus brought me to D.C, he will bring me to the man from my dreams. And with the lasso of Hestia to aid me, it shouldn't take me long at all," you told Max. "I'll be out of your hair in no time."

Maxwell wanted to tell you to stay. He didn't want you to hurry. He'd come incredibly lonely over the years and he was really beginning to value your company.

"Zeus is your father… right?" Maxwell asked, trying to recall the way you spoke about him earlier.

"Yes."

"What's he like?" Maxwell prodded further with genuine furiosity.

"Oh, I've never met him," you replied, rubbing  your eyes.

So he's a deadbeat— Maxwell thought. Max knew exactly how that felt. "But he's king of the Olympian Gods, the ruler of the skies. He crafted us all in his own image and gave us a purpose."

"And your purpose is to find this man?" Maxwell quirked an eyebrow.

You nodded in affirmation. "It may seem simple and unimportant, but I assure you, it isn't. This man is special. He's unlike any other man and Zeus will bring me to him for a reason. Before I left, my mother Hestia told me of two Gods, Romulus and Dolos… they were the God of Lies,"

Maxwell's eyes widened. He had heard of them, very little, but he'd heard their names through researching the dreamstone. "They were deceiving and created a darkness amongst the world. They harnessed the power of wish-granting and were responsible for death and destruction… the world of man had to be rebuilt from scratch." you explained, a horrified look on your face as you recalled the events that your mother, Hestia had educated on.

For Maxwell, this was hitting far too hard. Things weren't adding up but he did deem it to be more than a mere coincidence that you had shown up just a day after the world had gone to hell. He didn't understand— he couldn't fathom the connection he had to you, or that laying on his sofa was a beautiful Amazonian goddess. He hoped that he could figure it out soon enough, but for now, he had his own troubles. He has to focus on fixing things with Alistair.

"I'm tired," you announced with a yawn, breaking Maxwell out of his thoughts. You raised your hand and cupped Maxwell's cheek, mirroring his own actions to you back at the office. "Your home is beautiful." you whispered lovingly.

You found the crinkles in the corner of his eyes so handsome, and you even pondered if the perfect curve in his nose had been sculpted by Zeus too. He wasn't like the Themysciran depictions of 'man', he was worn and slightly miserable, but there was no denying the connection you felt to him. For a second, you wondered if he was your reason. If he was your purpose. You'd grown so attached to him in just a matter of hours, you'd even grown attached to Alistair without even realising. Alistair was the first person you had met upon waking up in the world of man. But there was no way, you were looking for Lorenzano. Lorenzano…

You slipped your hand away from Max and sat on the soft couch, relishing the same feeling you loved so much back in the office. You took off your tiara, placing it on the coffee table, and unbuckled your sandals. You went to remove your tunic and skirt, but were cut off by a yelp from Max as he diverted his eyes.

"What- what are you doing?" Maxwell gasped, looking away.

"I'm undressing," you replied simply. "Amazonian clothes are so uncomfortable to sleep in."

"I- I'm sure," Maxwell nodded his head, feeling himself become flustered. "But uh- you can't just- I mean, I don't know what it's like in the Themy place-"

"Themyscira." you deadpanned.

"-Right, well I just think. You know. Maybe don't get naked, right now. Not yet anyway," Maxwell wanted to curse out loud. Not yet anyway? What was he saying? "Let me find something for you to sleep in okay? Something comfortable."

"You don't sleep naked?" you asked, tilting your head and readjusting your skirt so you were covered up again. Maxwell turned back to you.

"I- I do, sometimes." Shit, Max was definitely blushing.

"So why can't I sleep naked?" you shrugged your shoulders.

"I just… don't want you to be uncomfortable." Max trailed off.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" you questioned further.

No, it didn't, but the thought of you laying naked on his couch went straight to his cock. "Let me get you a shirt." he said, avoiding your question.

While he was gone, you turned to the small side table to the left of the sofa. There, in a small frame, was a man who, although younger, was very clearly Max. He was sitting in a chair, smiling holding a newborn baby in his arms. You picked up the photo and analysed it, admiring every part. You guessed the baby was Alistair. It was hard to see the child's face, being that the photograph had aged and was slightly blurry. It dated ’1978 in the corner. Six years ago. That would make Alistair only six years old. 

Maxwell was back in no time with a folded pinstripe button down. You took it and muttered a thank you before going to undress yourself again. Seeing this, Maxwell turned back around and figured he could grab you some soft blankets from the guest bedroom. When he returned, you were already sleeping peacefully on the sofa, wearing his shirt.

Maxwell thought he could've spent hours just watching you sleep. You were so peaceful. He watched as the way your chest rose and fell with every shallow breath, he admired your little snores and the way you stirred slightly now and  again. He'd never been so entranced with anyone in his entire life. Not even Julianna.

And shit— he was still semi-hard. He was going to shower, he'd decided. He'd shower away all these feelings, all this anxiety and he was going to be okay. He'd wash his hair, brush his teeth— he'd make an effort. He couldn't keep sulking around. He had to try for his son.

Maxwell gasped as he stepped in the shower. His hunched up shoulders became relaxed and he was able to unclench his fists as he let the hot water envelop his body. His eyes fluttered closed as the image of you scattered his thoughts. He tried to shrug it off, but he couldn't. Just knowing you were laying on his sofa in one of his dress shirts stirred something primal within him. He dropped his hand down to his cock and began to jerk himself off, his fingers rubbing against the small slit in his tip as he wiped the precum down his length. The hot water felt so good, and Max had forgotten to open a window so the steam from the shower made the air foggy and moist.

He dragged his fist down his throbbing length, his movements becoming fast and erratic as he squeezed his eyes tight shut, trying to hold out moans. He couldn't let you hear. He couldn't let you know. He hadn't done this in so long. He'd always had his assistants at his beck and call, he never needed to relieve himself in the shower since his and Julianna's marriage broke down.

You consumed his every thought. He imagined your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, he imagined you giving him sweet kitten licks as you massaged his balls. He imagined you gagging around him as you took his long, thick length to the back of your throat. He imagined fucking your mouth. The thought of him being able to get a literal goddess to choke and whimper really urged his power complex enough to throw him over the edge. In only a matter of minutes, Maxwell spilled his milky white seed over the tiled bathroom walls, gasping your name as he came.

And when it was over, he felt a familiar remorse. A familiar guilt. He knew he did not deserve you.

Maxwell had to force himself to get washed, using his apple scented shampoo and even conditioning his hair. He was satisfied with his minty fresh breath as he walked into his bedroom in only a towel that was wrapped loosely around his waist. Since it was approaching night, and fast, he picked out a pair of light grey sweats and a wooly sweater before combing through his unnatural dark blonde hair which just so happened to be naturally wavy.

He sighed, padding into the kitchen quietly being careful not to wake you. He knew what he had to do next, what he'd been putting off since he received the damn letter. The envelope was staring at him on the cabinet. He picked it up, an anger engulfing him as he read the name ‘Maxwell Lorenzano’ on the paper. He ripped it open furiously and opened up the letter.

Dear Maxwell Lorenzano

I, Theodore Thomas IV, attorney of Miss Julianna Grey, present you with a civil lawsuit case regarding full custody of Alistair Lorenzano in favour of my client, Miss Grey.

-—- please see proceedings below -—-

I, Theodore Thomas IV, share a bond with Miss Grey and recognise that she is a caring and devoted mother. We are in full belief that Alistair Lorenzano would be better off, in the care of his biological mother.

Mr Maxwell Lorenzano and Miss Julianna Grey divorced on the seventh month of 1980 after being married for two years. Miss Grey notes that their relationship was strained since the beginning, with Mr Lorenzano too preoccupied with his career to focus on his family.

I have known Miss Grey since 1980, after working on her and Mr Lorenzano's divorce case. As not only her partner, but also a trusted lawyer of our capitol’s legal enforcement, I can whole-heartedly ensure that sole custody of Alistair Lorenzano must be granted to Miss Julianna Grey.

-—- proceedings concurred -—-

Please find us at the District Columbia Court, D.C., in one week from the date stated on the letter. If you make no effort to show and fight your case, you will be banished from seeing Alistair until he turns eighteen years of age.

Sincerely,

Ted

Maxwell screamed as his face turned bright red with astonishing rage. He crumpled up the letter into a ball, throwing across the kitchen. Tears fell from his eyes in complete and utter disbelief. No, this was the worst thing that could ever happen to Maxwell. He'd rather die than not be able to see Alistair. His heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces. 

It was ridiculous and down right unfair. Max began to laugh manic as he swept the plates and glasses that were standing by the sink into the floor. He'd forgotten about you, sleeping in the other room. He didn't care. He was done being considerate.

Maxwell had made a lot of mistakes in his life— a lot, but he loved Alistair so much and Alistair loved him. He couldn't let Julianna and her stupid lawyer boyfriend rip him away from his son. If that happened, he'd be no better than his own father. Maxwell let out another scream of frustration, clenching his fist until his knuckles were white. This was nobody's fault but his own. He was too much like his own dad— too much like his own fucking deadbeat, abusive dad. Max had tried his whole life to make Alistair proud, to be different, a good different. But he wasn't a Lord, he was a Lorenzano, and maybe blood was thicker than water. He was nothing but a low life conman who had almost singlehandedly destroyed the entire world and now, he was about to lose his son.

How was he ever going to win this case? Julianna literally had one of the best family lawyers in the state on her side, and Maxwell wasn't even sure if he could afford a lawyer given the circumstances. What he had failed to think about, was the fact he had a literal goddess sleeping on his sofa. A goddess who’s purpose was to reconcile families.

A shatter of broken glass awoke you from your nap. You rubbed your eyes tiredly, lifting up onto your elbows before hearing a thud and a crash. Alerted, your eyes snapped open and you swung your body out of the big warm bed, bolting into the kitchen where you had heard the noise. Fragments of a broken vase were scattered over the tile floor, soil spilled everywhere and some daffodils that looked like they had been dead for at least a month already. The sound of gushing water drew your attention to Maxwell, who was standing at the sink. Stepping over the broken glass, you padded over to him and placed a hand into the small of his back. He jumped slightly at your touch. You peered over his shoulder and saw a really deep cut in his hand, blood dripping into the sink. Not even the water coming from the faucet was enough to wash it away. It trickled down his arm and you looked up at him, noticing he was pale in colour.

“Are you okay?” you asked him, your voice smaller than it intended to be. Your gaze trailed along the kitchen surface tops until you spotted a roll of kitchen paper. Taking plenty, you ripped it and gently wrapped your fingers around Max’s wrist, maneuvering his still bleeding hand away from the sink. A few drops of blood fell to the tiled floor, but you quickly wrapped the paper around his wound and applied pressure. “That looks really deep.” you hummed, looking up at your friend with concern.

“It’ll be fine.” Maxwell mumbled, watching you intently as you cared for his injury. It was a strange feeling. No one had ever looked out for him the way you did, and you’d only known him for a few hours. Your soft was gentle, he even noticed the way you subconsciously began to rub comforting circles into his skin, like it was just natural for you.

You frowned, slowly lifting up the soaked tissue paper and discarding it in the waste bin. The bleeding had settled down, but it still looked incredibly sore. Dampening another paper towel, you tried to clean around the edges of his cut. He hissed in pain as your finger accidentally grazed over the wound and you shot him an apologetic look. Maxwell was like putty in your hands. He let you do whatever you needed to - and he absolutely wasn’t like that with anyone else. “You might need stitches,” you sighed, taking a closer look. “If only we were on Themyscira, I have a friend who could heal you in a matter of seconds.” Themyscira - there it was again, the mystical place Maxwell had never even heard of. “What happened?” you asked eventually, your gaze meeting Maxwell’s.

“Uhm-” his eyes flicked around the room, searching for something that would fuel the white lie. "Was changing the flowers and dropped the vase."

His lie didn't account for the broken glasses and plates that were also on the floor. You looked at him in bewilderment, knowing he wasn't being entirely truthful to you. He couldn't stay. He couldn't stay with you right now. He had to go see Alistair. "I- I gotta go." Maxwell said quickly before bolting out the house.

He left you standing alone in the kitchen amongst all the mess. As you began to pick up the pieces of the broken vase, you noticed the scrumpled up ball of paper in the corner. Picking it up, you slowly unravelled it in hope it would give you a clue regarding Maxwell's behaviour.

Your heart practically sank when you read the first three words.

Dear Maxwell Lorenzano,

Lorenzano. He was Lorenzano.

-----

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[chanelsebbie]

𝗪𝗵𝘆 𝗗𝗼 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗛𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗠𝗲? | 𝗽.𝗽.

➵warnings: Substance use, language, Endgame spoilers, angst. 

➵masterlist

➵summary: Peter just wants to know why you hate him. 

➵a/n: Hee hee, I’m still trying to break in my new blog so feel free to send in requests and follow or reblog :)  ((THIS IS A STARK!READER FIC))

You never really liked Peter Parker. 

But you didn’t hate him. You couldn’t. Everyone on the Avengers team tolerated him, and some even liked him. And he was talented at what he did. But you still couldn’t bring yourself to like him. 

After the events of Thanos, you were finally brought back, and so was Peter. And Tony was happier than ever to get you home, and in his arms again. You went in and kicked ass. And the good guys won. 

But at the cost of your father’s life. 

Now that he was gone, everyone is asking who the next Ironman would be. You would think people would have been gunning on you, his own daughter, but instead, everybody looked to the boy no older than yourself. 

And jealousy raged through you, feeling put off to the side, along with trying to grieve and mourn your fathers death, all while trying to keep the world at peace. And with the Captain in retirement, along with Natasha gone, that left the team struggling to stay together. Some of the strongest members were gone, and Thor was still trying to lose that weight. 

So it all fell down to you. And sadly, also Peter. You were struggling to finish your studies in high school, as was Peter, the both of you attending the same school. While Peter had all sorts of friends, you preferred to be alone, and get through school, so you could take on more missions and important callings. 

Just like today. But today was going to be slightly different. 

“Come on, y/n, it’s just one party! It won’t kill you,” he protested as you walked into the common area of the Avengers headquarters. 

“Yes it will,” you grunted, plopping down on the couch and telling F.R.I.D.A.Y. to turn the TV on.”

“No- F.R.I.D.A.Y., turn the TV off- It’s a big party and I know you’ll have fun! Flash is throwing it but I know you can still enjoy it,”

That made you not want to go even more. Flash was arrogant, snooty, and always took your detesting glares as playing hard to get. All you knew is that he didn’t like the word ‘no’, which set up multiple red flags for you. 

“No. I said no.” you huffed, taking the remote this time and turning the TV back on, flipping through the channels was Peter let out a defeated sigh, sitting right next to you, pulling out his phone. 

But secretly, Peter didn’t want to leave the living room. And even if he was on his phone, he just wanted to be near you. 

◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

“Come ooonnn, y/n, please??” Peter begged over the phone, pleading with you as he tried to get you to come to the stupid party that he was already at. 

The loud music could be heard in the background, along with some masculine cheering, which you were sure was the captain of the football team. 

“Peter, no, I’m already in bed,” lie “and I’m in the middle of a book. I’ll see you when you get back to the compound,” you tried to negotiate with a clip to your voice, and the truth was you were at the compound, sitting on the couch in a pair of fuzzy socks and you really didn’t wanna get up. 

“Fine. Yeah. Fine, have fun at home, square.” he dramatically replied, obviously also not a fan of the word no.

You hated when he did that, when he tried to guilt trip you, because no matter how cheesy it was, he almost always succeeded in making you feel like shit. 

“Good night, Peter,”

And with that, you hung up. 

◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

You found yourself dozing off to the sound of the movie playing on the screen, the large blanket covering you making you never want to leave for the rest of your life. 

But your blissful state was halted by the sound of your phone ringing, making your eyes shoot open and lazily grabbing your cellular device and mindlessly pressing the answer button without looking at the contact name before letting out a groggy “Hello?”

“Y/n!!! Heeeyyyyy,” Peter’s loopy voice sounded off, and if you weren’t full awake already, you certainly were now. 

“Peter??” you scolded, “Are you...?”

“Having the time of my life?? Abbssolutelyyy!!” 

“Shhhhh, just-” you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying not to panic, “Where are you?”

“At the party you were too scared to come to,” he chastised, making you let out a silent sigh in annoyance. 

“Just stay there, okay, I’m coming,” you finally spoke, flipping the blanket off of yourself and getting up with get some real clothes on.

“I like it when you say you’re comi-”

And with that, you hung up the phone. 

◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

If there was one thing that your father had good taste in, it was his automobiles. He had many he took pride in. Especially the red ones. And if anything, the memory of your father might keep you sane. 

You punched in the address for Flash’s house, and even brought a pair of your father’s glasses, the only two E.D.I.T.Hs left. Ever. 

The drive there was speedy, and when you pulled into the driveway, your stomach dropped. A flood of teenagers crowded the house, and that was just the outside. You couldn’t imagine trying to find Peter in that mess. 

“E.D.I.T.H., find Peter for me, will you?” you spoke to your glasses. 

“Of course,” the voice responded, pausing a moment before continuing, “He’s in the living room. His alcohol levels are high.”

You groaned. You should’ve known, you shouldn’t have let him go out on his own to a party with Flash, that prick has alcohol up the ying-yang thanks to daddy’s money, shit-

Standing up out of the car, you slam the door, glasses still on, “E.D.I.T.H., show me Parker’s vitals, please,” you continued to storm towards the front door and making your way in. 

“His heartbeat is quick and his blood pressure is high, and as I said before, his alcohol levels are irrate.”

“Peter??” you called out, watching as his head popped up like a weasel’s, eyes bright as he recognized you. 

“[y/n]!!” He gasped, running over to you before wrapping his arms around you, “You came! I knew you would!”

“Yeah,” you pulled him off of you, “I came to get you. You’re drunk, Parker, we’re going home.”

“Aww, come on,” he pushed before hanging on you. 

“Peter. No. Come on, let’s go,” you pushed him off again, obviously more annoyed than before. You hated the way people were starting to look at you. 

“[y/n]! Please, don’t push me away again! Just let loose and have fun,”

Your anger brewed. And this was supposed to be the next Ironman. 

“Peter.” you scolded in the most dominant voice you could muster, making a few people around the two of you look their way, “We. Are going. Home.”

Without another word, you grabbed his hand and dragged him out, Peter protesting like a toddler, trying to pull back, but he was so drunk, he seemed weak, and unable to truly fight back. 

You reached the car, opening the door for him as he sat down, folding his arms and glaring at you as you got into the car, starting it and pulling out of the driveway and back to Queens, where hopefully you could get Peter out of trouble. 

A few good 3 minutes passed, (it felt longer thanks to Peter’s glare), and you finally spoke up. 

“Are you done staring at me like a child?” you breathed like a disappointed parent. Which was worse, acting like a mother or a child?

“I’m waiting for an apology. When I sober up, the guyyss are never going to leave alone about what you did to be back there.” he grumbled, obviously going to hold his grudge. 

“I don’t have to apologize for anything,” you gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, trying to suppress your thoughts that made you quick to anger. 

“Like hell-”

“I wasn’t the one breaking the law and underage drinking,” you growled back.

“I can’t wait till I sober up so I can show you what for. That was mortifying. You’re embarrassing.”

Out of everything you’ve been called, embarrassing was never something you were dubbed. 

Peter paused and held his breath, realizing he was blowing it with you, “Wait, [y/n], I’m sorry, I’m just-”

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, trying to keep tears from welling up in your eyes. 

“No, it can’t be, because I read somewhere that if a woman says she’s fine, she’s really not actually fine, and-”

“Peter! Just shut up, please!!” you scolded, trying not to sob, just wanting this night to go away. 

Soon after you hit a red light, and Peter just stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched, trying to think of something to say. Something to do. Anything at all to try and fix it. But thanks to the alcohol limiting the filter between his brain and his mouth, the next thing that came out of his mouth was:

“Why do you hate me?”

Your world seemed to stop for a second as you tried to compose yourself. This was the last thing you wanted him to think, no matter how vulnerable he made you feel. 

“I don’t hate you, Peter...,”

“Then what is it? Why do you push me away? Can you see that I like you? Like really really like you?”

You swallowed hard at his words. You closed your eyes and swallowed, “Peter, I don’t know what to tell you-”

“Then tell me something, please, anything-”

“I love you, Peter-” your outburst made him wince as he tried to focus and piece together your words in his drunken state, “I love you, Peter. And whenever I look at you... I see him, and I just...,” you took a deep breath to prevent the tears welling in your eyes, making you seem weak in your opinion, “I’m supposed to be the next Ironman, but the press says differently. I’m jealous of you Peter,” you shook in embarrassment as you pressed down on the gas, your cloudy vision making you swerve to stay on the road so you didn’t crash a priceless car. 

“You love me?”

“Y-yeah, I mean, I guess, I wouldn’t...,” you paused, “You aren’t going to remember this in the morning anyway,”

“No. I’m not gonna forget this. Not even if I tried,” he laughed humorlessly, leaning back in his seat. 

“Well... I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” you thought out loud, wanting to take your rant and stuff it back down your throat. 

You didn’t mean for him to find out. Not like this at least. 

◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

When you two got back to the compound, he gipped onto you like a kid, clinging to you and refusing to let go. At this point there was a mutual understanding between the two of you. That both of you had feelings, but it wouldn’t be discussed until the morning. 

The elevator ride made Peter look sick, the alcohol finally starting to catch up to him, and right as the doors opened, he ran inside, finding the closest bathroom. 

That poor toilet. 

You caught up to him and sat next to a sickly Peter, rubbing his back as he let everything out. He held you the best he could, not wanting you to leave his side. 

You brushed the hair away from his forehead as he leaned over the side of the toilet, groaning in discomfort as he continued to cling to you like you would slip away. After a few more times of the repeated pattern of ejecting bile, he turned to you.

“I’m tired,” he mumbled like a child. 

“Come on, Spidey, let’s get you to bed,” you gave a small smile, picking him up as you dragged him out of the bathroom and into a guest bedroom, getting him an extra shirt and sweatpants from the closet before turning around while he got changed. 

But a wrapping of arms around your waist told you he was done. You waddled him over to the bedside before sitting him down and getting him off your back. He was like a damn koala. 

You finally laid him down, pulling the covers over him snuggly, not failing to notice the longing stare coming from Peter. You gave a smile, and he smiled back. It made your heart flutter in spite of yourself. 

You shook yourself out of it, the only thing on your mind now was getting to sleep, trying to forget the conversation that was supposed to be had the next morning. 

“Goodnight, Peter.” you began to walk away, but before you could get too far away from the bed, you felt someone grab your hand. 

“Please stay,” he begged, unspilled tears in his eyes, the fear of you leaving his side the greatest concern on his mind. 

You paused. You were about to go to sleep with Peter Parker, and yet your hesitation was the only thing that was stopping you from what you had wished you had been doing for as long as you had known the boy. 

Despite the voice screaming in the back of your head to put the wall back up and your foot down, say no, and leave, your body opposed, slipping under the covers with the sniffling teenager. 

He immediately smiled and embraced you, and you knew that you would have to get used to the physical contact. He was behind you, his arms around your waist, his breath gently fanning over the nape of your neck. 

You covered the both of you up, Peter sighing. And as much as you hated to admit it, he looked adorable. 

“Parker, if you barf in my hair, you aren’t gonna wake up with eyebrows,” you were half-joking, half-serious. 

“Will do.” he laughed sluggishly, sniffling before you finally felt his breaths steady and slow, passed out with you in his arms. 

You never really liked Peter Parker. 

You loved him.

[cellophanejpeg]

start over

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

summary: Javier drops a bomb on your lap just before you leave Colombia.

request:  #17 “I think I’m in love with you.”

a/n: HUGE thanks to @murdermewithbooks​ for beta reading this! she’s my life savior 🥺

warnings: angst, vague mentions of sex, sad smooches

word count: 2.6k

masterlist

The spot on the ceiling seems interesting as you catch your breath, lying down on the soft mattress; your body’s still hot and sticky with sweat, your heart’s still beating like a hammer inside your chest. You feel him shift on the bed until he’s up, putting his pants on without even showering, and immediately grabbing a cigarette to light it. The bottle of whiskey clinks with the glass and you take it as your cue. Ignoring the way his skin looks like gold in the dim lights of his bedroom, you get off the bed and start dressing up to leave.

“That bad, huh?” His voice reaches your ears and your stomach churns with a pleasing sensation. You choose to ignore it too, keeping your back turned to him.

“You know it wasn’t,” you say, throwing your blouse over your head. “But I know you don’t like it when I stay too long.”

A pause hangs in the air and you assume he’s looking at you.

“I never said that.”

“Maybe not with your words.” You decide to glance at him over your shoulder, regretting immediately. He's sitting on the bed, looking at you over his shoulder with a look in his eyes. It’s something you can't quite tell. Is it surprise? Regret maybe? You decide you won't think about it too much, looking away from his back, glistening with sweat as you button your jeans and let out a sigh.

This is going to be harder than you thought.

"You know you can stay–" He starts, but you cut him off.

"I can't." A lie. You know it, he knows it. You could stay over, but that would lead to uncharted territory and unlock feelings you don't want to face.

"Same time next week, then?"

Ever since you started sleeping with Javier, you knew it was going to lead nowhere. On your first day at the Embassy, several women told you to stay away from him, to not fall to his charms, that he had a reputation. So, you knew what you were getting into. You just didn't expect your feelings to get in the way. The thought of having feelings for Javier Peña makes you embarrassed of yourself. Javier, who sleeps with pretty much every intern, informant and prostitute in this city.

"I can't," You finally answer him, turning to face him. “I’m going home.”

He stands from the bed to look at you and doesn’t seem to catch on to what you said, frowning lightly and tilting his head. “What do you mean?”

You sigh. “I’m going back home.”

A silent pause hangs in the air as you wait for the penny to drop. Your time as a public relations intern at the United States Embassy is over and you have to go back home. After a year, you’re going to leave Colombia behind and go back to your normal life. You’re going to leave him behind. Him and everything you’ve been through together.

You don’t want to think about it.

Javier raises his eyebrows, inhaling slowly as his mouth falls.This is why you didn’t tell him until now, the look on his face is too much for you. Feeling your heart clench and bleed, you grab your shoes and sit on the bed again to put them on. With your back to him again, it’s easier to breathe.

“When?” He asks quietly.

“Sunday.” Your voice cracks and you clear your throat, swallowing hard. “Tomorrow is my last day at the Embassy.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He sits on the bed beside you. The mattress dips and you inhale deeply, the scent of his skin invading your nostrils. You finally look at him with glossy eyes and shrug.

“Didn’t realize I had to.” Your voice is a whisper, melancholy plastered in it.

“Mariposa–”

“I have to go.” You interrupt him again, standing up abruptly and heading to the door.

Javier tells you to wait, but you don’t stop until he touches your arm gently. You look at him and he’s already wearing a shirt and putting on his shoes.

“Let me take you home,” He says.

“I can get a cab.” You argue.

“It’s late.” Javier insists.

A line forms between your brows as he takes your hand and leads you out of his apartment, to his car. Your heart skips a beat as you realize he still holds your hand as he opens the door for you. The drive to your apartment complex is silent, the tension growing as the silence stretches. You wonder what is going on in his mind, why he is so quiet and, every time you look at him he has this look in his eyes, like he’s thinking deeply. When he stops in your driveway, you thank him and move to open the door but he tells you to wait again.

“I have to tell you something,” He says, gripping the steering wheel hard until his knuckles turn white.

“Okay.” You look curiously at him.

Javier lets out a breath and looks in your eyes. “Mariposa,”

“Yes?”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes wide and your breath quickens. Holy shit, this is not happening. Javier Peña. In love. With you? A mere intern, young and naive. Every feeling you’ve been hiding for a year rises to the surface, and you start to panic. It’s real, your feelings are reciprocated and he loves you. Your eyes fill with tears and you look away, unaware that Javier’s are also misty.

“I-I have to go.”

You hear him call your name as you run to enter the complex. The tears are streaming down your cheeks by the time you enter your apartment and you try to breathe, try to stop them, but you can’t.

Why now? Why did he decide to tell you this now? Now, that you’re leaving and probably will never see him again. Now that you finally accepted you’d never be together, that your relationship with him would never leave the sheets. It’s so unfair. He had a year. A whole year to tell you and he didn’t.

That night, you cry yourself to sleep, thinking of him.

…

The last day at the Embassy was not as hard as you thought it’d be. You didn’t catch a single glimpse of Javier and you’re not sure l if it made you feel better or worse. Part of you wanted to see him one last time, while the other part didn’t want to make things more complicated. Maybe it’s for the best, it would be too painful to see him before you go.

You spent one last day of filling in reports and working, with your heart clenched, but happy. Some coworkers had given you gifts and said their goodbyes and you were glad they took your mind off Javier for a while. But it didn’t last long.

As you walk to your car to leave, the sun setting and the air getting chilly, you hear his voice. He’s waiting for you, leaning against his car with a cigarette between his fingers, his aviators stuck on the bridge of his nose. Your stomach drops and you inhale sharply when you see him.

“Hi,” You say quietly, giving him a small smile.

“Hi.” He smiles back.

Shit. You have to look away, swallowing hard and trying to hold back tears.

“How was your day?” He removes his sunglasses and puts them in the pocket of his shirt and approaches you, flicking the cigarette from his hand.

“Good.” You nod. “Yours?”

Javier nods too and you both stand in silence for a moment. You look at him and take in his appearance one last time, observing the lines of expression on his face, the bags under his eyes, the hook of his nose. The pout of lips. Your eyes linger there for a moment and you have to force yourself to look away.

“I’m sorry about last night.” He starts, quietly. “But I mean it. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Tilting your head, you nod. “It’s unfair. You could’ve told me before. Why now?”

“Because I never realized until now.”

The tears stream down your cheeks as he gently takes your hand. Javier leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away, to tell him to stop. But you’re the one who closes the gap between the both of you, pressing your lips against his. His mustache tickles your top lip for the last time. His nose bumps into yours for the last time.

You kiss him for the last time.

“I love you too,” You mumble in his mouth, snaking your hands along his chest, until they reach the back of his neck.

Javier deepens the kiss, resting his palms on your hips and backing you to your car, pressing his body against yours as your back presses against the car. He pulls away all of a sudden, resting his forehead against yours to catch his breath. You tangle your fingers in his hair, playing with the soft curls there.

“Maybe–” You breathe, closing your eyes. “Maybe when you’re done here, if– If you don’t change your mind, you could– We could– Start over.”

You don’t have to finish the sentence. He nods slowly as you take his sunglasses from his pocket.

“Souvenir?” You smile at him.

Javi laughs and nods. Sighing, you watch him pull away from you.

“Goodbye, Javier.” Your voice cracks, laced with sadness.

“Goodbye, Mariposa.”

He watches as you enter the car and start it. His heart clenches as you smile at him one last time, watching you back the car away. A wave of your hand. A wave of his.

And you’re gone.

…

The bar is crowded as you sit down at a table with your friends. Nursing a cold bottle of beer, you talk and laugh with them through the loud sound of chatting and music.

It’s been four years since you’ve left Colombia. Four years since you left Javi.

It was hard at first. You missed him terribly. But then, it got easier. You made new friends, learned to move on. Met a couple of people, hooked up with a few of them, knowing nothing would ever be like it was with Javier. He’ll always have a special place in your heart. Even now, after four years of not seeing each other, not speaking to each other, you’d still think about him from time to time. It’s weird, you don’t feel trapped to him, you don’t feel bad anymore. It’s a nice feeling, one that makes you warm inside, even though you’re not with him anymore.

“Hey, so,” One of your friends tells you, as you sip your beer. “Don’t look now, but there’s a guy who’s been staring at you ever since we sat down.”

“What?” You frown at her. “Where?”

“Over there.” She nods towards the man and you follow her look, looking over your shoulder.

Your breath gets caught in your throat.

Javier Peña is nursing a glass of whiskey at the bar, sitting alone. He’s got his back curbed, leaning over the bar, looking down at his drink. He looks exactly the same. Same mustache, same hair. Same leather jacket. Same tired look in his eyes.

You quickly look away, before he can catch you staring. Your heart beats like crazy in your chest and you exhale softly, a smile splitting your face. For a moment, you don’t know what to do. Insecurity invades your mind and you wonder if he’ll reject you if you go talk to him.

“Do you know him?” Another friend of yours asks.

“Uh, yeah,” You say quietly. “I met him in Colombia.”

They pause, nodding at you.

“Well, go talk to him!”

You shake your head, scoffing. “He probably doesn’t even remember me.” You lie. Of course he remembers you, you’re not stupid.

“Honey, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have been staring at you the entire night.”

Laughing softly, you look over your shoulder again. This time, you catch him staring. His eyes meet yours and you’re immediately sent back to Colombia, memories of him invading your mind. You look back at your friends, who nod, encouraging you to go over him. Taking a deep breath and grabbing your bottle, you stand from your seat. With wobbly legs, your heart is thumping, beating hard, your stomach churning with anxiety. Javier looks at you as you approach, straightening his back, and you smile at him, stopping right in front of him.

“Hi,” You say, shyly.

Javier smiles at you and you melt. Four years and he still makes you weak.

“Hi, Mariposa.” His voice reaches your ears, the same low baritone. “You look good.”

“You look the same.” You chuckle, sipping your beer. You want to hug him, but you’re not sure if he’ll be receptive.

“Can’t tell if that’s a bad thing or a good thing.” He smiles. Shit, he smiles.

“Me neither.”

He watches you with an amusing smile, leaning on the bar as you take a seat beside him.

“When did you get back?” You ask and Javi shrugs.

“About two weeks ago.” He can’t stop looking at you. “How have you been?”

“Good. Been working on a PhD.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “How’s that going?”

“Better than I expected.” You laugh and Javi smiles at you. “How are you?”

A pause. And then,

“Better now.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff at him as you shake your head.

“I mean it.” His voice is soft as he bumps his shoulder to yours playfully. You look into his eyes and feel your heart skip a beat. Javier exhales softly, his eyes dancing between yours and your lips; you fight the urge to bite on your lower lip when you realize he’s staring. You want to ask him about everything, how is Steve, did they finally catch Escobar, how was the hunt, does he–

Do you still love me?

“I still have your sunglasses,” You say, instead. Javier raises his brows in surprise again and tilts his head, smiling. “Well, not here, but back at home.”

“Keep them.” He shrugs. “They look better on you.”

You bite your lower lip, shaking your head as you look at him. Except for some wrinkles, he’s still the same Javi you fell for all those years ago.

“We have an audience.” Javier interrupts your thoughts and you look over at your friends to catch them staring. They quickly turn around, pretending they weren’t watching and you laugh softly.

“Do you want to join us?” The words leave your lips before you can think. He hesitates. “They don’t bite.” Before he can answer, though, you hop off the stool and nod towards the table they’re sat at, with pleading eyes. “They’d love to meet you.”

Javier wants to say no, but his body moves without his consent before he can notice. He grabs his glass and follows you to the table where you introduce him to your friends. He sits next to you in the booth, your thighs and shoulders touching. The heat of his body radiates to yours and you feel warmth bloom in your chest.

Slowly and gently, he places a palm on the top of your thigh, hovering at first, giving you space to brush it off. But you gently take his hand under the table and lace your fingers with his. You look at each other, knowing smiles on both of your faces. Your stomach twists with a good feeling and you sigh, content.

Maybe you could start over with him, after all.

__

tagging: @goldafterglow​ @adikaofmandalore​ @forever-rogue​ @hiscyarika​ @bestintheparsec​ @haildoodles-writing​ @aerynwrites​ @murdermewithbooks​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @theocatkov​

[pastelwitchling]

Malex Happily Ever After chapter 116 sequel

Part One.

As if Michael would leave. He didn’t care what Alex said, what he heard mattered more. And when Alex had told him to go away, his eyes and tears had begged Michael to come closer, to protect him. To give him a reason to trust again.

So he couldn’t leave. Especially not now.

Instead, he waited in his truck for another two hours before he spotted them. Alex was on his crutches – a smile tugged at Michael’s lips as he imagined Kyle insisting he use a wheelchair and Alex insisting he was fine – with Forrest right there next to him, a hand on his arm. He didn’t need to touch him, Michael knew he didn’t. Alex didn’t need help. But he may have needed comfort.

Michael’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he thought of Alex asking Forrest to stay close, to be able to feel him and know that they were both okay. To be unable to breathe unless they were together.

When they were off, Michael followed. He’d hoped that Alex’s car in front of him would go to the Long farm to drop Forrest off, but they both went to Alex’s house instead. As Forrest stepped out of the driver’s seat and hurried to the passenger’s side to help Alex out, he made no move to leave. He went inside, instead, with Alex.

Michael exhaled slowly. It wasn’t like they could get up to anything with the both being injured from the car wreck, but to know that Forrest got to be there with Alex, taking care of him – it unnerved Michael to no end.

Around half an hour later, Michael saw Forrest leave the house, already calling someone on his phone. Michael listened closely and overheard the words ready for pickup, and realized Forrest was leaving to get takeout for them. He barely managed to sit still until Forrest got in his car and drove away, then he stepped out of his truck and stormed up to the front porch. He started to knock, then remembered that Alex was injured and shouldn’t be moving around.

“Sorry about this, Private,” he muttered, and opened the door with his mind.

“Forrest?” Alex called, and Michael clenched his jaw as he closed the door.

He stepped into the living room to find Alex sitting on his couch against several cushions and pillows. Michael’s eyes fell to his bruises and red scratches.

Alex’s brows furrowed and he started to stand. “Guerin? What’re you doing here? How’d you get in?”

��Opened the door,” Michael said dumbly, and sat next to him.

Alex didn’t move away. “You can’t do stuff like that,” he growled. “You can’t just march into my house when my boyfriend’s not here and –”

“Don’t call him that,” Michael said at once, getting closer. Alex held his gaze, unwavering. God, Michael loved him. “I need to know you’re okay, Alex. I – I can’t breathe until I do, okay?”

Something in Alex’s eyes softened and he sighed. He put a hand in Michael’s curls and pulled him in so that their foreheads rested together. Michael inhaled sharply, and instinctively reached out, grabbing Alex’s waist and gripping tightly.

“I’m okay,” Alex said into the space between their mouths. “Look at me, Guerin, I’m okay.”

Alex put a gentle hand on Michael’s jaw until he opened his eyes and took Alex in. He reached up and put a hand on Alex’s chest, his breaths shaking as he felt Alex’s heart racing.

“You’re okay,” he breathed, wrapping his arm around Alex’s waist and pulling him in closer.

Alex nodded, their foreheads still pressed together. He whispered, “I’m okay.”

Michael held on. He wanted to press his nose to the crook of Alex’s neck and inhale his scent. He wanted to run his hand up and down Alex’s back, the thin fabric of his shirt the only barrier between their skin. He wanted to push his face into Alex’s hair and fall asleep to the soft strands against his skin.

Then Alex took his wrist, gently but firmly, and put his hands down. The comfort and relief that had barely arrived was now replaced with panic. Michael knew what was about to happen.

“Please,” he whispered, trying to keep his and Alex’s foreheads pressed together. “Please don’t ask me to leave.”

Alex still had his eyes closed. “Guerin –”

“Please, Alex, I can’t leave you to him. I can’t.”

“He’s my boyfr—”

“Don’t say it,” he pleaded, wrapping his arms around Alex again and pulling him onto his lap. “Please, don’t – don’t say it.”

“You’ll be okay,” Alex said, his voice subdued, resigned, as if he actually believed that Michael would survive without him.

“No,” Michael said at once. “No, I – Alex –” He fumbled with his words. He knew he had no choice now but to tell the truth, or Alex would never trust his feelings again. “I only dated Maria because – because she was easier.”

Alex shook his head, as if the words pained him. “Michael, please –”

“If – if she said no, it wouldn’t have hurt, Alex!” he said desperately. “I wouldn’t have cared. But you looked like you might actually stay! And I didn’t – I didn’t want to lose you!”

“I can’t do this now,” Alex pleaded.

“I thought having some small part of you would be enough, than getting all of you, and then losing it again. I couldn’t have lived with that, Alex –”

“And me?” he demanded. His eyes shone with tears. “What was I supposed to do, sit around and understand that while you were with someone else? You have any idea the hours I’ve paced this room, the bunker, the base – just driving myself crazy with the thought of what you guys were doing together? If I’m so damn important, then why did she get you?!”

Michael stared, stunned speechless as Alex hid his face, tears falling down the bridge of his nose.

“A-Alex . . .”

Alex wiped at his tears, seemingly frustrated with himself for crying in front of Michael at all. After a long moment of silence, he finally spoke, his voice hoarse, “I wanted you more than anybody. I fought for you harder than anybody. And she got to have you.” He finished his words in a whisper, pushing away from Michael as if unable to take his touch anymore.

His eyes as he stared out the window were cold and numb. “I am so sick of coming in last. You are not going to come here now, Guerin, and pretend you love me more than someone who has finally picked me.” He turned slowly to face Michael whose eyes burned and vision blurred with unshed tears.

“Now, I say this because I love you. Get out of my house. Because the second Forrest gets back, I’m going to hold on tight, and never let go.”

Michael flinched like Alex had hit him, but Alex had already turned away, dismissing him completely. Michael didn’t want to stand, didn’t want to move, but his legs seemed to have a mind of their own as they picked him up and dragged him to the door. Alex wouldn’t turn to look at him, let alone say anything else.

Michael felt like his heart was lying in broken shards at the bottom of his stomach, Alex’s words, and cruel truth, ringing in his ears, repeating hopeless hopeless hopeless. There was nothing for him to do. This time, he knew he’d really lost Alex forever.

Michael stepped out, still trying to process what his brain just couldn’t, and came face to face with Forrest Long.

*

Forrest wanted to hurry. Rationally, he knew his Alex was the most competent and strongest person there was, but his heart thudded uncomfortably as he ran through everything that might happen to the airman while he was gone.

Get ahold of yourself, he scolded several times as he waited impatiently at the Crashdown diner, as he quickly called out, “Keep the change!,” as he drove a few miles above the speed limit on his way back to the house. It was his fault, after all, that he and Alex had crashed in the first place. Whether or not an alien was involved didn’t matter. He just wanted to make sure Alex got back on his feet, safe and happy, as quick as possible.

He had no idea that he would hurry back to Alex’s house with a bag of burgers in hand to find Michael Guerin coming out.

Michael blinked like he was surprised to see Forrest at all, but before Forrest could say anything, Michael went past him, his eyes almost numb with something like shock and . . . fear?

Forrest went inside, brows furrowed, and found Alex exactly where he’d left, though not exactly how. Alex’s shoulders were straight, his back taught, his eyes staring out the window.

“Alex?” Forrest said softly as he reached out and touched his shoulder. Alex inhaled sharply, like just waking from his thoughts, and looked up at Forrest with red-rimmed eyes.

Forrest’s bag fell onto the table and he sat down, taking Alex’s face in his hands. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Alex tried for a reassuring smile, but looked away as he wiped his eyes. “Nothing, please, just c’mere.”

Alex wrapped his arms around Forrest’s waists eagerly, pressing his face into his collarbone. Forrest instinctively held him back just as tightly. He kept thinking back to Michael’s face, how it didn’t look so different from Alex’s; heartbroken beyond repair.

He almost asked what Michael was doing here, why’d left so upset, but he didn’t need to. He could imagine Michael bursting in here, terrified for Alex, and Alex ending things between them, breaking them both.

He held Alex tighter. “Hey,” he whispered into Alex’s hair. “Can you sill breathe okay?”

I’ll know, he thought. He would know if Alex was lying.

Alex took a second, then whispered, “Yeah. I can breathe.”

Forrest’s eyes fell shut and his shoulders sagged. He held Alex tighter as a cool resolution came over him, overriding his own heart, cracking away.

“Okay, baby,” he said, holding Alex as tight as he could and putting a hand in his hair. “Okay.”

His hands didn’t tremble, his breathing was calm. He loved Alex more than anything, so he knew what he had to do.

*

Alex put his elbow on the car door, his chin rested on his palm as the black sky passed them by. Forrest, though he had no idea why, insisted that they go for a drive that night. Alex didn’t mind. Some fresh air, he’d hoped, would help clear his mind.

Except of course he knew that wouldn’t happen. He didn’t think he could ever forget the look on Michael’s face. He shut his eyes against the memory and reached for Forrest’s hand as he took them down a familiar route. Forrest kissed Alex’s fingers and said nothing.

Alex closed his eyes for a second, maybe he’d dozed off, but the familiar bumpy road woke him and he looked around to find that Forrest was driving them right into the junkyard. Alex caught Michael’s eyes first, who had been sitting in front of the lit bonfire and was just beginning to stand, looking just as shocked to see Alex there.

“What is this?” he asked as Forrest parked the car, seemingly giving Michael no attention. “Why are we here?”

Forrest turned the car off and sighed. He smiled warmly at Alex. “I love you,” he said, and the answer shouldn’t have left a seedling of dread in Alex’s stomach, but it did.

“I love you, too,” he murmured. Then, eager to change the subject, he asked again, “Forrest, what’re we doing here?”

“Alex,” he took Alex’s hand in both of his and kissed it again, harder, more desperately, as if he was trying to hold onto something. The dread grew and out of the corner of his eyes, Alex saw Michael hesitate where he stood, as if wary of approaching the car before someone stepped out.

Alex already knew where this was going. He shook his head. “No.”

“Listen to me –”

“No! You can’t do this.”

“You think I want to?” Forrest demanded, though his smile never left. “Alex, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But I know you, I know who you really love, with everything you have, and it’s not me.”

Alex shook his head. He whispered, “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is,” Forrest chuckled miserably.

Alex clenched his jaw, his eyes burning. “I’ll – I’ll never see him again, I’ll never talk to him again, I’ll –”

“Don’t do that,” Forrest said earnestly. “Don’t torture yourself like that. Alex . . . you know who he loves. You know how he feels about you. Don’t throw that away because you’re a little scared right now, you deserve better than that.”

“I said I would never let you go.”

Forrest shrugged. “You’re not. I’m letting you go.”

A cry escaped Alex’s lips. “You can’t do this, you love me.”

Forrest took his face in his hands and kissed him hard. Against his lips, he whispered, “I’m doing this because I love you.” He held Alex tighter for a few seconds before he let go with a sharp inhale, and put his hands on the steering wheel instead. His knuckles were white, his smile tighter now.

“Go, Cap,” he forced a chuckle, his head ducked. “Don’t make me wait here, or I might not let you leave. Then we’ll both regret it.”

Alex stared. He wanted to kiss Forrest’s cheek or take his hand in one last squeeze, but he knew that would be cruel to do. Holding his breath and not giving himself any time to think about it, Alex stepped out of the car. As soon as the door was closed, Forrest ran a hand through his blue hair and drove away. Alex watched long after his car had disappeared.

He put his hands in his pockets and hung his head back. Huh. He hadn’t noticed all the stars tonight. He looked over at Michael who’d been watching him, and felt that jagged shard in his heart that he’d had for too long finally ease away.

He walked past Michael and sat down on the other lawn chair in front of the bonfire. Slowly, Michael sat down, too, his eyes still on Alex.

“Private –”

“Can I stay here tonight?” he asked before he could fully process everything that had happened.

Michael nodded, hope coloring his eyes as they reflected the flames. “Please.”

Alex hugged himself. “‘Cause I still need a minute.”

Michael said nothing a moment, then moved his chair close enough to Alex’s that their knees touched and their thighs almost brushed. He visibly hesitated before he put an arm around Alex’s shoulders, his grip on Alex’s arm tight, as if scared he would disappear otherwise.

The touch sent a long-missed shock throughout Alex’s entire body, and he sighed deeply. He rested his head down on Michael’s shoulder, and the two just held each other like that for a long time.

[holy-stevie]

We weren’t anything

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader, Ransom Drysdale x Reader (past) 

Summary: You bump into Ransom ten years after he broke your heart. 

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, a few swear words? 

Word Count: 1.4k 

a/n: this is a very long awaited sequel to this and im sorry it took so long! 

Masterlist

The alarm drones on in the early morning quietness, making you groan and turn over to shove your face into your pillow. Who thought that waking up early was ever a good idea?

“C’mon it’s time to adult.” A deep voice says in your ear, a gentle warm hand brushing through your hair to rouse you. You’re almost purring at the feeling, a sleepy smile rousing on your face as you hear rushed footsteps.

“3...2...1” You count down making the deep voice chuckle as he watches the toddler climb up onto the bed.

“Mommy wake up!” You peak an eye open at the small giggle, meeting the beautiful smile of your 3-year-old daughter, Rosie. When she sees your eyes open she shuffles until you move to accommodate her in your arms, her small body snuggling into yours. You send a knowing glance over her head at your husband, Andy Barber.

You had met the handsome lawyer almost eight years ago now, married him six years ago and gave birth to your first child three years ago. He knew every detail of your past and present, knowing all of your facial expressions to a tee. The two of you had healed past traumas together and worked to become the best parents for your little Rosie, to become the best partners for each other.

“Mommy c’monnnnn, it’s shopping day!” She says as she pokes your eyes to open them again, you grin and lean up to kiss her little fingers making her giggle.

“Guess it’s time for all of us to get up huh?” Andy says before scooping up Rosie and standing from the bed, their laughs making you giggle before getting up yourself.

~

“Mommy can I get cookies?” Rosie asks from your side, you check your list in your hand before sighing and looking down at her cute pout.

“Fine baby but don’t tell daddy cause he’ll eat them.” You say playfully and pinch her cheek lightly, causing her to giggle and run ahead of your shopping cart to the aisle she knows all to well. When you turn into the aisle you feel the breath leave your lungs and your heart drop in your chest.

“Here you go kid.” He says, the tall handsome man says as he hands your daughter her favourite packet of cookies with a smile. You feel panic gripping at your throat, but you swallow it down when Rosie turns to you with a excited smile.

“Mommy I got them!” She squeals making the man turn to look at you. His bright blue eyes widen as his mouth drops open slightly, you try not to read into his reaction for too long before turning back to your daughter.

“Put them in the cart baby.” You say sweetly before taking a deep breath and looking back up at him.

“Ransom.” You speak, your hands gripping the shopping cart tighter as his wicked blue eyes study you. You wish you could say he didn’t look good, but that would be a straight out lie. His hair was gelled back neatly and his body was still as strong and dominating as it was almost a decade ago.

“Y/n..” He says, a soft smile lighting his face as he steps closer, the light catching on the gold band wrapped around his left ring finger. A daunting reminder of the heartbreak you suffered.

“And mini Y/n?” He asks looking down at the small girl clinging to your leg, her pink poka dot dress matching the small pink bows in her soft brown hair. You look down at your baby girl, her soft cheeks and beautiful ocean eyes that she had inherited from her father. You couldn’t love anything more then you love her.

“My name is Rosie!” She giggles at the strange man who knows her mother, holding her hand out politely for him to shake. Much to your surprise he squats down and presses a small kiss to her tiny hand, making the little girl giggle and blush. Don’t fall for it kid.

“Rosie, we need to go baby.” You mumble, Ransoms head snapping up to yours as you shift from foot to foot uncomfortably. Rosie pouts but says goodbye like the good little girl she is before moving to stand by your side again, her hand clutching your wrist until you unwind your fingers so she can hold them.

“Wait Y/n, go to dinner with me tonight?” He asks as he stands up again, a hopeful smile rising on his face making your anger spark.

“What makes you think I’d say yes?” You bite out, he flinches back slightly and clenches his jaw. You scoff at his lack of reply before grabbing the shopping cart and heading towards the registers, reminding yourself to come back with Andy later.

“Y/n!” You sigh and close your eyes, the buckles for your daughters’ seat click together as you open your eyes in irritation. Turning around you see Ransom jogging towards your car, you quickly slide your phone out of your pocket and hand it to Rosie, knowing this conversation was about to get ugly.

“What Drysdale?” You mumble out as you close the car door, observing your little girl to try to calm down the raging emotions racing through you.

“One dinner, we need to talk. Please.” He begs, lifting a hand to run through his hair that had been messed up slightly from his run to your car.

“No.” You curtly reply, hand slipping to your door handle ready to leave him behind for good.

“Please wait.” He says, hand grabbing your wrist lightly to stop you. You don’t look at him, keeping your eyes on the window in front of you.

“We need to talk about it.” He says quietly, trying to worm his way in again to have you under his finger. You knew that was exactly what he was doing, and you wouldn’t let it.

“What do you want me to say huh?” You’re almost shaking from the anger running through you as you remember that night, sobbing on the cold wet ground all alone where he left you.

“To just-”

“To what Ransom? I haven’t heard anything from you in almost 10 years, why now.” You interrupt him.

“You were the one who left! You disappeared, and I couldn’t find you, I wanted to find you.” He says as he takes a step closer to you, you stare at his face in your car windows reflection before your eyes flick to look into your own. The anger and tears overcome you as you turn towards him with a heartbroken glare.

“Do not pull that shit on me Drysdale. You did this to us! You married my best friend while fucking me behind her back, YOU made me sit there and watch the person I love marry someone else.” He flinches at the tears that fall from your eyes as you point at him several times, the soul wrecking sadness that you had spent years burying was slipping out of your control. He opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.

“You broke my fucking heart. So no, you don’t get to come back into my life like this, I can’t take it.” You’re looking at your shoes as you say this, the lump in your throat making your words crack. He moves to touch you before you take a step back, your hand opening the driver’s door of your car.

“We were never going to be anything, so don’t bother trying to reconnect that bridge. I have a husband who loves me, I have a beautiful daughter and a normal, happy life. I don’t want or need to see you ever again Ransom.” You don’t give him a chance to respond, slamming the car door in his face and frantically backing out of the parking spot. You don’t look back at his slumped shoulders and heartbroken expression, not looking back until you are pulling into the familiar driveway.

Rosie doesn’t waste a second to unbuckle herself and race inside to her father, leaving you to press your forehead against the steering wheel for a few minutes to recollect yourself before entering the house. A flood of gratitude runs through you as you watch the love of your life bounce on the couch with his daughter, their laughter flooding the room with the love and happiness that you craved every day.

And when his calming ocean eyes met yours, laughter lines making his eyes crinkle in a way that he complains about, but you adore, you don’t stop the sweet smile that grows on your face. Joining the two of them on the couch with a pillow thrown at Andy’s chest, you feel the anger and the sadness mellow out. Your small family complete once again, a echoing blissful sound of laughter coursing through your heart.

taglist: @scarletsoldierrr​ @chrisevans-imagines​ @patzammit​ @onetwo3000​ @yoncevans​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @sleepycevans​ @adriannajackson​ @donutloverxo​ @cloudninevans​ @smyfmj​ 

[sunflowerandco]

After the Fact: Act II

Act I

Rating: M for depictions of sex. Now edited not to be explicit.

          It all made perfect sense to him. Their closeness, his need for her, and immense feelings about her that he couldn't ignore formed those clouds of truth again.

-Senior Year-

          Their cumulus forms became more noticeable as they collected moments that may have seemed simple. Still, they weakened the image he had of himself. A persona that wasn't capable of ever having these feelings.

          He needed Courtney to know, and the truths that clouded his mind didn't care about the perfectly crafted image Duncan cared to maintain.

          An image Courtney saw right through.

          "I love you...so fucking much." His words were delivered in between hitched breaths. The grip he had on her hips tightened while he had her take deeper strokes over and over. He could feel himself getting closer to his peak.

          Courtney's mind could only imagine feeling the same way. She heard herself say "I love you, too," in between whimpers.

          It wasn't long after these confessions that Courtney sunk deeper onto him. Deep, warm waves rippled through her lower body as her moans reached their cap. She began grinding in him in a desperate need to ride her peak out. Duncan held her by her waist, making her climax last as long as it could.

          Seeing Courtney at her most unconstrained dissolved all tension in him. He sat up slowly until their foreheads were touching, their panting out of sync with each other. Their lips brushed lightly, and life magnets they leaned in and closed the gap of light that peered through Duncan’s curtains. Their deep kiss ended when Courtney sought out a new position, lying next to him on his bed.

         She was still basking in their glow; enjoying the privilege of not rushing to put on the first piece of clothing she saw right after the act. That's when Duncan got up and headed towards the bathroom. She unashamedly caught glimpses of him as he made his way out. She heard sink water running when she lied on her back again.

         Courtney sighed in content, feeling the most relaxed she's ever felt.

         Then it hits her. The very thoughts he confessed to her. Those three words.

         He... loves you?

         She tried her best to shake this feeling. She knew Duncan. Their feelings being mutual wasn't the most outrageous concept to themselves or anyone who spent 5 minutes in a room with them. But love? Courtney couldn't remember the last time Duncan used that word about anything. She assumed he said it in an intense moment of lust, and that he must’ve forgotten by now. She decided.

          She heard the faucet turn off and footsteps toward the door, and Duncan came back with a wet, warm rag.

          "Here, babe," Duncan offered as he removed the bedsheet from her body.

          Courtney's legs were still weak when he parted them to wipe down and around her folds with the cloth. She lied still, frozen by her own realized fears.

          Duncan tried to read an unclear expression on her face. It was almost blank. “Hey... you okay, Princess?” Courtney did her best to ruin this train of thought that left her detached from reality.

          “Yeah. I’m okay. Everything’s okay over here.” Duncan looked unconvinced. Still, he knew you couldn’t force Courtney to do anything until she was ready. He still couldn’t help but feel like he was at fault. All he could do was try to change the subject at hand. But Courtney added on to speak over her lingering thoughts. 

          "Actually, I think I should go home. I don't need my parents worrying about me." Duncan retreated.

          "Alright. My parents should be back soon, too. I'll drive you-"

          "That's okay. I can walk." Courtney reassured him as she gathered her clothes. 

          She let herself out when she finished getting dressed, leaving Duncan concerned and confused.                                                                                                                                          ***

          Courtney practically slammed her locker shut before looking both ways. She successfully avoided Duncan for the rest of the weekend and hoped to do so for the rest of the school day. Upon turning right she saw her friend, Bridgette, at the other end of the hall in front of an empty classroom.

           Bridgette spotted her as well and waved across the her, beckoning Courtney over.

           "Hey, Bridge. Have you seen Duncan today?"

           "Hey, Court, no. I haven't seen him all day. I'm pretty sure he just skipped with Geoff." Bridgette trailed off before remembering Courtney’s plans for last weekend.. "So... how did it go on Saturday?" She asked while playfully poking her.

            Courtney delayed her answer when she grabbed Bridgette's arm and into the empty classroom before shutting the door. She readjusted the bag on her shoulder before locking the door behind her. Her actions caused a look of concern on her friend's face.

          Bridgette sat on top of one of the desks. "I take it didn't go well? What happened?"

          Courtney paced back and forth in short steps before she answered half-heartedly. "Duncan told me he loved me, and I said it back."

          "Oh my gosh!" Bridgette exclaimed. She half-jokingly threw a fist in the air. "Finally! That's so great!" Bridgette smiled through and through, but Courtney's look of uncertainty remained. "Why aren't we smiling?"

          "Well, he said it while we were having sex and..." Courtney trailed off. "What if he just said it because I took my clothes off for him?"

          "Woah, Courtney. You're getting way too ahead of yourself. This is Duncan we're talking about. The guy's had a crush since, like, 7th grade." Bridgette waited for a counterargument from her best friend. "You can always just, you know, ask him?"

          Courtney groaned at the suggestion. "That'll just make me look weird and clingy." She stared into her shoes as she thought of all the possible ways she could be perceived, all of them being out of her control.

          Bridgette couldn't help but give an all-knowing smile. "Oh my gosh. You really, really Love him. I mean, loooove."

          Courtney gave Bridgette a solemn look. "Now is not the time for you to rub in how right you are! Why does love make me so dumb?!"

          Bridgette hopped off the desk she was sitting on and held Courtney by her shoulders. "It doesn't make you dumb, Courtney! You need to accept your feelings for what they are. You both made pretty bold statements to each other. It's okay to ask given the situation. Okay?"

         Courtney took a deep breath before Bridgette loosened her grip on her shoulders. All she could do was nod in agreement. She couldn't argue her way out of this one, and didn't want to. She had truly had enough fighting with herself. She had to give herself a break.

         Bridgette walked her out of the classroom. The hallways were emptier than they last left them. She offered Courtney a ride home, and they made their way out to the school parking lot. They opened the door to see a familiar car parked in front the entrance. Courtney turned back towards the entrance doors, but was quickly caught by Bridgette by the arm. She gently pulled Courtney in the direction of the car. The driver rolled down the window and Bridgette leaned down into it with Courtney caught onto her grip behind her. She heard his voice as Bridgette greeted him.

        Punk rock blared on the radio before it was dialed down, and Courtney looked in through the window to see him sitting there. "Hey, Bridge. Need a ride?"

        "No, but she does." Bridgette gestured to Courtney. She stood straight again to pull Courtney towards the passenger side. Courtney opened the door herself, giving her friend a glare before settling down on the seat. She continued to look towards the windshield without saying so much as a 'bye.' The blonde smiled nonetheless and shut the door for her. She buckled herself in as Bridgette walked towards her own car, and she heard her yell from a distance.

       "See you tomorrow, Courtney! Love you!" Duncan turned on the ignition to make his way to her house.

                                                       ***

          A long ride in silence opposed the advice Bridgette gave Courtney. She had never let fear rule her more than this moment. Duncan pulled onto her street and stopped the engine.

         “Okay, well, see you tomorrow?” He asked in a self-conscious manner, 

         Courtney still faced forward as she answered quietly. “Yeah, see ya. Goodnight.”

         Duncan found he couldn't do anything to make her talk, so he called it a night. Still, he needed her to know. “Okay. I love you, Courtney.”

         Courtney started grabbing her bag and cardigan from the backseat. She responded out of frustration before realizing what he said to her. "I love you, too - wait," she turned her face back toward Duncan for the first time today, her ears increasingly getting warmer. "You meant that?"

         Duncan's brow furrowed before answering. "That I love you? …Yes...? Why would I not mean it?"

         Courtney sat back down in the passenger seat, looking back him again, this time with diffidence laced in her words.  "I don't know... people can say anything in the heat of the moment."

         "Heat of the..." It was then Duncan realized what she was indicating. She looked away. "Let me get this straight. You think I told you that I love you just because we were having sex?" Courtney couldn't admit it, she only sat in silence.

         "Look, Courtney. I meant it. Every word I said. I wouldn't say something like that just to fuck you over. You're..." Duncan trailed off.

         "What? I'm what?"

         Duncan gripped the steering wheel with one of his hands and looked around. "...You're too important for me to lose, Princess. I love you. And I'll say it anytime I want."

         Courtney sat still, but her heartbeat thumped heavy in her chest.

         Duncan pushed her a little. He knew the answer, but still asked. "Well? Do you love me?"

         Courtney turned to him once again. She threw her arms up in surrender. "What? Yes, I love you! I can't remember a time I didn't!" Courtney crossed her arms in a habitual attempt to barricade herself emotionally.

         Duncan inched closer to Courtney, adding fuel to her flame. "And I can't either!" He gestured to himself What's so wrong with that?" His voice took to a deeper, serious tone. "I don't know about you, but hearing that on both ends makes me think we're doing something right. Like I'm doing right by you. Did I do something wrong?"

         Courtney sighed. She could acknowledge this was a product of her own overthinking. "No, not really. I don't know what got into me. I just knew I had these feelings, and I realized that... I'm in deep." She looked down onto her lap. "I knew I wouldn't be okay if it all disappeared one day."

         Duncan placed a hand on her shoulder. "We're gonna do our best to make sure that doesn't happen."

         "Come here." Duncan cupped her chin and placed his lips on top of hers. She joined in the beguiling pattern of his lips drawing out every kiss to be longer and deeper than the last. Courtney sighed into his lips. She felt her hands go through his mohawk as their slow motions began to pick up the pace.

         Duncan placed his hand on her thigh, surpassing the hem of her skirt while his other hand found her lower back. His hand slipped underneath her shirt and Courtney shivered at his touch, and Duncan smiled into the kiss, reveling in the effect he had on her. She wrapped her arms around his neck as an invitation to be pulled in closer. He gripped the back of her thighs to lift her onto his lap. She was halfway there when-

         HOOOONK!

         Courtney practically jumped out of her skin screaming and Duncan frightfully yanked his arm away from the horn. She landed back onto the passenger seat clutching her chest. In between getting the shit scared out of her and the breathlessness of their consolidation, Courtney found herself laughing. Duncan took notice to her loosening up and felt relief. Courtney looked over her shoulder at her house, and noticed one of the lights in her parent's bedroom turn on.

         "I should go in before they chew us out." Courtney calmed her giggles down and gave Duncan a kiss on his cheek. She draped her bag over her shoulder and looked at him one more time. "I love you, delinquent.

         "I love you, too, Princess."

         He watched her to make sure she made it inside her house. She closed the door shut, and Duncan felt himself smiling like an idiot.

A/N: Hello! Quick question: Am I making them too soft? I tried to make them vulnerable because having sex in a new relationship with a person you've only shown one side to can be a scary thing, so they're not gonna be their love/hate selves after they've shown how serious they are about each other. I don't know. If you think they're out of character, let me know and I'll try my best to fix that. See ya in act iii!

[agoldengalaxy]

What It Means to Be a Friend

read on Ao3

It’s getting late, and Kyoko is expecting Makoto to return home soon. But what she isn’t expecting is to receive a call from her drunk friends, Makoto among them.

--

Kyoko sometimes wished she didn’t have a phone. It was a distraction, and one she certainly didn’t need; but then again, the only times it ever rang or received messages was when it was important. Tonight was no exception, it seemed.

It was nearing one in the morning, but she was still working; partly because a detective always had work to do, and partly because Makoto had not returned home yet. It wasn’t like she was worried, though. Despite his open nature and naïvety, he was tougher than he looked. It was something she loved about him, among a lot of other things that she wouldn’t be caught dead admitting out loud.

As she was about to reach for her phone to check the time, it began ringing, buzzing loudly against her wooden desk. Picking it up with a frown, she saw a name across the top. Aoi Asahina. About a hundred different possibilities as to why she could be calling swirled around Kyoko’s mind, and she didn’t like the way fear gripped at her heart even if her face stayed blank. She hated the way that she always just expected the worst, but how could she not?

Exhaling slowly, she pressed a gloved finger to the answer button, lifting the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Kyokoooo!” Hina exclaimed, much too loudly for her liking. “Yay, you answered!”

Kyoko felt a headache coming on. She was...way more energetic than usual. “Hina. Are you drunk?”

A beat passed, and then she giggled. “Awww, man, you guessed it! Guess that’s expected of the Ultimate - hic! - Detective!”

A loud voice, distant but still recognizable, most likely stood right beside her. “Ha, Byakuya said you wouldn’t answer, we proved ‘em wrong! Nice!” A slapping sound that could have only been a high five, and a triumphant, slurring Yasuhiro on the end of it.

It wouldn’t even take a detective for her to realize why they had called in the first place. “Let me speak to Makoto.”

“Yeah, okay, just -” She was greeted with a lot of rustling as Hina no doubt struggled with the phone she was holding. “Crap! Okay, Makoto, sit up, c’mon! Be nice to your girlfriend or she won’t take us home!”

Just as she’d assumed. Kyoko closed her eyes for a moment, bracing herself. More rustling. And then an overexcited voice. “Kyoko? Is that you?!” he asked, hope lacing his tone.

“Yes, it’s me. You don’t have to put the receiver so close to your mouth, Makoto.” She wasn’t one to use pet names often, and she’d certainly rather not do it now, in case Hiro and Hina were listening; but then again, it’s not like they’d remember come morning. “Where’s Byakuya?”

“Uh…” he droned on for a few moments while he most likely looked around for him.

“Hate to break it to ya, but he’s also had a little bit of fun!” Hina exclaimed, giggling to herself, joined by Hiro, who laughed as she continued. “Been sitting at the bar all this time and ignoring us. He’s still so mean, I thought he’d at least hang out with us now!”

“Yeah, well, I think he’s been trying to drown out Toko...come to think of it, where is -”

“She’s over there,” Makoto said matter-of-factly, and the three of them fell silent for a moment.

Kyoko blinked, still processing the beginning of this call. “What? What happened?”

“She’s passed out next to him,” Hina explained, words long and dragged out as if to get the message across clearer. There was silence for a moment, and then she huffed. “Can you please come pick us up, Kyoko? Pretty pretty please with a cherry on top?!”

Before she could respond, there was more rustling. “Please come, I don’t wanna be stuck here all night. I miss you,” Makoto whined, still much too close to the speaker, but even so, Kyoko wasn’t bothered. Her heart fluttered in the way that only Makoto Naegi could accomplish.

Letting out a long sigh, she stood up from her desk. “Fine. Send me your location.” And with that, she hung up before she could receive a response. After throwing on her jacket and grabbing her keys, she was on the road.

Gloved hands gripped the steering wheel as she stared straight ahead at the street. It wasn’t like she was inhuman; she certainly wasn’t going to trust Byakuya to get them home safely if he’d also been drinking, and thanks to a certain hopeful individual, she...considered them all to be her friends. Together they had escaped Hope’s Peak, and together they were still working to combat despair.

But this was why she couldn’t trust them on their own. She was surprised about Byakuya, but not about the rest of them. Maybe it had been a hard day at the Foundation? Well then, it must’ve been a bad time for her to have a day off.

What was done was done, though, she supposed. Nothing could change it, and perhaps she’d get some solid answers tomorrow. For now, she thought, as she pulled into the parking lot, she had to focus on getting her friends home to sleep off their intoxication. She braced herself, got out of the car, and headed inside.

The bar was one she didn’t recognize, but it was brightly lit and quite loud, as expected. She would never understand the appeal of a place full of sweaty, intoxicated people with anger issues, but then again, she was different from a lot of people and not what one would consider to be ‘normal.’ Of course, it didn’t take long for her to find who she had come for; after all, they didn’t exactly fit in with everyone else, so to speak. “Kyoko!” She turned to look, only to have the wind almost knocked out of her as someone ran into her - someone with familiar messy brown hair, face pressed into her neck, his arms tight around her torso. “I missed you so much!”

Despite the fact that she should be annoyed that she had to come and pick all of them up at one in the morning, she had to fight to keep the smile off of her face as she returned the hug lightly. “It’s only been a few hours, Makoto.”

“I don’t care,” he said, pulling away enough to look up at her. His eyes were almost completely dilated, and he was looking at her like she was an ethereal being...and if she was being honest, that wasn’t too far off from how he looked at her when he was sober, too. As much as she hated to admit it, he always filled her stomach with butterflies. “I never want you to have a day off again!”

He was slurring his words, and she knew he didn’t mean it in the way that sentence would normally be implied. All she could do now was be patient. “...We’re together now, right? So there’s no need to be upset, dear.” The name...sort of slipped out. Luckily it seemed to make Makoto feel a lot better, and no one had heard her quiet voice. Perhaps his luck had rubbed off on her.

Reaching down, he took her hand and walked alongside her; once again, she was lucky that he was able to walk straight, though his hand gripped hers like iron. Her scars no longer hurt, so she was just grateful he was walking on his own. As for the  others, she could only hope Makoto’s luck had rubbed off on them, too. Anything to make this as smooth as possible.

Hina and Hiro were excitedly playing a game of ping pong, but they were doing terribly; slow reaction time, missing the ball by many inches, and stumbling against the table itself. Definitely drunk. She raised her voice. “Hey. Let’s go.”

“Kyoko!” Hina exclaimed, as the ball bounced up and bonked Hiro on the head, who let out a very loud profanity. “Sorry, sorry!” She dropped the paddle and sauntered up to her friend, beaming. “I knew you’d come! I knew it, I knew it!”

“Of course I came,” she responded calmly, her voice completely level and the total opposite of the rest of her friends. “It’s time to go.”

Hiro groaned, rubbing his head as he came to stand beside Hina. “Do we hafta…?” Upon receiving a cold glare from the detective, he gulped. “O-Okay, okay!”

Looking at Makoto, she exhaled slowly. “Where are Byakuya and Toko?”

Frowning, glazed eyes scanned the bar, then he pointed with his free hand. “There.”

Sure enough, sitting with his cheek in his hand and a glass (presumably now filled with water, considering the messy hair and rosy cheeks - the bartender must have cut him off) was Byakuya, and beside him was Toko, her arms folded on the bar and her head buried within them. This was where things would get difficult. Unwittingly, she squeezed Makoto’s hand and the four of them walked over.

Straightening up, she frowned down at Byakuya, who was inspecting the ice in his glass. “Let’s go.”

He blinked, unfocused eyes looking up to hers, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “So you did show up,” he scoffed, though his tone wasn’t as terribly frustrating as it normally was. “I’m surprised.”

“I’m not here to make conversation. You’re drunk. Let’s go.”

“So, Kyoko’s in charge now, hm?” he sneered, trying to get to his feet. He stumbled and had to use the bar for support, which took away any sort of credibility from his threat. This time, she didn’t bother trying to hide her smirk.

“Yes, I am, because you’re too drunk to stand. Let’s go.” The progeny grumbled something under his breath but didn’t protest. With the hard part out of the way, she walked over to Toko, shaking her shoulders gently. “Hey. Wake up, we’re leaving.”

The girl groaned, but opened her eyes anyway. Immediately, she frowned. “Kyoko…?” Dazedly, she sat up, managing to glare at Makoto. “D-Don’t stare at me like that…!”

“Be quiet. Let’s get going,” Byakuya huffed, and immediately Toko fell silent.

Just as Kyoko had hoped. It had been difficult, but she knew her friends well enough, and it seemed her luck hadn’t completely run out just yet. Although some stumbled and tripped over their own feet, everyone was able to walk themselves to Kyoko’s car. Makoto, though, still held onto her hand.

After a bit of difficulty, everyone crammed themselves into the backseat. Makoto sat in the passenger’s seat alongside her, and after checking her mirror, she pulled out onto the road. She drowned out the arguing coming from the backseat and checked the time blinking red against her radio. Two a.m. already. The last thing she wanted to do was drive around for another hour and drop everyone else off. They’d have to make themselves comfortable in hers and Makoto’s small apartment.

She glanced toward him as she stopped at a red light, taking in his features. His cheeks were pinker than usual, he looked tired, and he’d been trying to hide very obvious glances toward her throughout the whole car ride. She’d always called him ‘foolishly open’, and while she still agreed with that statement...she no longer felt it was such a bad thing. Keeping one hand on the wheel, she reached to take his hand with her other hand, returning her gaze to the road before she could see the expression on his face.

Finally, she pulled the car up to their building, and even she couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh of relief. “You’re all staying here tonight,” she explained, making it clear that this was not a request. No one seemed to be too upset by the idea, thankfully, and she carefully got out to go unlock the door. As she turned, she noticed her friends slowly making their way to the door, stumbling around like mindless zombies.

“Ow! You stepped on my foot!” Toko hissed.

Hiro laughed, perhaps a bit too loudly. “Sorry, my bad!”

“Would you two shut up?”

“You don’t have to be so mean all the time, Byakuya!” Hina hushed, then immediately stopped in her tracks.

“Hina? You okay?” Makoto asked, and everyone else stopped as well.

The swimmer paled, then ran toward the nearest bush, doubling over to vomit all the alcohol she had consumed.

“Eugh! Gross!”

“Oh, come on, Hiro, we all do it!”

Kyoko sighed quietly, opening the door and nudging it open further with her hip. At least Hina hadn’t gotten it all over her wooden floors. “Come on, let’s leave her alone for now.” Without waiting for a response, she headed inside, expecting them to follow, and went to the couch. There was a pull out bed, but it was certainly not big enough for four people. That, though, wasn’t really her problem; after all, they were the ones who got drunk beyond any of their inhibitions. She pulled it out, then turned to the others, who were staring blankly. “Figure it out for yourselves. I’ll go get some blankets.”

As she gathered a couple of their extra blankets, she heard some arguments, but none of them were heated. As she expected, they were certainly getting tired and no longer had any energy to fight with each other. When she came back to the living room, she found Hiro already sprawled out, snoring on the floor, Byakuya sitting on the edge of the bed, and Toko curled up on the floor, too. She wasn’t going to ask how they came to this conclusion, and instead just walked forward, covering Hiro with one of the blankets and handing one to both Byakuya and Toko.

And then she realized Makoto was missing.

She sighed and walked to the door, peering outside. Her hunch had been correct; he was crouching beside Hina, who was now on all fours in the grass and shaking a little. He was definitely talking to her, trying to help her through it. A while ago, she might have been jealous by the sight, but...that was just her Makoto. That was how he was. He cared too much, even when he himself was just as drunk as Hina was.

Crossing the yard, Kyoko crouched down on the other side of Hina. “Are you finished?”

Pale and sweaty, she lifted her face to look up at her, then nodded slightly. “I-I think so.”

“Good. Let’s get you to bed.” Taking her arm gently, she pulled her to her feet, glancing at Makoto, who had a small smile on his face. Kyoko ignored it for the time being and guided Hina inside. Together they stepped over Hiro. “Byakuya. Move over.”

“What? No, I -”

“Move.” He grumbled and scooted over a little. With that, Kyoko sat Hina down on the other side of the bed. “I’m sorry this is all we have.”

Hina nodded, giving a small, guilty smile. “Thanks, Kyoko. Really. I’m sorry about all this.”

“It’s fine,” she assured her, surprising even herself with her gentle tone. “Just get some sleep.” Nodding, the swimmer slowly lay down, and Kyoko glanced toward Makoto, who looked like he was about to fall asleep standing up. She smiled to herself now, knowing nobody was looking, and walked over to him. “Come on.”

Together they walked to their bedroom, with him stumbling a couple times and her easily catching him. She figured it would be pointless for him to try changing his clothes, so she just let him lay down while she went to get ready for bed. Of course, by the time she emerged from the bathroom, he was already fast asleep - or so she thought. She turned off the light and crawled into bed beside him, nestling close. He was always warm, and it was always a comfort to her.

“Mm...Kyoko,” he mumbled, surprising her. She looked up, seeing his eyes still closed, just barely holding onto consciousness.

“Yes?”

He moved to pull her close, and she didn’t protest. “Thanks. You’re amazing.”

She smiled against his chest, closing her eyes. “Of course.”

With the alcohol in his system, it didn’t long for him to drift off. And surprisingly for her, she wasn’t very far behind.

[themadauthorshatter]

I don't know about you guys, but I think it's time we check on Charles.

If you haven't read the previous parts, you can find them here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 and revision

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Recap time: the symptoms of withdrawl are beginning to kick in and leave Charles in less than favorable conditions, which Henry shows to the government in order to get the sapphire back.

Got that? My episode synopsis-ing is getting better😃. Anyway, ONWARD!!!

We begin with Charles sitting against the wall with his head in his arms and his knees to his chest. It's been a few days, withdrawal's in full blast, and he can't even pick up his head when he hears Henry walk in and kneel in front of him.

"Go away."

Henry simply holds out the pills again. "It must be hard without these, just sitting and counting the stars. Assuming you can do that," he adds with a shrug.

He reaches forward and practically picks up Charles's jaw, lifting it up so they meet eyes, which Charles doesn't do because the chain on his hat is shiny, there's a red hair on his coat, a papercut on his thumb, the scar on the bridge of his nose, and tons of small things that keep getting his attention.

"My offer still stands, Charles. All I need is you to tell me where it is, and you can have these back. Every last one."

Charles only stares off as his face contorts with sorrow and frustration, even when Henry snaps his fingers to get him to focus.

"Come on, Charles. We've been at this for a while, and I'm having a hard time seeing you like this now, so tell me. Where did you hide the sapphire?"

Tears fill Charles's eyes and his shoulders drop. "I don't know," he sobs. "I... I don't know."

Henry sighs and scowls, pocketing the pills. "Well, damn it for the both of us, then."

As he opens the door, Charles rushes at him, hard enough to knock them both to the ground and dent the cuffs.

Charles, not looking a gift horse in the mouth, books it, running down the hall and around every corner he can.

Henry, chuckling, stands up. "Alright. Let's do this, Charles."

Charles keeps running(really getting his cardio and steps in here), ducking behind and diving wherever he can to avoid being seen and found, eventually finding his way to a weapon vault.

In a rush and a panic, he bashes the cuffs off and repeatedly slams his hand against the panel to slip inside; don't worry, his ribs are better enough to be Bold Action Man again.

Inside, Charles catches his breath and tries to get his bearings, even when Sven announces over the intercom to keep an eye out for a runaway pilot.

Now knowing people are looking for him, Charles lets out a sob-groan and throws his hands over his eyes, losing it before taking a few deep breaths.

"Just breathe," he mutters to himself. "Just breathe, Charlie. You've managed before once. You can do it again." Charles takes another breath and arms himself with a handgun as someone begins to open the door.

He quickly draws and aims at Henry(are you surprised?), who raises an eyebrow and gives Charles a look of, 'bitch, really?' and leaning against the doorway, propped up on his arm.

Charles only stands his ground, taking deep breaths as he shakily speaks. "Take me home."

Henry only responds by snapping his fingers on one side and tapping his nails against the doorway, two sounds that heavily distract Charles.

It gets worse when, in between snaps and taps, Henry cracks and pops his knuckles, even clicking and clucking his tongue and tsking.

It doesn't help that Charles keeps noticing the weapons on the walls, especially the damage some have on them.

Henry snaps his fingers in front of Charles and removes his top hat, so Charles has a clear shot to his head.

Charles clenches his eyes shut and pulls the trigger, damning the consequences and the fact that he still has no idea how to get home.

Click!

Charles pales as his stomach drops with his hands and the gun, sliding to the ground as Henry kneels back in front of him.

"Do you REALLY think we'd keep our weapons loaded when we don't use them?"

Charles goes to hit Henry with the gun, as it's now a blunt weapon, but Henry grabs his wrist and pulls him close, so his back is against Henry's chest and Henry can slip an elbown around Charles's neck.

"By the way," Henry says before leaning into Charles's ear and growling, "You should've taken that shot, when you had the chance."

CUT TO EARTH(BECAUSE I'M A TROLL😈😈😈)

Rupert and Calvin are driving on that off road from Part 4 and looking for Charles's car, he's gonna need for when he gets back.

"I hope Charles is okay."

"You said that yesterday," Rupert replies sharply.

Calvin shrugs. "I'm just worried, that's all. He's been gone for a while, and Henry's got him."

"And he wants to know where we put the sapphire."

Rupert stops when they find Charles's car, but Calvin's not done.

"Where's the sapphire, anyway?"

"Shipped it off," Rupert explains as he leaves the car. "The General's having some friends of his make a replica, though, out of glass."

Calvin follows and they find a very relaxed Terrence, who's lying on Charles's car.

Calvin steps up and demands to know what Terrence is doing here.

"Nice to see you, too," Terrence sighs as he gets up. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"We're bringing Charles home, and he's gonna need that," Rupert snarls.

"Not where he is, but knock yourselves out," Terrence dismisses as he tosses the keys to Calvin. "Told anyone that it needed gas. Kept it company."

Calvin eyes Terrence, but loads in and starts Charles's car.

"I'll follow you," Rupert calls as he hops back into his car; the plan is that they're going to rtyrn the car to Charles's house, grab the twins', and return to the base. Rupert's following Calvin, for safety reasons.

Calvin gives a thumbs up and they head out toward Charles's house, Terrence riding with a tense Rupert.

"So the pilot's up in the stars now? Shame."

"You left him that note," Rupert replies sharply. "Why?"

Terrence raises an eyebrow. "When people can't solve a problem, you either give them a hint or solve it for them, which won't help them at all."

Rupert's eyes go wide as he stares at Terrence. "'Help?' You call getting Charles kidnapped 'HELP?'"

"Help is like art; it can mean anything."

"That son of a bitch is forcing him into withdrawl!" Rupert snaps. "He's keeping him from taking his medicine and you're just going to sit back and say you 'helped!?'"

Terrence stares down at his boots as Rupert locks his eyes on the road.

"I swear, if Charles dies, it's on you."

Terrence only stares out the window and remains silent for a while until they drop off Charles's car and head back to the base.

"He won't die. Henry won't let him."

"How do you know?" Rupert asks.

"Because he's selfish and childish, and he hates sharing his toys."

"But he LEADS the Toppat Clan."

"Which used to belong to Reginald," Terrence explains. "Charles is the General's son, adopted or otherwise, and the General calls MOST of the shots."

Rupert tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "And with Charles on that station, we can't attack."

Terrence nods. "The General's already lost a lot of people. What d'you think he'll do if he accidentally gets Charles incinerated in space?"

They're silent for the rest of the drive, after that.

Now that I bring up Galeforce, we cut to him watching the live feed of Charles escaping before being dragged back to his cell, kicking, screaming, and crying. Right, who's pulling him, grabs his hands and re-restrains him, so Charles is back to hanging.

WITH CHARLES!

He's struggling against his cuffs again as Henry, Right, Reginald and Ellie watch, unimpressed, fed up, and just sick of his BS.

"You know, this would've been A LOT easier, if he'd just stayed like this the entire time," Ellie rematks with her arms folded.

Henry nods, but signs, 'We can't have him atrophied or with his arms stick like that, but at least it keeps him in one place.'

They watch him keep trying to break free, Charles not noticing them.

"We could tell 'im 'ow to get to an escape pod, and 'e wouldn't listen," Right says.

"We could literally say ANYTHING, and he wouldn't listen," Ellie adds.

Reginald only sighs/groans as he leans his head against Right's shoulder. "How long is he going to do that until he realizes it won't help?"

They watch Charles for a little bit longer before, Ellie, who gets the 'okay' nod from Henry, steps up and slams her fist into Charles's stomach.

Charles stops instantly and has a coughing fit.

Cut to Galeforce seeing this and clenching a fist before cutting back to Charles as he keeps coughing.

"You're not doing yourself any favors, so just tell us what we want to know and we'll send you on your merry way."

Charles weakly glares at them, though he looks eyes with Henry.

"What part of 'I don't know where the sapphire is,' do you not understand?" He snaps. "I fell unconscious, when I gave it to them, so HOW could I be able to tell where they hid it?"

Henry furrows his brow before Reginald speaks up, "If you didn't hide it, someone else must have, and you're the top pilot, if you don't know where it is, who would?"

Charles immediately thinks of the twins, but shakes his head, eyes on the floor to avoid looking at everyone. "I don't know."

"Careful, kid," Right says. "If y' keep lying, you'll get yourself killed."

Charles shakes his head again. "I really don't know."

Right, knowing Charles is lying, punches him in the cheek with his non-cybernetic hand.

It makes Charles's ear ring and makes him taste blood(because he bit his cheek), before Henry approaches him and signs to him.

'Don't think I forgot about those twins you care about. If they know, we'll drop you off and pick them up, easy. Unless you want to tell us yourself where ths sapphire is?'

Charles's face drops with horror before he glares and spits a mix of blood and saliva at Henry, hitting him on the cheek.

"Fuck you."

Henry, ever the gentleman, scowls and wipes himself off, nodding at Right and Ellie; 'He's yours.'

He and Reginald turn to leave, but Henry lightly holds Ellie's arm and leans into her ear.

"Don't break him."

"Why would I break your new favorite toy? Give me some credit."

The two smile at each other and Henry leaves, Reginald behind him; he did not want to be in that room when Right and Ellie were there.

The door closes and the two turn to Charles, Right letting Ellie go forst because she's a lady👸

Cut back to Galeforce, who cringes as Ellie punches Charles sone more, the pilot groaning and crying out with each strike.

Victoria and Konrad enter the room carefully, Konrad holding a rolled up piece of paper and Victoria there as his escort and emotional support.

"General, you asked for us?"

Galeforce turns away from the monitor as he it shows Ellie letting Right take a turn and Charles pick up his feet to kick him away.

"I did. How's the design coming along?"

Konrad passes the rolled up paper to Galeforce, who opens and insects it.

"We've already got a few prototypes being built, so we should be ready for testing soon."

Galeforce nods at them. "Good. When they're done, have them tested ASAP, got it?"

Both nod and Galeforce dismisses them, though. Victoria stays to long enough to see him set down the paper and maks himself keep watching the feed, on which Right throws a kick HARD into Charles's stomach and makes him cough worse than when Ellie punched him.

It makes Victoria flunch becofe she turns to the General.

"I don't know who's getting it worse, him or you."

Galeforce ignores her, only watching as Right lets Ellie have a turn again.

Victoria puts a hand on his shoulder, and she can FEEL how much he's shaking.

"We're going to bring him home soon, General. I promise."

Galeforce, without looking, rests his hand on Victoria's.

"Thank you."

CUT BACK TO CHARLES!!!

Right and Ellie are gone, and he's beat to all hell, his face and body bloodied and bruised, though his ribs aren't as significantly bruised as his face, because of obvious reasons.

Charles is breathing heavily and spitting out blood, because it taste makes him sick. He rests his head against his arm and gives his restraints another pull before sighing and letting out a sob.

He doesn't know if the others know he's on the station, but hopes that they're both alright and planning on getting him out, because he's trapped.

Then he thinks about how Henry knew Charles was protecting the twins, and breaks down.

Henry knows about the twins.

"I'm sorry," Charles says to no one in particular. "I'm so sorry."

[themagicalmysticalboy]

John and Paul had a big argument about Brian, Paul still cant forget about Spain. It's a very cold and raining night, after very intensing session of drinking John appears under Paul's house, but Paul isnt inside...The next morning Macca finds frozen wet and limp figure curled at his doorsteps.

a/n: this has lit been in my inbox for so long and i feel awful. So sorry anon. hope you’re still around to see it <3

Three minutes. 

That’s all it took for John to have Paul fuming. When the phone rang throughout the house he had half the mind to not answer at all, figuring it would be John. But now he was stuck on the line with a drunk and poorly apologizing Lennon. In reality, he was so incoherent that Paul wasn’t even sure if there was an actual apology buried in his mumbling. On the contrary, he seemed to be blaming Paul, if anything.

“Lemme jus- I’ll come… come over, yeah.” John hiccuped through his words.

“Don’t, alright? I’d rather not deal with you now.” He almost told John he wouldn’t be home, anyway, but that wouldn’t be clever. So, he kept his lips sealed on the topic. 

“It didn’t mean a thing, Paul. Brian was just there.” He said it as if it explained everything. 

Paul pinched the bridge of his nose, his other hand tightening around the phone with a death grip. “I don’t want to hear how it happened.” His voice almost didn’t sound like his own. “I don’t want to hear you blame Brian if that’s what you’re at.” John tried to interrupt but Paul only raised his voice higher. “He doesn’t even know we were together!” Paul’s eyes widened as his mouth snapped shut. Would John catch it? Or was he too drunk to comprehend it?

Deafening silence made Paul’s heartbeat in his ears. “You said ‘were.’” John’s words came out slow and almost sober. “Were together, Macca.”

Paul swallowed down the lump in his throat, his eyes stinging with tears he wouldn’t let slip. There was no going back now. “Yes. We were together.”

He slammed the phone to the receiver just in time to clamp his hands over his mouth, holding in a sob. Rained poured down outside his window as tears slipped down his cheeks. All he could do was stare at the raging storm and wonder if there was any way to fix what was now so painfully broken. He thought of calling off his plans with Mal and just staying by the phone for another call from John. But that was pathetic. He had promised to watch the football match with Mal a week in advance. There wasn’t a good reason- or at least one he could say out loud- to cancel. There was also the issue of not being able to move. Paul seemed immobilized with sadness and fear, quiet sobs escaping him as he stared into the haze outside his window. 

He stayed by the phone for a while until a crack of thunder jolted him to life and he hurriedly wiped his cheeks free of tears. With some much-needed washing up in the bathroom, he was ready to go, wanting to leave before the storm became too much and he would be stuck in his house with only his thoughts. The idea of that terrified him into rushing through the house and hurriedly leashing Martha. She helped him in his hurry, not letting him think twice before tugging him along and to his car. 

They made it into the car, assaulted by the frigid rain, shivering. Paul cranked up the heat as soon as the car was running, rubbing at his arms. The car ride wasn’t long enough for him to get lost in his thoughts, thankfully, and when he arrived at Mal’s the man kept them busy with snacks and other guests and drinks. Paul easily dropped into social mode and left his strife with John in the back of his mind. He knew it would rear up as soon as he was home, maybe even just in his car, but he wouldn’t ruin Mal and everyone else’s fun while he was there. 

Whether it was the knowledge of having to face his own actions or the still-raging storm keeping him, Paul didn’t leave Mal’s house until very late into the night. Mal had suggested they play a board game to sober everyone up and it drug on until almost five in the morning. The rain was at a drizzle when Paul put his car into park. 

He wanted to wait just a bit longer for it to come to a halt but Martha was wiggling around like mad, whining and pawing at his arm. He sighed, letting his forehead hit the steering wheel. “Fine,” he breathed.

She shot anxious glances between him and the door until he undid his seatbelt to lean over and pop the passenger door open. She shot out of the car and into the darkness with a happy wag in her tail the instant she could, leaving Paul to stare after her. Exhaustion mingled with dread, making him unwilling to go to his house. He sluggishly got out of the car. As he leaned back in to grab his wallet, Martha began to bark.

He dragged out a long sight, head dropping, before snapping back up and yelling out for her. She only barked louder, followed by a pained whimper. The pitiful sound shot a spike of alertness into Paul’s core. He yelled out again as he ran but the dog had gone quiet. Fear was shoving his senses into full throttle and he bolted to his doorstep.

When he finally arrived, he was struck still. The droplets of water now moved in slow motion, the biting cold a distant memory. His dread filled the void left by his other senses.

A figure was curled up on his doorstep, Martha nudging gently. With a rough nudge and a nip at the hair, the figure's head tilted into the dim porchlight. The aquiline nose and auburn hair of his John was illuminated. His mouth just barely open, eyes softly closed.

All Paul could do was stare in shock and horror. The world was thrown out of pause when a trickle of water sent a shiver down his spine. He was suddenly aware the rain had picked back up and the cold was whirled up with a nasty wind.

Words were leaving his lips but he didn't know what he was saying or why he was talking. All he knew was that he had to get John inside. Martha, bless her, was ahead of Paul, biting on to John’s collar and pulling him towards the door.

In a flurry of movement, the door was thrown open and John was dragged across the threshold. With a deep huff of breath, Paul lifted John into his arms. “John? Johnny, come on, please!”

He continued to plead as he rushed to the nearest couch. Once laid out, John let out a groan before curling into a ball again. He was shivering like mad, nearly vibrating off the couch. 

“Hey, you’re alright,” Paul cooed softly as he stripped John of his soaking wet clothes. “Can you talk to me?”

“Where- wherewereyou.” His words rushed together in an airy gust before his teeth began to chatter.

Snatching up every blanket in eyesight, Paul wrapped him up into a tight bundle. “Do you need an ambulance? Should I call-”

“‘S fine.” His eyes cautiously opened, lulling around the room until they found Paul. “Where were you?”

“I’m phoning the ambulance,” Paul decided. He moved to leave John’s side but felt a strangely strong grip pull him back. He fell onto the cushion, sitting by John’s hip.

“I’m fine.” The words came out with a startling levelness, only to be followed by more chattering of his teeth.

Paul studied him, their eyes locked in battle. With a hum, Paul narrowed his gaze, “I’m getting you a warm washcloth.”

“Alright.”

Once a basin of hot water was filled and the fire was lit, Paul began his nursing. He fused over John as neither man uttered a word. Grabbing more covers and some pillows, Paul tucked him in tight and lifted his head to put down the pillows. All the while, Martha sat wearily at John’s feet.

Now thoroughly bundled, he ran fingertips along John’s temple and down to his jaw. “Sure you're alright?”

“I waited for you,” John said with malice, only to be betrayed by a faltering voice. Paul had not noticed the lingering smell of alcohol on his breath until just then. He was obviously no longer drunk, only sad and cold, but it must have taken a lot to pass out in the freezing storm.

“I was a Mal’s, love. Do you want a cup of tea? Or I could run a ba-”

“Stop!” John pushed at his mountain of covers and forced himself upright. “Get-” 

Paul grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him only to be pushed away. They both tumbled from the couch, hitting the hardwood with two distinct thuds. Martha let out a bark but didn’t move. 

Paul made to speak but as soon as he opened his mouth, John spat out, “Shut your bleeding trap and listen to me.”

His mouth was still hung open so he snapped it shut and gulped through a strained throat. John’s eyes danced viciously between his.

“I’m sorry! Alright? I’m sorry and I know I can never take it back but I am. I-” Tears were welling in his eyes. “It was so stupid. Stupid of me to try to shift the blame. Stupid of me to do it at all. But,” John’s hands were in his damp hair, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I love you.”

 John was breathing hard and Paul felt he wasn't breathing at all. There was a delicate sheet of glass creeping between them. A single mistake could shatter it to the ground and leave them bleeding. 

Much softer, slower, and steadier, John said, “You don’t have to forgive me. I don’t deserve it. Sure as hell don’t deserve you.” When Paul didn’t respond, John continued. “I was drunk when I came. Was quite intent on telling you off- maybe break a vase or two.” Paul huffed a pained laugh. “But I’m sober as I can be now. I just want you to… You should know how much I mean it when I say that I’m sorry. If you don’t want me any longer, that’s fine.”

The sheet of glass dissolved on the spot, melting into the wood and warming the space. There was a vague awareness of the short bursts of nervous laughter leaving his lips. All he could do was stare at the half-naked man on his floor that had just poured his heart out. He had no clue how much the thought of them being over had weighed on him until the moment the worry lifted away. Gathering himself for the sake of the confused Lennon, Paul scooted towards him and threw a cover over his shoulders. Biting hard on his own lip, Paul cupped John’s face with both hands. 

“You’re the stupidest man I have ever met.” He smiled with all the sincerity and adoration in his body.

“I’m what?”

Paul laughed again, nerves completely drained from it, his hands moving to John’s shoulder and head falling into his chest. He breathed in the man, pulling him between his legs to hug him tightly. His skin was still cold, his body still trembling. “First of all, that’s all you had to ever say. Second, I’m just glad you didn’t kill yourself in the cold.”

John nuzzled his nose into the crook of Paul’s neck. “I’m slightly offended that me not dying was your second point.”

Paul only held him closer. “I hate you so much. But you’ll always be the love of my life.”

[bestintheparsec]

The Same Coin - Part 4

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter out! I split one of the chapters into two (so this series will now have 8 chapters instead of 7), which is why this chapter is a bit shorter—the next one should be out soon after I post this one! I hope you like this one (things are coming soon😏), and as always I appreciate any feedback! Thank you for reading! 

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: angst, slow roast burn continues

Javier pushes the thin blanket off of himself, leaning over to light a cigarette. He shuts his eyes, taking a long drag before exhaling. He wants to forget a lot of things, but for the past two days it’s seemed like no amount of alcohol could drown out the thoughts of you. 

It shouldn't be like this. He shakes his head and rubs his face. You shouldn’t be there, taking up residence in his mind; the same way you shouldn’t have been in his room, so close to him that night. But there’s a thought that lingers in the crevices of his mind, whether or not he’s willing to admit it out loud. Maybe he had wanted you to stay that night. Asking you to do so would’ve pushed you both past an invisible line, one he doesn’t want you to cross—certainly not for him. He’s made his fair share of bad decisions that have gotten people hurt, and asking you to stay would’ve been another. Whatever it was that overcame him, it can’t and won’t happen again. The man you held that night isn’t someone who deserves to be comforted. He brushes off the nagging emotion—the one that’s wrapped him up and filled him with warmth for the entirety of the last forty-eight hours. He doesn’t deserve to be that man, the one who finds refuge in another. He tries to go back to a state of numbness, where he belongs.

The gentle hand that touches his shoulder almost makes him jump. “You’re thinking very loudly,” she muses. 

He turns to the woman. Her hair is messy, the long waves falling softly over her bare shoulders. She meets his eyes, smiling at him before sitting up and placing her other hand on his shoulder and massaging it. 

He wants this to be enough—the sensation of her warm skin on his, the feeling of release. He's not sure if it was ever enough. But when he loses himself in her arms, he doesn’t feel as safe as he did in yours that night. What the fuck has gotten into me? 

He doesn’t answer, instead pouring himself another glass of whiskey and sighing when the bottle runs empty. 

“It’s work, isn’t it?” she asks, curiously. 

“No,” he replies simply, turning away. I can’t even escape there. 

She smiles softly again, lightly caressing his face before getting out of bed to put her clothes back on.

He doesn’t meet her eyes but knows she’s watching him. “Is there anything I can do?” she asks, her tone teasing.

He puts the cigarette back to his lips, shaking his head. She slips her shoes on, taking her purse before leaving when he calls to her.

“Lina,” he murmurs. She turns to him.

Despite himself, his mind plays with the idea of being with someone for longer than just a night or two. He holds her gaze for a few moments, then looks away. “Nothing,” he finally whispers.

~

You’re sitting at your desk with your chin resting on your knuckle. It’s early so no one else is here yet, leaving you alone with your relentless thoughts. There’s plenty to do, but too many things have been keeping you up so you’re even more exhausted than usual. So much so that you don’t realize you’re dozing off until Steve sets his things down on his desk loudly, startling you.

He looks you in the eyes, giving you a tiny smirk. “Long weekend?” he asks, and you reply with only a groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

He grins. “Maybe we can all get drinks later or—” he starts, but stops when you suddenly drop your head and turn your attention back to the files in front of you.

He’s about to ask what the problem is when Javier comes up from behind him, setting his cup of coffee down. Javier acknowledges him with a nod but says nothing to you, pulling out his chair and sitting down, refusing to look at you. Steve watches the two of you, confused by the awkward silence. He raises his brows and shrugs, because what's new? He lets out a huff of air, slumping down in his own chair and getting to work.

You try to quell the unwelcome flushing of warmth in your face as you think back to that night. It took you most of the weekend to admit to yourself that you just might have felt something shift in yourself after those events. As much as it frustrates you, you can't get the image of Peña—his warm skin against yours, the static of his fingers brushing against your cheek—out of your head. You've tried to convince yourself it was just pity that took you in there, but it might be more than that—and that scares you. Whatever you’re feeling right now, it needs to stop. This isn’t what you’re here for, and there are a multitude of other things to worry about—things that don’t involve other DEA agents and your feelings for them. About them, not for them, you remind yourself. So why can’t you even look him in the eyes?

It was your decision to go into his room that night. It was a conscious choice, and you don’t regret it. You know how the long nights can wreak havoc on a person’s mind when they’ve seen the same things you have—if you’re able to support someone through it, you’ll do it every time. But that’s all this is, and it’s all it can be—he’s your partner, just like Steve is. You refuse to get attached, not when you live a life surrounded by danger; and especially not when Peña seems to throw himself in that path more often than everyone else. There’s already enough rules being broken around here, you may as well try to follow your own. 

You cast a sideways glance at him. He’s absent-mindedly working on the files at hand, resting his fingers against his temple and seemingly unaffected by your presence. You shouldn’t care, but you still wonder if it’s just you overanalyzing again—the thought that he’s unfazed bothers you, for a reason you can’t comprehend. Forcing yourself to look away, you decide that if Peña doesn’t care, then you don’t have to either.

~

Javier taps his fingers impatiently on the desk, waiting for an excuse to dip out—to anywhere. He gets the feeling you would love to do the same, although you’re usually better at staying composed than he is. But he watches your fingers play with the same loose button on your cardigan, and he almost wishes he had an excuse to offer you for that night. What is there to even say?

His attention is pried away from you when Trujillo marches over, whispering something about a phone call for him. Javier feels your concerned eyes on him as he walks away from his desk, and he feels even more guilty for not saying a word to you all day. You don't deserve to be ignored like this. But surely the silence is better than all the bickering that constantly made his blood pressure rise. He’s hardly paying attention to whatever Trujillo’s telling him now, shaking his head before picking up the phone.

~

Javier slings his leather jacket over his shoulder, walking towards his Jeep. He doesn’t ever tell himself he’s a good man—nor has he claimed to be one. Sometimes you have to do bad things to catch bad people. This thought repeats itself in his head as he starts the car, preparing to drive to meet this informant. Heat waves radiate off the concrete roads as he drives towards his destination. He’s worked with the man before, but only on more...official arrangements. Whatever he has to offer this time, there’s no doubt it’s going to be under-the-table, since it was made explicitly clear that Javier should come alone and with discretion. 

Everything he's done has been done with a single goal in mind—get Escobar. Time and time again, one wrong decision ends up with people being dead, or damaged beyond repair. The lines under his eyes and the heaviness that permanently lives in his chest are further proof that he needs to leave other people out of his decisions, if at all possible. He learned a long time ago that once you get into bed with monsters, you’re forced to live with them alone.

Somehow, this drags his thoughts back over to you. He could've stopped you from coming in that night—should've shut the damn door. It would’ve been easy—a simple “just go” and you wouldn’t have hesitated to leave. Javier swallows thickly when he realizes that maybe he left it open for a reason. He remembers his conversation with you on the bench, the day of the explosion. “It’s best not to be attached to anything, or anyone,” you’d said. He’d pretended not to notice when you let that slip, but if anything, it’s the one thing you both have in common. He knows better than to let himself get too close to anyone. But his mind keeps taking him back to the gentle look in your eyes before you wrapped your arms around him. To how, for once, he felt like he was being enveloped in something other than darkness. To the way he felt his fears and anxieties from that nightmare flee his body, if only for a short while. Because of you. Fuck. He hasn't known peace, not in a long time. He doesn't want to find it in another person. 

He grips the steering wheel a little tighter, turning his focus back onto the road. Familiar buildings pass by as he makes his way to the same convenient spot in a quieter part of town, a place he knows well. He can almost hear the comments you and Steve would have if you knew about this. But someone has to do what no one else will.

He sighs loudly. Javier knows he doesn't deserve to feel the sense of comfort that he did in your arms, but maybe...he wants to.

~

Upon Steve’s insistence, you all end up at a local bar after work, along with Connie. After a couple of rounds, Steve takes Connie’s hand and leads her to the center of the floor for a half-drunken slow dance, leaving you alone with Peña. It’s been another long day, and with neither of you having much to say, you stay quietly seated at the bar next to each other. Some upbeat music blares in the background, but it’s not loud enough to drown out your thoughts. Peña doesn’t seem to mind the ambiance, though. His posture’s relaxed as he watches Steve and Connie haphazardly holding onto each other on the other side of the bar. They laugh a lot, and you’re happy that Steve’s able to enjoy a moment of peace.

You’re not drunk yourself, but the alcohol makes you brave. Things will never go back to normal at work if you don’t address the elephant in the room, and you can’t take the silence anymore—not here, or at work. There’s been enough tension with the bosses lately, and that alone is enough to exhaust you.

You don’t really know how to bring up that night. “Peña, I’m—” you mumble. You start to busy yourself by playing with the strap on your purse.

“Look, we don’t have to do this,” he quickly interrupts with a wave of his hand, but his tone is gentle. You wrinkle your brows, peering at him and biting your lip. He’s still holding his glass, taking a drag on his cigarette before meeting your eyes, as if he’s contemplating what to say himself.

“I’m...sorry. For the other night,” he says quietly. “It won’t happen again. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this. You blink a few times and purse your lips, unsure of how to respond. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. I...get them, too. The bad dreams...” you start to ramble, massaging your fingers.

“That’s not what—” he stops and sighs. “I had too much to drink,” he mutters. 

Is he serious? You scoff with disbelief, meeting his eyes as you take a sip of your drink. “Too much to drink? Peña, you drink like it’s your job, those few glasses you had were hardly anything.” 

“I said we don’t need to talk about it,” he insists. He turns away and gestures for the bartender, asking for another glass. Why is he being like this? For fuck’s sake, you don’t expect him to pour his feelings out, but his stubbornness makes you want to scream sometimes.

“I just wanted to help,” you say, raising a hand in resignation. “I know I shouldn’t have...but you don't have to be alone,” you add quietly.

I don’t need any help with being alone. “I’m telling you it was nothing,” he reiterates, but his tone betrays his unease. He looks at you again and his eyes are almost pleading. “Please,” he whispers. 

You want to believe him, believe that it means nothing so you can stop thinking about it—if this is what he wants, you’ll oblige. But it hurts a little all the same. You had thought he would be more open about what happened, because things definitely feel different now and you haven't the slightest clue what you're supposed to do about it—or if you should do anything at all, especially considering you'd only recently become more civil with each other. You exhale quietly and drop the subject. The loud bar music is the only thing saving you from a biting silence as you both down your drinks. 

Javier slips off the bar stool when his phone starts to buzz. He could use the break right now, so he gladly takes the call, moving over to an empty corner of the bar to answer it.

“I’m glad you decided to answer,” the deep voice bellows.

“I told you not to call after hours,” Javier states firmly. “If we do this, we do it my way. You play by my rules, and that's one of them.”

“And I told you we have a common goal,” the man says. Javier stuffs his hand in his pocket, casually checking around him to make sure no one’s watching.

“Then why the hell are you calling me now?” He rubs his jaw with annoyance. “I thought the plan was settled.” 

“There’s been a slight change of plans. We need another person—one to infiltrate the party. Someone those bastards won’t be suspicious of.” With the phone to his ear, Javier watches Steve and Connie from across the room. His eyes soften just a little when Steve whispers something into her ear, making her smile. It passes quickly when he turns his attention back to the call.

Javier runs a hand through his hair, clenching his jaw. “Too bad. You’ve got me.”

“No, Agent Peña. If we don’t get someone off-the-radar in there, this won’t work.”

He glances over at you, sitting on the bar stool. You’re slouched over, nursing your drink and shaking your head when the bartender asks if you want another. He bites his lower lip. “Yeah, well, you’re not getting my other partner in on this,” Javier contends. 

“Come on, Peña. You know plenty of people—I’m sure you can find one who’s willing to help, for the right price.”

Javier frowns, momentarily reconsidering his decision to work with this asshole. He looks at you again, and then Steve, then to his shoes on the grimy tile floor.

“Yeah. I know someone,” he mutters, ending the call with a click.

~

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[refinedbuffoonery]

I + Can’t + Lose + You (4)

masterlist. AO3. 

Thank you so much for your patience with this one! There will be one more chapter after this before we reach the end of the road (ha!). I tried something new this chapter with the rapid POV shifts, so let me know what you think! 

*****

Tracking down the skip was almost too easy. Riley ran her facial recognition program through the city's traffic cameras, and two minutes later, Hector Pitt appeared strolling out of a McDonald's, large box of fries in hand. 

She and Mama had arrived in Phoenix a few hours before sunset. The dying sunlight cast a deep orange glow on the mountains rising in the distance. It was still hotter than hell outside, with no sign of impending relief, and sweat rolled down Riley's temples and between her breasts. She didn't understand why anyone would choose to live here. 

Mama called her daughter, Jesse, who was patrolling the east end of town and the suburbs beyond it, to let her know they located Pitt. 

He must’ve known Mama’s truck, because as soon as Riley pulled up to the McDonald’s, Pitt dove into his car and gunned the engine. “Why can’t this ever be easy?” Riley muttered. She sped off after Pitt, the tires squealing as the truck skidded around the corner.

*****

Mac arrived in Phoenix starving and bored out of his mind. He'd forgotten his snacks on the counter in the gas station in Indio, and his grumbling stomach reminded him of his mistake constantly. 

Knowing that Riley was probably safe eased the dread weighing heavy in his gut. There was no reason to fear what he might find at the end of the long desert highway, but he still couldn’t shake the desperation to see her, to touch her, to have her safe beside him. 

To tell her that he was in love with her, because while waiting seemed logical before, six hours of driving like a madman made the whole thing look ridiculous. What were they waiting for anyway? 

For them to get their shit together. For him to get his shit together. Riley was fine, always has been. Well, maybe not always, but close enough. 

What if they waited too long? What if it’s all just water under the bridge at this point? 

Mac was saved from answering that question by some asshole driving a red truck speeding past him on the wrong side of the road. A quick glance at the speedometer told Mac that he was already going ten miles per hour over the speed limit, and the other driver was going even faster. What the hell was their problem? 

Reaching out the window to flip them off, Mac glared at the driver. The woman had dark, curly hair and both hands clenched around the steering wheel. Another woman sat in the passenger seat. Mac couldn’t quite bring himself to laugh at how similar the woman’s driving was to Riley’s. 

Unless…

Shit. Was that Riley? The red truck swerved around a corner without slowing down—the way only someone with lots of experience in high-speed car chases would turn. Yep, Mac thought. Definitely Riley. 

He stepped on the gas, not daring to completely floor it until after he made the turn, and hauled ass in pursuit of the red truck.

*****

Riley was fuming. 

First, this asshole she passed flipped her off, and now he was following her? He wasn't doing a very good job of keeping up, but still. What the fuck? 

“This nerd sees one action movie and thinks he can be a getaway driver,” she snarled. “This isn’t NASCAR, buddy.” 

Mama gave her a look. “Isn’t that how you learned?” 

“Not the point.” Riley made another sudden turn. “Call Jesse and have her cut off Pitt. I’m gonna shake this guy.” 

*****

Reason number one why Mac was never the driver: he sucked at it. Riley was trying to lose him, and she was doing a damn good job. If he didn't know her well enough to somewhat predict her moves, Mac would've lost her already. This is what I get for flipping her off, he thought. 

Clearly she hadn't seen his face, or else this wouldn't be happening right now. With each turn, Mac lost a little ground. No cops yet, luckily, but it wouldn’t matter if he got stopped by cops because he was about to lose Riley again anyway. 

Mac wished he had Riley in the passenger seat, scouring a satellite view and directing him through the best route to catch, well, her. He couldn't remember ever not blindly trusting her to get him where he needed to be. Catching her was so much harder without her. Mac wondered if that was what she felt like when she chased him to fake-join Codex. 

A semi truck pulled into the road, blocking his view of Riley. By the time Mac skirted the truck, she was long gone, like she'd never been there at all. 

*****

“Got ‘em,” Riley said with a smirk when she finally lost their tail. Now they could get back to the important matter at hand: catching Pitt. 

Jesse’s voice crackled through Mama’s phone. “There’s an empty parking lot up ahead. We can corner him there.” 

“On it.” Riley floored the gas to get ahead and intercept him. 

Pitt took the bait, falling right into their trap. He cut through the parking lot to try and ditch Jesse and found himself blocked in by a certain oversized red truck with a woman aiming a rifle out the shotgun window. Mama shot his tires before he could try to leave. 

The man obviously knew when he lost, because with Mama aiming at him from the front and Jesse from behind, Pitt slowly got out of his car and kneeled on the ground, hands raised above his head. Grabbing the handcuffs from the truck’s glove compartment, Riley stalked toward the man and cuffed him. He was bigger than Riley expected, more muscular, and had oddly familiar calluses on his hands. Riley tucked the thought away for later and marched him to Mama’s truck. 

Mama didn’t lower her gun, but Riley wasn’t worried. Even if Pitt tried something and Mama had to shoot, Riley would be fine. Mama never missed. 

Once Pitt was secured in the backseat, Riley turned to the Colton women and grinned. That was easy.

*****

When Mac saw the red truck sitting in a nearly empty parking lot, he ran three red lights and skidded into the lot with abandon. Riley stood beside the truck with her back to him, but Mac didn’t need to see her face to know that was her; he’d recognize her posture and the shape of her body anywhere. She was chatting with two other women he couldn’t recognize from far away. 

As soon as his car came to a stop, Mac flung the door open and yelled Riley’s name. 

*****

Riley whipped her head around at the sound of her name. She did a double take when her eyes locked on Mac getting out of his truck—the same truck that had been tailing her, she realized—and running toward her. “What are you doing here?” she yelled back. 

His chest heaved, and a wild, frantic look filled his eyes. “Looking for you!” He stopped in front of her, well within her personal space. Mac reached for her arms and hesitated, waiting for her to flinch away like she’d been doing for weeks now. Instead, she softened her eyes and gave him an almost imperceptible nod. You can touch me, the look said. 

Mac’s grip on her biceps was heartbreakingly gentle. His voice cracked slightly as he spoke. “You said you were kidnapped.” 

Oh. “Mac,” she said softly, “it was a joke. I’m fine.” 

She’d never seen him look as furious as he did now, yanking his hands back like she’d burned him and taking a full step backward. “A joke? Are you fucking kidding me, Riley? What was I supposed to think when I got that text? All it said was ‘I’ve been kidnapped’ with ‘kidnapped’ spelled wrong for god’s sake, and then you didn’t answer when I texted and called you back!” 

Uh oh. “How many texts did you get?” 

“What?” 

“How many texts did you get?” she repeated. “I sent you two. One right after the other.” 

A beat. “One.” 

Oh god. He never got the second, more important text. She should’ve checked her phone. Damnit. Riley wanted to hug him, but fury still radiated off Mac, so she stayed back. “I’m so sorry. I accidentally hit send instead of delete while fixing my typo. I should’ve made sure the second text went through. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.” 

“When we couldn’t track your phone anymore, I—” He dragged his hands through his hair. “I thought I lost you. I was terrified I’d find you dead in someone’s trunk or thrown in a ditch somewhere. I thought I’d never get the chance to say—” No, no, no, no, not yet. Riley silently begged him not to confess yet. “—what I need to say.” She exhaled. 

Mac still hadn’t taken his eyes off her, hadn’t bothered to see who was standing behind her. “Look who’s behind me,” she gently guided. He did, and too many emotions to name crossed his face as he took in Mama and Jesse Colton. Then, before Riley knew what was happening, Mac practically tackled her, crushing her into his chest so tightly she could barely breathe. How they didn’t end up on the ground was beyond her. Riley hugged him back, murmuring apologies and reassurances into the crook of his neck. 

The only warning something was wrong was the loud squeak of one of Mama’s truck doors opening. 

“Get down!” 

Gunshots filled Riley’s ears as her back slammed into the side of the truck, and she slid to the ground. Mac crouched over her, providing cover from the bullets pinging off the asphalt. Mama and Jesse crouched behind Pitt’s car, returning fire. Fucking hell. 

“Forget to check him for weapons, did you?” Mac teased. “Who is this guy?” 

“Hector Pitt. IT guy. And I did check.” 

Mac gave her a look. “Did you check everywhere?” 

Furrowing her brow, Riley craned her neck to see Pitt shooting over the far side of the truck bed. He concentrated his fire toward the Coltons. “What do you mean ‘everywhere’? Of course I—” She glared at Mac. “I am not groping some random ass criminal on the off chance that he’s stupid enough to hide a loaded gun next to his dick.” 

“Just saying, this could have been avoided.” 

“Shut up and help me take him out already.” 

Slowly, Riley crawled into the truck’s backseat, frowning at the unlocked handcuffs on the floor. She opened the far door—the one closest to Pitt—just far enough to release the latch before laying back on the seats, pressing her feet against the door. Through the windshield, she watched Mac stroll around the front of the truck, right hand raised. Riley waited. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Trying to calm her thundering pulse. 

She didn’t dare blink. Inhale, exhale. What was taking so long? Inhale, exhale. 

Mac’s hand dropped, and Riley kicked the door open as hard as she could, and the sickening smack of metal against flesh told her it worked. Pitt’s unconscious body crumpled on the ground like a rag doll. While Mac disarmed him, Riley tied the man up with jumper cables and zip-ties before re-handcuffing him. 

Handing Pitt’s gun to Mama, Mac said, “There’s no way he’s actually an IT guy.” The women laughed.

*****

Despite their exhaustion, Mac and Riley decided to drive home instead of booking a hotel room for the night. They played Rock, Paper, Scissors to determine driving shifts; Mac got the first one. He promptly blasted his mission pump-up playlist and pointed the A/C vents directly at his face to keep himself awake.

The slivered moon did little to illuminate the dark desert highway, and headlights from oncoming cars stung his eyes. Mac’s stomach was heavy with the weight of the carne asada burrito he had for dinner and the words he still needed to say to the woman sitting in his passenger seat. He thought about saying those three little words. I love you. But now wasn’t the right time. 

When was the right time for anything? Mac honestly had no idea. 

He glanced at Riley, leaning against the window with her eyes closed. She wasn’t asleep, not with the music so loud, but Mac still envied her ability to relax so easily. He turned the music down a few notches. 

Safe. Riley was safe. In his truck, under his protection. Not that she needed his protection, per se, but Mac could breathe a little easier with the most important person in his life by his side. 

The double yellow line gave way to a passing zone, and the asshole who’d been tailing them for the last few miles sped by. Apparently fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit was too slow for them. “Fuck off,” Mac snarled. 

“Who are we telling to fuck off?” Riley cracked her eyes open. 

“The guy who just sped around me.” 

“Seems like that’s been happening to you a lot lately,” she teased. Right. In all the chaos of chasing Riley and taking out Pitt, Mac had completely forgotten about flipping her off. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Riley laughed, sitting up. “Are you kidding me? That was hilarious once I realized it was you!” 

“Glad you think so.” He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel, suddenly nervous. “Riles?” 

“Hmmm?” 

I love you. I'd be lost without you. Please don’t ever scare me like that again. 

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

[heychangbin]

Getaway Driver

Summary: You’re a get away driver for the checking place heist. 

Wordcount: 1514

Warnings: None really, it’s a pretty gen fic.

A/N: So this was a short story exercise that I liked how it turned out and since I haven’t posted any honest to god fics recently, thought it would be a good addition to my masterlist. So have a fic.

The engine quietly rumbled as it sat idle along the street, the sun was high in the sky as your eyes swept the street beyond the streaky windshield, the sidewalk was littered with pedestrians, strolling and going in and out of the various shops, the smell of boiled hotdogs, over salted beef, burt coffee, and freshly baked bread wafted through the cracked window. You drummed your thumbs on the steering wheel as your eyes jumped from the street to the rearview mirror, then to the side mirrors to check the street behind you, then to the countdown timer on your phone.

You shifted in your seat, hands gripping the wheel, foot poised over the gas pedal ready to zig zag down the road at a moment's notice.

With every second that passed you forced the tension in your shoulders down and scanned the street again.

The path from the checking store to the side door of the van was clear, the road was spotted with a handful of cars, the police scanner that was mounted on the dashboard clicked with a police call on the other side of the city when the guys burst through the door, making a run for the van and jumped in.

As soon as you heard the door shut your system flooded with adrenaline and you floored the gas, the familiar high helping you weaving between the cars as you peeled down the road, taking a sharp turn at the end of the road, taking every light at each intersection, swerving around honking cars and avoiding going onto the sidewalk. You rounded another corner and narrowly avoided slamming into the side of a tan sedan and going onto the sidewalk as people jumped out of the way.

“Keep it on the road!” came a muffled voice from behind you.

“Guess I should’ve just crashed into that car back there, huh?” you threw back as you took another turn

“Just get us to the warehouse alive.” he hissed

If you could afford the second it took to roll your eyes, you would have.

You were halfway to the safehouse when the police scanner clicked again, a description of the van coming through the small speaker with a “reckless driving heading east” attached to it, the radio clicked again with the closest unit responding that they were two minutes away.

You gripped the wheel harder as you swerved between cars, ignoring the muffled and panicked “we’re gonna get caught” and “i knew we shoulda waited for Paul”

“Shut up!” came a clearer and exasperated cry from Billy as he pulled the rubber mask from his face and made his way through the small space between the seats and let himself drop on the passenger side seat.

You chanced a glance at him and for a split second, despite the scars marring his face he was still so handsome. It had been awhile since you had last seen him, even before he had contacted you out of the blue, asking if you were available to drive a car for him. You weren’t strapped for cash but you never gave up a chance to work with Billy. It wasn’t the cash you were after but you had always been a fan of what came after working a job with Billy.

He radio gave a click as you passed an intersection, cars honking as you drove past, Billy pulling a gun from his waistband and resting it on his thigh.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” you hiss under your breath as you get closer and closer to the safehouse, your eyes jumping between the rearview mirror and the road ahead of you for any signs of blue and red lights.

“You’re doing fine, we’re almost there,” you hear from the seat beside you.

You turn the last corner, the wheels screeching as they drag against the asphalt and head down the empty street, the safehouse is within view when Billy pulls out a small walkie-talkie from his pocket, clicking the button on the side and giving the order to open the fence..

You saw the chain link fence swing and the door of the safehouse being open and swerved into the safehouse, slamming the brakes once you were inside and letting out a sigh of relief when the sound of the metal door clanged throughout the mostly empty warehouse.

The doors were thrown open and the guys exited the van, the guys in the back carrying the duffle bags out and throwing them on a nearby table and ripping off the rubber face masks. Billy made his way around the van and towards the guys that were standing around the table and pulling out the stacks of bills, sorting them into neat piles.

Once that was done, Billy stepped in and separated the money into even piles, pushing each pile towards one of the guys and saying,

“Now get outta here, I’ll call you guys when I have the next job lined up.”

The guys shoved their money into their respective bags, throwing a quick, “later boss,” over their shoulders as they walked to their respective cars and rolled out of the warehouse, leaving you and Billy alone in the warehouse.

“That was some good driving,” Billy said as he shoved the money into the remaining empty duffel bag, “We could use them again for the next job.”

“Yeah? Sure you don’t want Paul to be behind the wheel for the next job?” you tossed back as you leaned against the side of the van.

Billy let out a chuckle, the apple of his cheeks lifting and crinkling the corners of his eyes,

“I don't think Paul coulda made those turns without crashing.” he said as he closed the zipper, picking it up and walking over to where you were propped up against the van.

“He probably couldn’t.”

“So what do you say, want in on the next one?” he said, propping his arms on either side of you, caging you in and pressing close against you.

“Sure, sounds fun,” you pushed yourself off the van and closed the distance between you, your lips pressing against his in a slow kiss, “and I wouldn’t be able to do that if you go to prison.”

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“No, we wouldn’t.” you said against his lips as he pushed himself against you, his arms wrapping around your body. His fingers slipping under the edge of your shirt, his fingers digging into the skin of your back.

Every inch of your body felt like it was on fire, your heart was beating wildly in your chest, the sound of rushing blood filled your ears as his tongue ran against the seam of your lips, teasing your mouth open, deepening the kiss. His hand ran down your leg, curling his hand on the crook of your knee, lifting and hitching it around his waist, pressing closer, his hips slowly rubbing against you, before pulling away.

“We should get going.”

“Yeah,” you murmured as you looked into his dark eyes, the want evident in their depths making your body pulse with lust.

He walked over to the table, picking up the bag and making his way to the last car, an old ‘00 tan corolla that was there, throwing the duffle bag in the trunk before making his way to the large warehouse door. You followed behind him, taking your place behind the wheel and driving the car out and closing it behind you then climbing into the passengers side, pulling up the hood of his sweater over his head and pushing the back of the seat down, obscuring himself from the outside.

You drove out slowly, stopping only to lock the chain link fence, the heavy chain clinking against the metal fence and clicking the large lock in before driving off, taking each turn carefully and deliberately.

You made it onto the main road, tensing when you saw a police cruisers a few cars ahead of you at the intersection, the side roads closed off by blue police roadblocks, an officer standing at the intersection and peering into each car and waving them over.  

Billy pulled a pair of large blocky sunglasses from the pocket of his jacket and perched them on his nose.

When you rolled up the officer peered into the car, his eyes scanning your face and glanced over to the passenger side. In an attempt to distract him you asked,

“What's with the roadblocks officer?”

“Some guys just held up a checking place and made a run to this side of the city,” he looked over at Billy again, “Hey buddy, lower your sunglasses.”

“He just had an eye exam, sir, his pupils are dilated and the sun hurts his eyes.”

The officer looked back to you,

“Does it?” he looked back at Billy, waving his finger, “lower the shade buddy.”

Billy turned toward the officer, pushing the glasses down the bridge of his nose, you saw the cop peer at Billy, his brow furrowing for a moment, then waving you through.

You eased your foot onto the gas and rolled away, the tension in your shoulders melting away as you left the cop and the checkpoint behind you.

Taglist: Gen:  @juguitos @something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @the-blind-assassin-12​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @bts-smolarmy​ @elanor-of-imladris​ @pheedraws​ @obscurilicious​ @fific7​

Billy Russo: @nananananananananananabatman​ @shinebrightlikeafanbase​​ @emyyjemyy @agswitch

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