#it’s more like streams and showers type deal

[buboloboogie]

Happy Suck Saturday Eve!!! Have sum more shitty trad doodles to celebrate :3

[pha55ed]

Is It Casual Now? || F2 (good ending)

type :: hurt/comfort tw/cw :: none contains :: ollie, kimi, paul, arthur, summary :: after getting heart broken by the boys, you're shattered. but the space between you two make him realize how dumb he was being - PART 1 HERE

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

Ollie Bearman | 03

After watching you run into your house with tears streaming down your face - Ollie instantly felt a pang in his heart. But he wasn't sure what it was. He thought it was just empathy, he always hated seeing you upset, so knowing he caused the pain was harsh on his heart. But, he thought it was for the better.

He didn't want to risk ruining your friendship. You were basically part of his family and entire life. Dating you would mean risking a nasty break up which would permanently change everything. His family loves you, if you broke up they would most likely side with you instead of Ollie. You got along with all of his friends, dating would change the entire group's dynamic. And even worse, if you did ever break up on bad terms: Ollie knew he would be shattered.

But his entire thought process was proven to be stupid. Saying no to your confession made all of those fears come true. You needed space from Ollie, to heal from the embarrassment and hurt you felt. While Ollie was dealing with every fear he tried to prevent by rejecting you.

So he did what he knew he needed to do: chase you down and get you to come back into his life. He learned that he needed you more than anyone else, even his own family. Once he finally put together all the dots, he came to your house a week later and knocked on your door.

But you weren't done healing yet, still puffy-eyed and snotty from crying your heart out. Like a true heart broken girl, you ordered some take-out to eat whilst sobbing. You didn't bother to check the cameras outside, assuming it was just the delivery man.

So imagine your shock when you're met with a driver, but not a delivery driver. Instead it was Ollie, looming over you with his height as he was holding a large box filled with gifts of your favorite things. But you couldn't ever get a peak at the box, since you instantly tried to slam the door shut - not wanting to see Ollie whilst looking like a mess.

But you weren't able to shut the door since his large hand pushed against your force. So now you were stuck there, looking up at him in week old pajamas and messy hair while he looked even more handsome than usual. You peaked at the gift bundle he made you - filled with your favorite snacks, flower legos, face masks, and almost every makeup and skincare product that you've ever talked about wanting.

"Please?" Ollie said, his voice soft. "I know I'm a jerk for rejecting you, and I don't expect you to forgive me or accept my confession but - I just want to give you something..." He said, looking at you with no pity in his eyes but instead a look of yearning.

"I don't need the gift," you say, not wanting to give in so easily. You wanted to say something cool, to reject his confession. But in your current state, it was going to impossible to fake confidence and reject him while looking homeless. "But um... thank you?" You said, unsure of how to reply to him.

"No no, please take the gift" Ollie said, pushing the door further as he handed you the gift bundle. And by pushing the door further open, you wanted to go curl up in a ball and hide - you looked horrendous.

And as Ollie looked at you, you could see his face soften even more. "When's the last time you showered? Or cleaned your face? Or gone outfside???"

All of his questions were way too embarrassing to answer. And as if the universe was doing it's best to give you a 13th reason, the delivery man came up to the door. The delivery man stood directly by Ollie and for some fucking reason he began to read out your order.

"Two cheese burgers with extra cheese, large fries, large sundae, side of chicken nuggets, and a soda?" The delivery man said, before putting the food into Ollie's arms and went off on his marry way. The man probably assumed you were sharing the meal... Ouch.

And as Ollie held the food, looking at you in such poor shape, he gave a small smile. "Can I have some?? And maybe help you tidy up?" And who were you to deny him any longer.

Kimi Antonelli | 04

It's been almost a month since you talked to Kimi. The interaction left you cringing in your head for hours on end, no matter the time or place. Although you loved learning Italian, it was impossible for you to do lately since you couldn't even speak it without feeling your throat close up from the thought of Kimi.

But luckily, you were able to heal with the time. You weren't over him, not quite yet, but you were able to focus on yourself for the time being. So you wanted to treat yourself out, going on a small shopping spree. Getting new clothes, makeup, even cute blind-boxes that you knew was a waste of money.

So when you came home, only to be met with a huge bouquet on your doorsteps, you were shocked. You put all your shopping bags down and picked up the large rose bouquet. And instantly, your eyes widened as you read the small card that was attached to it.

"Please unblock me. I miss you and want to make things right. But I understand if you don't feel comfortable. - lots of love, Kimi"

You completely forgot that you blocked Kimi on instinct! You felt like an idiot. All those nights you spent crying, hoping he would text you back and take it all back weren't able to happen because you blocked him. Without hesitation, you unblocked his number - getting hit with over 500 messages. If someone didn't know what was happening, they would have assumed you had some crazy ex boyfriend.

As you scrolled through the messages, you were met with paragraph after paragraph with apologies, begging to meet up, and more apologies. It made you feel awful to know that you were grieving over Kimi for no reason when he literally was sending the most heartfelt messages ever.

But you were hesitant. How could Kimi be so cruel and laugh in your face at the idea of dating only to spam you and beg for you. It was such a fast 180 that you were hesitant. So you agreed to meet up at your old favorite Italian restaurant in a few days.

As you sat down in front of Kimi, who seemed to arrive an hour early since the drinks and appetizers were already prepared. You felt your heart sting just at the sight at him. It made you feel the urge to cry yet again, even though you worked hard to become more confident without him - he just softened your heart.

And it seemed like he felt the same, he was absolutely star struck at the sight of you. His jaw was left hanging slightly, his eyes were sparkling with either tears or admiration, and his chest didn't move - you literally caught his breathe.

His breathe so stuck in his throat that he couldn't even speak, so you had to break the silence. "Um, hi?" You said awkwardly.

"Hi." He said, finally taking a breathe. "Um,,," He hesitates to dive too fast into the topic. "I got your favorite appetizers,, you should eat it before it's cold."

You simply nod, taking note of his care. He watches as you eat and you feel so awkward. "So uh, what did you want to talk about?"

"Well, I wanted to apologize - not really talk." He started, "I realized that what I did was so so SO stupid. Ever since you've been gone, everything has been so different. I can't eat anywhere we liked, can't go parties without them asking where you are - I can't even see my family without them asking where you are!" His voice got louder slightly at his annoyance at himself.

You just sat there listening, giving him time to say everything he needed. He continued, "And I kept trying to convince myself that I didn't need you and that we weren't serious, but who am I kidding, of course we were dating. I just never asked you to be mine and I feel so stupid for that! And then once you left it made me realize how much I missed you, now much I needed you."

As he spoke, rambling at an extremely fast pace, you realized he's been holding this in for a while. The way that his face and voice were still so angry at himself made it clear that he's not forgiven himself. But you were still wondering if he was trying to get forgiveness or actually date you.

"And then I got kind of depressed... I wasn't going out anymore, not working out, not socializing. And I guess my final breaking point was when my sister," He pauses, thinking back to what happened, "My sister asked where you were, and when you would play with her again, and I just - I just broke then and there" His fast rambling came to a halt as he looked down in shame for being so weak in front of his sister. "And um, as dumb as it sounds, she was the main person to encourage me to get you back."

You were always close with his little sister, playing dolls and dress up with her. She always wished she had a sister, especially since Kimi was only into masculine hobbies. You were that older sister that she's always dreamed of, so it broke her heart to not see you for so long. Now you felt even worse, knowing that she probably just thought you left her for no reason - not even saying good bye to her.

"I'm not trying to use her to guilt you. I'm just being honest. But I realized everything I did wrong. I'm sorry for saying I would never date you, I can't name a single person better than you. I'm sorry for leading you on for ages and never putting a title on us, I was just, scared, I guess. I wasn't confident in myself and just assumed you were too good for him - that my flirting was all one sided." He says, making you realize you didn't ever flirt with him back - it was mainly him.

And that when it clicked in your head, he was slightly right. You never once called him amore back, never reached for his touch in public, never once started anything romantic. He most likely saw this was him pining after you while you were just going with the flow. So now you felt like an even bigger asshole.

"Kimi," You spoke for once, "I'm so sorry that you went through all of that, I felt the same way. I do like you, that's why I asked in the first place."

"I realized that now. And I feel so stupid for what I did." He said, "Please let me make it up to you."

Paul Aron | 17

Going to the paddock has never been more nerve racking. Not because you were preparing for your home race, but because you would see Paul. You've been able to ignore him and leave him alone thanks to your extreme luck. But now you were forced to be with him for interviews, photos, and race discussions.

Once you arrived, your plan was to just say that you were having a tummy ache or head ache. Some type of pain that was bad enough to excuse you from doing your duties but not bad enough for them to tell you couldn't race. But before you could even speak to anyone - he was right there, in front of you.

You knew you should have come an hour or more early just to avoid him, but you overslept on accident. So now you were stuck standing their awkwardly as you looked up at him. You gave a small head nod, a sign of acknowledgement but also a sign of not wanting to speak to him.

But you knew Paul was stubborn, always the type to fight until he got what he wanted. So he just stood there and shook his head. "Nope," He said, "You can't ignore me forever. It's been 4 WEEKS (Y/N)."

You were avoiding his gaze, not wanting to look at him after how embarrassing it was to get rejected. You knew it was immature but you genuinely weren't sure how to respond to him, giving him a weak shrug as you kept your head turned away from him.

"(Y/N), please." He said, his hand reached forward and he held your chin gently, pulling your face to look at him. And that's when you saw how sincere he looked, as if he was in pain. His voice didn't convey his emotions, but his eyes surely did.

"What?" You say, not wanting to assume too quickly that he actually missed you as a person, "You want to fuck or something?" Trying to seem tough, as if his words from the weeks before didn't shatter you.

"No." He instantly said, his lack of hesitation made you surprised slightly. "I want to talk, tell you everything."

"About what?" You say, still trying your best to hide the fact that your heart was racing. You desperately wanted it to be good news, but that last time you hoped for good news it ended with you both splitting paths.

"You." He stared at you, "You, for fuck sakes, you. It's all I've thought about since, forever. I'm so so sorry, I'm sorry for being such an idiot when it comes to you. I know that we promised to not catch feelings and just be friends with benefits, but if I'm being honest I fell for you a LONG time ago."

His confession was shocking to you. If he fell for you first then why would he reject you? Why didn't he confess to you first? It was nice to hear him say he liked you back, but you were still lost.

"But I didn't think it was possible because - and I know it's so cheesy and embarrassing but - I know I'm not the best guy out there. So I thought that maybe just staying friends with benefits until I became someone I'm proud of would be smart. So I could be the perfect guy that you deserved and so when you confessed I just didn't feel ready and wanted to seem cool but I ended up sounding like a dick head-"

You cut him off by giving him a tight hug. Although you wanted to kiss him to shut up, his fast rambling made it impossible to get a good spot to kiss him. Your hug around him was tight, as tight as you could possibly give him. Telling him that you didn't care, that you wanted him as he was right now. And that even if he wasn't proud of himself yet, you were.

And he understood perfectly, giving you a tight squeeze back. He couldn't help but smile and kiss the top of your head. His large hands then slipped out of the hug and held both sides of your waist.

"I promise, once we're both not busy, I'll take you out on a nice date - one that's honest." He said, looking at you with a new light in his eyes.

Arthur Leclerc | 65

I'm gonna be so fr I don't know how to redeem Arthur... I've been stuck for weeks...... So if you have ideas, send it! But for now uh, you guys are still broken up LOLLL

[nakahras]

᯽ mr. loverman • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • you have a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day and to top it off you can’t even go to the one person you’d want to since he’s out of town. or, at least, you thought so.

warnings • intentional lower case, reader has a nightmare of a roommate, cursing, the use of the pet names doll/baby, chuuya being the gossip he is, fem!reader, nsfw, oral (m -> f), nipple/breast play, some nasty shit is said, masturbation (m), fingering, teasing, slight overstim, idk this is some depraved shit honestly

wc • 4k

a/n • i started this when i was having the worst day ever and just wanted boyfriend chuuya :( i cannot be blamed for the smut idk who wrote that but it wasn’t me

you want to scream — to be more accurate you want to off someone, yourself or someone else, either would suffice. unfortunately you stick to screaming, it would cause you less issues. you lift one of the many pillows on your bed and promptly screech your throat raw into the expensive pillow. your head feels as though it’s going to explode just thinking about how your day has gone.

you thought february 29th was supposed to be a lucky day? an extra day in a leap year meant luck, didn’t it? well in your case it didn’t feel very lucky. not at all, actually. in fact you were sure today was a curse. you woke up late, so, your day was off to a bad start from the beginning. your roommate forgot to pay the electricity bill, again, so you had to take a cold shower and couldn’t even make coffee. you stopped at your favorite coffee shop and not only did they get your order wrong but someone bumped into you on your rush to the train station. there was coffee everywhere. every. where.

thanks to the coffee spill you missed your morning train. which normally wouldn’t be a huge deal, except for the fact that you had an early staff meeting. you try to text your coworker that you were running behind but because your roommate forgot to put the payment in for electricity, your phone didn’t charge and died. you don’t even get your message out. you wanted to cry. luckily the train was early and you made it to work just in time.

you thought maybe you had seen the worst of it. your karma surely couldn’t be that bad, right?

wrong.

you work as a nurse in cardiology. you had not one, not two, but three people code on you. it always came in threes. three emergency services calls. three rounds of performing cpr. three separate incident reports to type out. you were exhausted by the end of the day.

you almost cried again when your favorite coworker offers you a ride home. he was a saint in disguise and you told him so. a literal gift from heaven. you promise him a homemade lunch in return and he waves you off as you climb out of the car. when you get to your apartment you’re pleasantly surprised to see your roommate cleaning. a rare occasion.

the electricity is back on too so you take the opportunity to enjoy a relaxing bath and some wine. you thought, once again, maybe the worst was over.

wrong. again.

when you got out of the bathroom you thought you vaguely heard chatter but chalked it up to a show your roommate was probably watching. you change into a t-shirt, skipping a bra because it’s just you and your roommate at home, and a pair of sleeping shorts that barely cover anything. when you walk out with your headphones on you’re stunned to see 3 strangers in your home.

your roommate looks at you like you’re the crazy one. like she isn’t the one that didn’t warn you about the company. you double check then triple check your phone. nope, not a single text for warning. you awkwardly wave and consider digging a hole and living in it when she introduces one of the strangers as her new boyfriend. in that moment you want to perish, cease from existing altogether.

you don’t even get a chance to grab your food before you’re making a half assed excuse to step away and run back to your room.

you’re now laying on your bed, letting tears of frustration stream down your face. you can’t even call the one person who would make it all better. your boyfriend was away for a business trip. you didn’t want to accidentally interrupt something important. you knew he would drop everything

your boyfriend also has this freaky 6th sense, like he can always tell when you’re thinking of him. so, you’re not surprised when your phone begins to ring and you’re met with his contact photo. you let out a sigh and pick up.

“chuuya…” you breathe out. you sound terrible, you know you do, but you can’t bring yourself to even care to mask it.

you can hear vague rustling in the background before chuuya is speaking. “you don’t sound okay. what’s wrong?”

you start crying again. how does he do that? he always seems to know when you need him most. right now was definitely one of those times. you wish he could actually be there. you missed his warm and safe embrace.

“i’m not. i had a really shitty day and i feel so ridiculous about how much it’s getting to me…” you let out a humorless laugh at how pathetic you feel saying that out loud. you’re throwing a fit over a bad day. who does that?

and all you wanted was for chuuya to be here. but you couldn’t tell him that, if you did he would dismiss everything and come running. then you would feel bad about coming between him and his work. you let out a frustrated sigh.

you can practically hear the frown on chuuya’s face when he speaks. “you wanna tell me ‘bout it? i’ll listen. or is there something else i can do to make you feel better?”

you don’t deserve him. you think to yourself.

moments like this make you really think about how chuuya deserves way more than what you can give him. you go days at a time without talking to him because of school and work. you lock yourself in your room and ignore the world outside just to keep up with your school work. you know it’s unfair to chuuya even if you always do give him a warning. he is always incredibly understanding over it that you almost cry out of guilt. he even brings you meals and hydration packs to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

things like this remind you just how selfish you can be when it comes to him. all you want is him. but are you allowed to even feel like that when he’s away for work — a good reason by the way, much better than your own. he never complains when you need space so why would you? to you the answer is simple, you won’t complain.

of course, chuuya sees it differently. he knows that if you didn’t have to cut everyone off to focus on your work you wouldn’t. but your mind doesn’t work like that and he gets it. does he miss you when you have to take a break from reality? absolutely, but he doesn’t complain because he already knows how bad you feel about it.

so instead of saying ‘yes, i need you’ like you want to you let out another sigh. “how much work do you have left today?”

”funny you ask me that, doll. i finished everything early today.” chuuya chuckles when he can practically see the way you perk up.

you still hesitate when you ask, “does that mean you're coming back to yokohama early?”

the port mafia executive smiles widely at just how adorable he finds you. the way you still get so shy to ask him things that should be a given. chuuya adores you and couldn’t imagine spending his now free time with anyone other than you. so, of course he took the opportunity to get back as soon as possible. apparently his timing was impeccable because from the sound of it, you could use a break.

chuuya was already on his way to your apartment. it was supposed to be a surprise, but he figures since he’s already almost there…

“why don’t you pack a bag and come down to find out for yourself, hm?” he lets out another chuckle when your excited squeal finds it’s way onto his side of the phone.

you quickly grab your small duffle and stuff some essentials into it. you have a drawer at chuuyas jam packed with clothing already and a whole second set of your favorite hygiene products so you only need to grab a few things. you pack your laptop and a couple articles of your comfier clothing. you change quickly, stuffing your legs into some jeans and actually putting on a bra underneath your t-shirt.

you grab your phone where chuuya is still on the line. “okay, all packed. should i come down now?”

“yeah, your surprise should be there any minute.” chuuya pulls up to the front of your building as he says those words and can’t help the pleased smile on his face.

you chuckle and shake your head. “my surprise, huh wonder what it could-“ you’re cut off when your roommate calls out your name questioningly in your rush to get out of the door. your eye twitches when you’re reminded of the randoms in your apartment but put on a smile anyways. “it was so nice meeting you guys, sorry i can’t stay but my boyfriend came back into town early so i’m gonna go see him. bye.”

you don’t miss the way your roommate perks up at the mention of chuuya. “oh? chuuya is here? you should invite him up. i would love to see him.

“i’m sure you would. he’s tired though. maybe some other time.” you grit your teeth and smile sweetly. you don’t wait for a response as you practically run out the door and lock it behind you.

you huff and then remember chuuya is on the other side of the phone still, you grimace realizing he heard the whole thing. “sorry…”

“didn’t know i was so tired.” chuuya laughs as you let out a groan.

you catch the elevator before the doors close from someone just getting out and stab at the button to the ground floor. “i’m tired of their shit, therefore, you’re tired too. plus did you really wanna sit through another awkward meal where my roommate dotes on you. god and her new boyfriend was there. can you imagine how uncomfortable that would be? gross. i don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

“someone’s actually insane enough to agree to date her? condolences to whoever that guy is.” chuuya’s voice drips with genuine surprise.

you let out a giggle at how scandalized your boyfriend sounds. “you’re telling me she doesn’t pique your interest, sunshine?”

he chuckles and you can practically hear the eye roll from his end of the line. “nah, my girl is the only one for me.”

you’re walking out of the elevator when you stop in your tracks for a moment. it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been with him, when chuuya calls you his girl it makes you melt. your brain malfunctions a little and it makes you really think about how you truly are all his.

without hesitation you breathe out an “i love you.” before moving forward to the entrance of your building.

“i love you.” it’s instantaneous, his answer.

chuuya never has to think twice about telling you how much he adores you. he is immutably in love with you. there was no doubt in his mind and, even though it took some time for you to believe so, there was no longer a single doubt in your mind either. chuuya had made certain that you would never question it.

you make it to the entrance. the moment you open the door you’re welcomed with the sight of chuuya leaning against his car. his phone is still up to his ear as his grin widens upon seeing you.

you drop your hand and phone from your ear and hang up before rushing over to the ginger. you drop your duffle bag near the car before jumping into the executive's arms. he was anticipating the impact and caught you with ease.

the bicolor eyed man holds you tightly and you bury your face in his neck. his soft hair tickles your face but you couldn’t care less. you take in a deep breath and his scent envelopes you and all the tension your body had been previously holding completely dissipates.

your voice is muffled when you say, “i missed you, so much.”

“i missed you too.”

you both stand there in each other’s arms for a few more seconds before chuuya sets you down. he grabs your bag from the ground and opens the passenger door for you. you thank him and climb in. your boyfriend wastes no time placing your bag on the backseat and slipping into the drivers side.

the ginger takes you to your favorite take out restaurant and you order all of your favorites. when you get back to his penthouse you set up his couch into a lounge bed and get ready to watch one of your favorite movies. while you’re doing that, chuuya is pouring you both a glass of wine.

you’re happily munching on your food and sipping on your wine when chuuya hits you with. “you should move in.”

your head snaps back to look up at him, your brow is furrowed and you give him a confused look. “we haven’t talked about it before. are you being serious right now?”

“completely.” he doesn’t even look at you, his tone so nonchalant and you’re just gaping at him.

you set your drink and food aside and shift off of chuuya. he’s about to complain until you sit yourself on his lap straddling his waist and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. you pluck the remote from his hand and turn over your shoulder to pause the movie. you wanted to make sure you had his undivided attention (you always did).

you study him for a moment before responding. “are you sure?”

“yes. i have 2 extra rooms that aren’t being used. we don’t have to share a bedroom yet and you would still have a separate office space. c’mon, doll, let me get you out of that nightmare of an apartment.” chuuya reaches up and tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

he did that on purpose. you know he did. the way he caresses your face with his always surprisingly soft fingers is unfair. he knows how distracting it is to you.

you try to process what he says but it takes you quite a bit longer than it should have but it doesn’t take you long to make your decision. “…okay.” it comes out whispered.

“okay?” chuuya asks you incredulously like he was actually expecting you to reject his offer.

you nod your head with a blush creeping up your face. “yes, okay. i’ll move in with you.

chuuya can’t help himself and presses his hands across your back to bring you into him. his lips crash into yours and you share a moment of pure bliss. his lips meld perfectly with yours. he tastes of peppermint and grapes. the taste increases as his tongue slips past your lips and tangles with your own. you let out a short gasp at the sudden intrusion but melt into him anyways.

you both stay like that for a few minutes. your hips begin to stutter on their own. your breaths and gasps and quiet moans fill the atmosphere. chuuya’s hands have found their way under your shirt and he’s already playing with the band of your bra. his fingers expertly undo the clasps and hands glide across your now naked back.

your lungs scream at you. you want more of him but you have to oblige your body’s need for air. you part from his lips and rest your forehead on his own, breath mixing together as you both pant for air.

chuuya only gives you a moment, hips still moving into his when he grabs at your hair and gently pulls your head back so he can trail kisses down your neck. it takes all of his self control to not bite your soft skin. per your request, he’s always careful not to leave marks on areas that would be visible in your scrubs. this is the one instance where his need to please you outweighs his need to be possessive.

if chuuya had it his way, he would make everyone aware of just how much you are his. for your sake, though, he reigns in that side of himself. he supposes he’ll just have to show the world you’re his in different ways. like in the form of a key, and in the form of a ring he has stashed away in the far corners of his closet, and maybe even some day in the form of his child.

chuuya’s brought back to reality by the sound of your voice. he hadn’t even realized that your positions had switched. you were panting underneath him, face flushed, and — fuck — you look so gorgeous like this. you were always beautiful. but having you like this, something only he got to see always made something primal in him stir.

you huff and grab ahold of the ginger’s face. his mind was obviously elsewhere. “chuuya. listen to me. what are you doing?”

chuuya’s eyes, which had glazed over, somewhat clear from the fog. he smiles at you as he lowers himself further down your body and lifts your shirt to press kisses to your stomach. you let out a whine, ready to complain about him still not listening.

“relax, baby, i’m helping you relieve some stress.” chuuya draws soothing circles into your skin then, without waiting for your response his hands travel to your pajama pants to untie them.

your hand shoots out to stop him, still panting and slightly dazed. “what about you?”

“don’t worry about me. i can take care of myself while i take care of you.” he says it so unabashedly you can’t bring yourself to question him.

then your head starts spinning. the thought of him touching himself while taking care of you is so incredibly hot it ignites your entire body on fire. there’s no longer a single thought in your head that doesn’t involve chuuya’s mouth, his lips, his tongue, his hands, his fingers. you need it all.

you reach out and card your fingers through the gravity manipulator’s silky hair. he hums at the action and takes it as his sign to continue. his fingers work quickly, undoing the ribbon and hooking around both the elastic of the pants and your panties. his movements are so fluid and fast you can hardly keep up. your bottom half is completely bare but he’s not satisfied there.

his hand slides up underneath your shirt and through the valley of your breasts. he watches intently as your shirt slowly rides up to expose your breasts. his fingers ghost over each mound briefly before they’re sliding down your body again and gripping at your thighs, holding them open.

“so damn pretty.” chuuya hums and his eyes flit up to gaze up at your flushed face. “do me a favor, baby? play with those perfect tits of yours for me, won’t you?”

his voice is sickly sweet and smooth like honey. you’re so enamored by the sound that you almost don’t hear him. his expectant look is what starts up the wheels in your head to turn. his words process and your hands move on their own accord. you start kneading at your chest while maintaining eye contact with his bicolored eyes.

chuuya groans. “god, doll. look at you. playin’ with yourself like that. ‘s sexy as hell- you’re sexy as hell.”

“chuuya…” you let out a whine. your patience thinning by the second as you wiggle your ass for any chance at friction.

your boyfriend lets out a chuckle. “okay, okay. think i’ve made you wait long enough, hm? deserve a reward for all the hell you were put through today.”

chuuya, once again, doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he’s dipping his head down to get face to face with your already slick cunt. his tongue is quick as he runs it up and down your folds. you feel him sigh in relief against you, like this is the first meal he’s had in days. it might as well be with how much he craved you when he was away.

although, he was focused on you — focused on making this all about you — chuuya knows if he doesn’t make good on his word of relieving himself you’ll never let him hear the end of it. who is he to deny himself the added pleasure when you’re demanding it of him. so, chuuya lets go of one of your thighs to fumble with his belt and free his strained cock from its confines.

you vaguely watch his arm move. your attention wavering as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks. your back arches and hands squeeze at your breasts in surprise as you moan out his name.

chuuya smirks, absolutely pleased by the reactions he elicits from you. his hand that freed his cock moves to collect some of the wetness that’s steadily dripping out of you. once he’s satisfied with the amount he lowers his hand and uses your slick as lube to touch himself.

you try to comment on it but your mouth isn’t working right. the only thing that comes out is, “chuuya~ so good. ‘s so- fuck- so good…”

chuuya groans, clearly enjoying this as much as you are. his hips start to stutter as he lets go of your other thigh to gather more of your juices in that hand. his mouth it still making expert work of your clit while his fingers are closing in on your entrance. he teases you a little, circling the hole a few times before slowly pushing in two of his lithe fingers.

your head is thrown back as a slew of cursed moans falls from your lips. this time chuuya lets out a moan of his own when he feels your walls fluttering around his fingers already. his hand being used on himself starts pumping faster, his cheeks hollowing more frequently and fingers start sliding in and out of you at an alarming rate.

he’s close, you realize. he’s close and wants you to cum before him. you aid him in his endeavor by rolling your nipples between your fingers then squeezing slightly to pinch them. the added sensation makes your whole body twitch.

“f-fuck, fuck, fuck. chuuya, gonna cum~ ‘s too much. gonna-“ a euphoric wave crashes over you and you let out an embarrassing squeal like moan as your vision spots and ears rings.

chuuya’s slurps while lapping up at your orgasm are insanely lewd and the noise alone is enough to send him crashing as well. what really does him in is the sight before him. your eyes rolling back into your head and mouth hanging open. he moans deeply, from his chest, and spills into his hand. he pumps himself a few more times until he’s twitching from the overstimulation.

chuuya laps up every last drop your cunt has to offer while you come down from that amazing high and catch your breath. when he’s happy with his clean up he rests his cheek on your thigh. you prop yourself up to look at him. he looks so angelic, hair slightly tousled from your fingers running through it earlier, face glistening from your juices and face flushed. chuuya smiles at you then turns his head to leave sweet kisses on your inner thigh.

you let your head hang back before groaning. he was going to be the death of you. you knew he wasn’t finished with you by a long shot.

“we have plenty of time to do this when i move in.” you whine.

chuuya lets out an elated laugh. “so, when are we moving you in? tomorrow?”

you let out a genuinely amused laugh, shaking your head at his eagerness.

[yanderemommabean]

Yandere red room idea

The Red rooms. It’s not something He really thought he’d find himself using but here he is, walking up the corridor with a key card in his pocket. It’s definitely a secret society type of deal, code words, secret hand gestures, one use keys, all the security one could imagine. The first time he even heard of such a place like this, he assumed it was dark internet fetish mumbo jumbo. 

But after he found you, well, the right people found him and led him to the right place. Not a room of pain, but one of pleasure, to show his darling all of his intense love and emotion and then some. 

He hasn’t even booked a room yet, he’s here as a sort of consultation visit. To see if he really has the balls to do this and show that yes, he adores you, and that his love outweighs anyone else’s. 

Sliding the card into the door brought him into an empty room besides a desk, a few chairs, and two large filing cabinets. He takes a look around, quickly surveying the area, before stepping inside fully and sitting in the chair facing the large office chair in front of him. Before he can let his shoulders relax, a man follows in behind him, followed by a woman as well, both dressed professionally and seeming very…happy. 

“Ah! It’s good to see you, Mr-” 

“Lee, you can just call me Lee. And you are?” He asks, gesturing to the woman standing beside the man in the suit as he begins to open a manilla envelope, spreading the papers out on the table. 

“Victoria. We can leave it at that. I can tell that you know secrecy and customer privacy are our top priority with this business” She says with a knowing smile, sliding the papers over to face them towards the doctor.

“Now, Lee, What we have here is a very basic outline of what we can do for you and that love bug you’ve found yourself. We celebrate rather than punish our loved ones here, and want them to understand that to their core! We find that the red room experience helps!” The man exclaims with excitement, but has yet to really introduce himself. 

Lee was told to expect that however. The leader behind this all was kind enough to reach out but he wasn’t to expect anything too personal. “All business” was his very aura, and Lee could respect that. He nods along as Victoria took the reigns, explaining some of their core beliefs before getting to what Lee really wanted to know. 

“We can make the room however you please, lease it for up to four days at a time with personnel who checks in every four hours with their own special keys, for the darlings sake. As much as we wish to fully trust our customers, we will not take the risk of them dying or being seriously injured in any way. As stated, this is a way to show love and we give you the tools to do so! “ Victoria then spreads apart the papers, pointing here and there as she explains a bit more, intriguing Lee with every bit. “We have romantic layouts like at a hotel, we have BDSM specialist rooms, we have very highly rated toys and devices that we inspect and clean before each room is ready, and we have a live stream option if you’re the type who thinks everyone should see the pleasure you’re darling is receiving! I personally recommend the tribbing machines with the black rose theme if you prefer the dom and sub type of vibe, but we can personalize however you like!” 

Huh. Wow. They’re very thorough aren’t they? 

The business man nods, sitting back in his seat as he adjusts his tie. “I started many companies in my life, all based on bringing smiles and joy, and it’s my personal belief that there needs to be a company looking out for your lover! Love, adventurous or more mellow, is a beautiful thing that our darlings need to be showered in as much as possible. If you’d like, this can also be set up in a way to just calmly express your love to your darling, but I will clarify that it isn’t guaranteed to go well…I advise getting our crews to pick them up and deliver them for you, with every person being given a  background check of course! Safety and security is what comes first for your darling” 

Lee was a bit flabbergasted to say the least. They talk so professionally, have such a strange ethic to them, and they act as if he’s about to buy a company or large house rather than finally get ahold of the love of his life. It’s…Odd but charming. He can’t say he’s turned away from this, in fact he has a few ideas for his own red room. 

“Are they CPR trained and do they have basic first aid knowledge?” Lee asks as he looks over some more of the photos, liking the array of toys they had up for use to add to the room, each one costing extra of course but for what he had planned…it wouldn’t be too bad. 

Victoria smirks, laughing lightly in amusement “I can see we’ve caught even more of your attention. We can make sure these personnel are trained for the pick up, but our permanent staff are already trained in first aid help and some, even small surgical emergencies. You know, always needing to be prepared and all”. 

They talk  a few more things out, Lee deciding that if these people were serious, then he could trust them. If they crossed him in any way, he’d easily rid at least a handful of them. He didn’t get that gut feeling he usually does when people are lying to him however. This felt thorough and legit and well…Professional. 

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you Mr Lee. We’ll be getting in touch with you shortly! You wont regret setting this up-” the business man says with a firm handshake, smiling in an almost uncanny way. “And remember, when you’re in a bind, one of our smiles will ease your mind"

-Mommabean (This was so silly but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!)

[idanceuntilidie]

Honestly I have no idea if this is good but it sat so long in my docs... Anyway enjoy and Im gonna take a shower :3 gn reader x yandere catboy warnings: mentiones of yandere behaviour and murder

„My little piece of heaven”

Your fingers gracefully typed the document that you have worked on for a good few weeks smiling proudly. The end of this horrible work is so near, the victory sweet on your tongue.

A loud crash followed by “waaah! y/n!” pulled you out of your thoughts. You cringed at the sound of glass shattering, the painful noise sending shivers down your spine. You exhaled deeply, collecting your thoughts and rethinking your life choices. Hoisting yourself up from the couch you walk to the kitchen to see what had been broken. AGAIN. You liked living alone, at first. After a few months it got really tiring, your head was too loud, music and TV didn’t help much, of course you did hang out with your friends but you always ended up being so tired by the end of the meeting. They even rarely visited you. You were slowly getting sick of yourself, so like a rational adult you decided to go to the therapist to see how you can get better. He gave you some pills, and you two agreed to meet every few weeks. Your head was much quieter but then you just felt lonely.

This time you turned to your friends, and one of them, Ana, said that it would be a good idea to adopt a hybrid. You weren’t confident that it was such a good idea but gave in. You always liked cats, so adopting a cat hybrid was your goal.

You were met with a pair of big glossed over green eyes in the kitchen and you sigh. Carefully you crouch next to the broken cup and the boy. You still can’t believe you both are the same age, he is much smaller and sometimes acts like a baby. “Y/NNNNNN what took you so long?” he whimpered, wiping the tears that had stained his cheeks. They were rosy red, just like his nose and the area around his eyes. You could tell he was crying for some time. You felt guilt boiling in your stomach, so you started to clean the mess he made.

That’s when you noticed the blood.

Cursing under your breath you look at him again, just to see him clutching one of his hands tightly. The crimson liquid seeping into the pretty beige and pink sweater of his. Slowly turning it red. The sight and smell of blood makes you dizzy, but you still ask for him to show his hand to you. He does it almost immediately, eyes filling with tears and lips quivering.

“Oh Gosh Amaris, you are hurt! Why didn’t you say so earlier?” “Wah! I am so sorry Y/N, I didn’t want to worry you even more..” you wiped the tears that were now again streaming down his cheeks. Amaris visibly relaxed when your hand made contact with his skin.

You found Amaris on the street, he was weak,, cold and beat up. You took him in and took great care of him. You two made a deal that when he gets better he will go, look at you guys now. He never left, so you could say you adopted a hybrid. He wasn’t the strongest or the biggest but he was really sweet. You can’t help but wonder how in the world he survived on the streets.

You help him clean the wounds. 

He couldn’t really stomach the sight of blood all that well so you tried your best to tell him stories or talk with him in general which helped a lot.

He smiled and giggled, cheeks dusting with p

There was a part of you that missed being alone, but it was nice to have some company.

“The fuck you mean you couldn’t kill em?!”

Amaris hissed. 

There was a panicked muffle on the other side, someone desperately tried to explain themselves.

“Shut the fuck up, what do I even pay you for you useless bag of meat?”

He groans circling around the room. How can people that he himself hired be so utterly useless? The floorboards creaked under his weight, and he froze. Nothing. He went back to circling. Well, nothing if you don’t count the desperate crying on the phone, which slowly but surely starts to get on his nerves. 

“If you won’t get rid of them until dawn you can say bye bye to your family.”

He hung up, his hands gripping the phone, breaking it in half and throwing it out of the balcony. The echo of it crashing Getting rid of the evidence, it is important, he doesn't care about the cops but you. God knows what would happen if you found out his little secret. His little mate needs to stay as dumb and obedient like always. Amaris walked back into your shared apartment, straight to your bedroom. He didn’t need the light  to see your sleeping form. You looked adorable like always, he crouched next to your bed. Adorable. He liked watching you when you slept, when he stared at you for longer he could catch what he was missing during the day. The color of your lips, your pretty little eyelashes. The moles on your body and face. Little scars he made, or you got by accident. He also likes to kiss those, the excitement that you could wake up and see what he is doing spurring him on in his actions. There is no fun without risk.

Amaris smiled at you, his little piece of heaven. Only his forever and ever.

[hailuchiha]

Unhappy Accident

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

!! MINORS DNI !!

!! 18 + NSFW CONTENT!!

!! ALL characters involved are ADULTS ; NO minor characters!!

Summary: Sasuke returned home early from a mission and overheard strange sounds. He saw something that he can never forget.

prompt filled for this anon ask

incest; sibling incest; some drama; accidental voyeurism; smut; surprise/shock; funny/notfunny; can be read as a comedy of sorts lol; if you like seeing sasuke suffer; only all uchiha 'kids' are suffering 1st hand embarrassment;

Unhappy Accident

Sasuke was eager to get home and get all the grime and dirt off of himself. While he'd finished the mission earlier than expected, it didn't mean it had been a walk in the park.

After giving mission report to the Hokage, he quickly made his way home. It didn't surprise him to come to an empty house and not even having his mother around. His father was busy as the head of the police chief, and his mother also kept herself busy with various activities or local missions. As for his older siblings, they were probably off on their own missions or relaxing with somewhere in the village if they had a day off.

Sasuke had just placed his shoes on the stand near the entrance and exchanged them for house slippers when he heard a muffled crash from above. His immediate reaction wasn't to go on alert mode, as he figured one of his siblings was up in their room and had simply knocked something over. Although, he did think it was weird, as both of them weren't the careless type...

After a moment, he heard a faint groan- definitely big sister- before some weird shuffling came through. Then there was another thud and he could tell something fell to the floor, followed by a pained whine from her.

Till now, Sasuke had frozen in place as he heard the sounds. But curiosity and fear made him rush soundlessly up the stairs. Big sister may not usually be careless, but whatever she was doing now could get her hurt. What if she already was hurt and just had nobody to come to her aid?

To his surprise the sounds were coming from Itachi's room. What was she doing in there?

Ignoring the warning signals in his head telling him to slow down, he rushed in, calling out her name. After all, this was his sister. If there was an intruder, Sasuke was more than capable of dealing with him or her.

"Big sister are you-!"

Only, once he stormed into the room, he couldn't really figure out what was going on.

Or, more accurately, his mind didn't immediately want to comprehend what he was seeing.

For one, he'd been wrong. Big sister wasn't the only one home- big brother was too.

They were both sprawled on Itachi's futon, the sheets messed about around them, and vase lay broken where it had crashed down from the low table near their feet.

Oh, and they were also completely naked.

They all stared at each other- Sasuke from Itachi to their sister, and them both looking at him- in silent horror for a long moment.

Then, without breaking eye contact, Itachi resumed thrusting, as if daring Sasuke to say something. Sasuke caught a glimpse of panic on his sister's face, before she bit her lip and hid her face against Itachi's shoulder, who was blanketing her with his body, her hands rested on his broad shoulders.

"Close the door on your way out, Sasuke," Itachi's voice sounded calm if not for the slight strain.

Without a word and unable to even blink, Sasuke slowly backed out of the room, remembering only at the last moment to reach out with a trembling hand and shut the door behind him.

A few minutes later, he was stood under the hot stream of the shower, staring blankly at the wall, trying to ignore his aching cock which refused to go down since the moment his mind had caught up with what his eyes had seen his siblings doing.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, turning the knob all the way to cold. He shuddered violently, felt his teeth begin to chatter, but it was worth it. He really didn't wanna touch himself to images of them doing it of all people.

[yril-writes]

— SHOWER ME WITH LOVE!

scenario ; married au?! How would they express their love and affection to you? Especially when you ask them to?

type ; headcanon

include/s ; ushijima, bokuto, sawamura, kuroo

pairing/s ; character x gn! reader

genre ; fluff, comedy, a mountain full of corn

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

Would probably take you to their hometown and go for a nice hike in the mountains.

Well it could be troublesome to do so, but having the time away from his volleyball career is good enough, since you begged him to pay attention to you, his partner as well. And he listened.

Having a dip in a hot spring is good as well, the stress being removed from all over you, and try to loosen up a bit!

It doesn't look like it, but Ushijima himself enjoys it to an extent. He is more like an action type of guy instead of charming you with his words, since the he isn't that bright at that part at the very least.

After the hot spring, he would give you a massage. Now, wearing robes and now clothing underneath it feels as if it's much free and easy to move around.

A nice refreshing vacation, and Ushijima giving you a massage + pampering you until you fall asleep.

"Just close your eyes and get lost to the feeling, you feel your body loosening up and the sound of the water streams calms you down..."

Well, of course he wouldn't come up with this plan without Tendou helping him out!

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

Bokuto would pamper you with love and affection, it's just that he forgets that it's about you and only you only.

He would take you to the zoo, a zoo date on a hot summer day. Of course.

This man loves birds, that he admires them and goes in an awe. He does this until he gets tired staring at them, as if having an eye staring contest.

Some may say that he is a little bit childish, well they are not wrong there. But Bokuto means good, he really dedicates this date to you and only you.

"I know you're kind of tired with the birds and all, but wait until you see your favorite animal!"

Despite this hot day, you got to see your favorite animal. This then puts a smile on your face. Looking at Bokuto back he grins to himself like his proud of what his done.

You asked to be pampered, and you've got your 50 percent pamper after you mostly pampered him on the way home. Well, we can't blame the man who is clearly obsessed with birds who still wanted to explore more species of it.

SAWAMURA DAICHI

His idea of showering you with love is charming you with his cooking skills. He wasn't that much of a good cook until you thought him before.

Now he knows how to even watch complex cooking tutorials with you teaching him all the roundabouts for a beginner cook.

"The way to my partner is to their stomach!"

Sawamura then placed a bunch of different dishes which you weren't even familiar with. He even made big servings out of it.

Well, he was confident enough that with the both of you eating it all nothing is impossible. He took a huge bite then he did it again and again just by the looks of it he is well satisfied by his cooking.

When you got to have your first bite, you immediately praised him and admired his cooking skills. He was shocked and happy to hear you praise him. He let out a huge grin.

With his food, this was enough for you to feel how much he means it when he loves cooking for you.

KUROO TETSUROU

He would rather pamper a cat rather than pampering a clingy dog, he said. But right now you are both, in need of attention and some of that tender loving care from your husband.

"Hon, I can't believe you're actually behaving like a sassy cat and at the same time a persistent pup."

With that being said, you laid down his thighs as he watches the television. You asked to be petted on your head and kissed on your forehead whenever you asked him to, and he does it.

He was actually getting tired of it, until you started pouting. Of course, he was bothered by it. Started to apologize and even made a greater deal than ever before.

And that is, Kuroo has to say 'I love you' every time he kisses your forehead. It was a funny sight to see but to be pampered like this with so much love and attention how can you not resist.

a/n ; yes! I wanted to make this a fluff instead since I want some comfort to read!

taglist ; @sammushy @gcj-doesart @ryuuudesuwa @jasugoi

check my masterlist if you want more, click on my pfp!

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): The Composer [28]

My favorite analogy to use in times of uncertainty comes from my dad. He once told me, "We're just two little frogs on a lone lily pad, floating down some hidden bayou in the swamps of New Orleans, Ducks. And that's okay, because at least we have each other."

It stuck with me throughout most of my life. When the depression was really rough, when the anxiety hit its peak, I'd scribble that line in notebooks. In pencil on my walls, erase the words when I felt whole again. Etch it onto my arm in pen, then scrub away at my skin for hours in the shower that same night.

For that reason, I feel like we can attach ourselves not only to people, but to words too. Which is why I find myself debating going and writing those words again and again and again in the emptiness of my apartment.

The week leading up to Ash's departure to Anaheim flew by. She and I unpacked, organized, and lazed about our home without seeing Sal, Larry, Todd, or Neil all that much.

That was fine, she and I preferred to figure things out on our own anyway.

The issue came with the moment Ash left in the early morning on Friday, after we'd had Sal and Larry over the night before.

I was left to my own devices, which meant all I could do was think about how much I've been drowning in myself. For months.

What's weighed on me most is Sal. I was never supposed to like him— it was never supposed to be more than simple attraction. I feel like I've failed myself and dragged Sal into something he wants nothing to do with. Feeling this way seems so cruel. He's his own person, he has his own shit to deal with. Why did I let it get this far?

For the entire day, I've sat here and told myself— scolded myself— that I need to calm things down and I need to get over this. Not just for me, but for him. Situationships, friends with benefits... those types of things do not end in relationships. They don't turn into happily ever afters. Me and Sal are nothing alike— I wouldn't even dare consider a relationship but if my feelings go far enough, I just might start to.

There needs to be some separation for myself. I need to put some distance, but I just don't want to. I genuinely like being around him.

Oh, this is such a clusterfuck.

I lay on me and Ash's couch, staring out of the huge windows that lead to the balcony as the sun goes down. It's evening. The silence is loud around me, messes with my senses. I keep thinking I see things out of the corner of my eye and every creak or crack of people moving around above or below me sets my heart racing.

Ash informed me that she'd be back by tomorrow morning, which is fine. I streamed for a few hours, ate dinner, then did some shopping to snuff out my Sal-centered thoughts, and then the unsettling quiet. I just didn't realize how anxious I'd get about being here alone once the moon took the sun's place in the sky. 

It's not my first time being alone. When I lived with dad, I was alone most of the time. But this apartment is still unfamiliar to me. Being in a new place that doesn't quite feel like a home yet is perturbing. 

The sky grows a little too dark for my liking, so I grab the remote and turn on the TV, flinching when the volume startles me. Anything to suffocate the silence that lurks around the dark corners of this room though.

I glance over my shoulder, making eye contact with the dark hallway that looks back at me. Shadows dance around the edges of the vignette, mocking my fear. I'm worried that if I watch for too long, I may really see something staring back.

And I thought my tiny, barely there feelings for Sal were scary. All that needs to be done to reset my mind is put me in an empty room, I guess.

Turning my gaze back to the TV, I try to focus on The Crow. All the gothic notes and emotional aspects try to distract me... but I quickly learn that even my favorite movie and Brandon Lee's ethereal beauty can't steal me from reality.

I'm restless. I can't stay here a moment longer.

Sighing, I sit up and gaze at the hardwood floor. Dad's not home-- I could go back to my old apartment, but that's a fifteen minute drive. That's a last resort. I would go to Todd and Neil's, but they're over in San Francisco to watch Todd's favorite musical. 

That leaves me with Larry. 

Can I bear to be in Sal's presence with all the turmoil in my head? I don't know, but I can't figure it out until I try. Not to mention, knowing him, he'll be locked up in his room anyway.

Me and Sal's conversation last week made me feel a bit more secure. I know things can continue the way they have been and I don't have to worry about anything else, I just have to work on getting past exactly how much I feel now. The fact that we had to had to have that conversation at all is embarrassing-- even if he told me that it was okay. It feels so stupid to me now that it's all over. It feels even more ridiculous that I apparently haven't learned a thing and still want to put distance between us.

I stand up and grab my keys from the kitchen counter before shutting off the TV. Then, I'm out the front door like a bat out of hell. The quiet was overpowering me-- having such a big place is so eerie when it's just me.

In my diluted panic, I make it to Sal and Larry's apartment in record time-- hoping and praying that they'll let me stay.

I pick up my pace once I reach their floor, bounding up to the door and knocking. Each corner feels like it's leering, hiding evil that lurks everywhere I go. It's unbearable and I just can't be alone.

That, or maybe some depraved part of me just wants to Sal.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I tap my foot against the carpeted floor and try to pretend that I've got it together. I do anything to get rid of the adrenaline rushing through me. Readjust my mask, pick at invisible lint on my shirt, crack all of my fingers, look up and down both sides of the hallway stretching around me. It feels like I wait for hours even though it's merely seconds until the door opens.

My eyes snap upward, gazing into the eyeholes of Sal's prosthetic. He holds it against his face with a hand, the straps dangling at the sides. It's clear I've caught him off guard.

"Vi?" He asks, tone suggesting he's both confused and alert by my sudden presence. I watch him glance down the hallway the same way I just did. 

When he looks back at me, he has an eyebrow raised inquisitively. 

"Uh," I choke out, remembering that I kind of have to tell him why I'm here. "Is Larry here? I wanted to hang out. The, um, silence is... loud." I rush to explain myself, knowing full well that I don't have to explain myself to anyone.

But Sal looks like he gets it though, his gaze softening in understanding as the words leave me. 

"Larry isn't here," He tells me forthright. My heart drops at the news. "He went to Anaheim with Ash. Didn't she tell you?"

I hum bashfully, embarrassed at myself and the circumstances as I shake my head.

"Sorry for bothering," I say with a sigh, trying to hype myself up to brave the quietude and darkness.

A beat of tense silence passes between us as I build up the mental strength, already feeling like I'm rotting in the lonely apartment back upstairs. 

Then, Sal mutters, "You can stay if you want, so long as you don't mind me practicing. And don't make me regret inviting you in."

I watch him watch me, both of us hesitant and unsure. But what's more unbearable than being around him (which hasn't been all too bad lately) is being alone.

I clear my throat lightly then look down at my feet, nodding. "Okay, thanks."

I may come to regret this.

Sal leads me into the apartment, his slightly taller figure blurring as I take in the living room and kitchen I helped unpack just a week ago now. To replace all the boxes and uncertainty is a kind of clean organization that I just know Larry had nothing to do with.

Sal spruced up. It's orderly, uncluttered, and so him. It works because Larry isn't much different.

The climbing living room walls have various band, tour, and festival posters, records, guitars, a bass, signed drum covers. It's a metal-head's dream. There's just a little touch that screams 'this-is-the-house-of-a-streamer,' which happens to be the multi-colored LED's on the ceiling. But I'll give them a pass for that one.

Regardless, it's nice. And the kitchen, while not completely decked out, is doctor's office-level pristine.

I purse my lips, feeling a little apprehensive. This might be the first time Sal and I have been in each other's presence without a plan for sex or something related to it. We're just... hanging out. It's weird, but I'm desperate enough to put up with it at this point. 

Sal's out of my way already, settled on one of the black sofa's with his flashy red guitar nestled on his lap and a laptop in front of him. Oh, and the prosthetic is gone.

My eyes train onto his pretty face. With all of this moving, I've hardly been able to see it. As crazy as it is, it's kind of been killing me. This recent revelation of mine has led to this insatiable urge to look at him constantly. I thought it was bad before, when this was all just a meaningless crush, but now...

I swallow past my raging thoughts. I've had enough to think about today.

Following Sal's lead, I plop down onto the adjacent, larger sofa-- right in the middle of it. I stare at the dark television and subtly gaze around the room in search of a remote. I'll be damned if I sit here with him in silence like this. Once again, I would much rather hot box in a car full of Larry's tamale farts.

Sal's head tilts upward in my peripheral so I look at him. He looks at me, his azure eyes surveying me before leaning over to a little table between the sofa's. He grabs a remote, then an Xbox controller and tosses them to me.

"You can play something if you want. Just switch to HDMI 2," he offers, turning his attention back to his guitar, strumming a quiet note. His brows furrow and he bites down on his bottom lip, shakes his head lightly. Those hypnotizing cerulean locks fall past his shoulders and shield his handsome face from me. His hair has grown in the past few months, hanging at least an inch past his shoulder by now--

--and that is not the point of why I'm here.

I murmur a quick thanks and lean over to grab the controllers, switching on the TV and finding my way to Sal and Larry's shared console.

There's a selection of games on here, some I've played, others that are on my TBP list (like TBR, but instead of to-be-read, it's to-be-played).

I hover around the Resident Evil 4 remake. For the past few weeks, I've been telling myself I'm saving up for it. I brought it up to Ash a couple days ago and she gave me a funny look then proceeded to remind me that, with my streaming career, I have around $4,000 in my bank account right now. I don't need to save for once, I can just get it.

Except I panicked and said I have to keep all my money in case of an emergency... so having disposable income is still new to me and I have no idea how to handle it.

I click on the game, biting down the excited grin that tries to build on my face.

I start a new game and nearly crap myself, doing my fangirl job by raving over the updated graphics and Leon's lore-accurate hair color.

For about an hour, Sal and I don't even spare glances at each other. It's nice, chill-- just two... acquaintances... in each other's presence without having to talk to enjoy their company. I play RE4 and he strums away on his guitar. A couple times, I become entranced by the melody he plays. Each time he plays longer, it starts to come together. Around the second time he played more than a couple notes, I realized he was composing. Creating a tune. Whatever you want to call it. 

While a musician myself, I've mostly worked on covers of songs. I've only tried to write my own music a couple times and even then, I realized it was tough work. Watching Sal now-- how long it takes him to come up with all the notes and lengths for just one chord-- I do not envy him, but I do admire him. He's putting a lot of work into it, clicking away on his laptop when he finds something he likes.

Each second of him working on his music steals me away from my game though. I start getting antsy, missing infected people even if they're right in front of me in the game. Hell, I walked Leon into a wall two minutes ago.

I grit my teeth as I navigate through the village, heart beating out of my chest with every corner I turn because a horde of zombies is going to be on me any second now.

I need to be prepared, need to get all of these questions out of my head.

"You're making a song?" I ask Sal, staring at the screen in front of me with my knees pulled up to my chest.

Sal hums in acknowledgment, distracted by whatever he's messing with on the computer. "Yea. Has to do with that Twitter leak." His voice is soft, hoarse. I'm shocked he even answered me with how focused he is.

Ah, yea. That leak. Ash and I didn't hear from Sal or Larry for two days after they rushed out of our apartment. When they finally popped up yesterday to help us with some more unpacking, they briefly mentioned something about 'damage control' and 'whistleblowing bastards.' Don't know how that has anything to do with whistleblowing, but those were Larry's words, of course.

I nod lightly, dragging Leon to a ladder. "I take it you don't want to give me the drama on that leak?" I guess, stealing a glance his way. Damn his pretty hair and equally as pretty face.

As I'm glancing, he shrugs, bright eyes darting across his laptop. The color of his irises is enhanced by the blue light of the screen-- I hate him. "There's not much drama to give," he murmurs, clicking on something. Then, he sits back, his eyes snapping to me. "The leak was the bridge to this song. I've been fixing it up and messing around with it. I had a producer with me a couple weeks ago, he took a picture of my screen. The back of my head was in it and it inevitably got out. What are people supposed to think when this is the title?"

He flips the laptop to me and I lean forward, squinting my eyes to look at the screen. There's a lot of graphing and multicolored lines that look overwhelming as hell-- but I focus in on the bold words at the top of all the mess. "DAC COLLAB."

I pinch my lips together in a guilty smile. "Ah, so that's the mess. That fucking sucks," I tell him as he pulls the laptop back to him.

Tongue in cheek, he tilts his head to the side as if to say 'whatever.' He at least seems unbothered by the whole thing now. "It is what it is. It's going to be released at some point anyway. North was going to make an announcement next month when we'd made a little more progress. Damn asshole at that studio just did the job for us, I guess." He seethes a bit on the last sentence, brows pinching together. 

I hum contemplatively, eyes trailing over his hands as they press into his guitar before I look back at my game. "I wouldn't let it bother you too much. You still get to make the song, still profit from it."

A tiny grin pulls at Sal's lips. "True," he says nonchalantly. 

Silence builds around us, our conversation having fallen off rather than ending. We're still learning. Awkward moments have to come along here and there.

Doesn't stop me from getting killed within the following moments though. I'm so stressed about making things work with him and me... I shouldn't have started the damn game. 

"I'll make you a deal," Sal suddenly pipes up when I get mauled a second time.

Growling frustratedly to myself, I pause the game and turn to him, waiting for him to continue.

He shakes his hair out of his face, letting me see all of him. He sets his elbows on his knees, showing off the veins in his forearms and the map of tattoos that trail up his skin just to disappear beneath the sleeves of his shirt. 

I take a fortifying breath.

"Come listen to this and I'll help you past this part." He juts his chin toward the TV before looking back at me.

I shrug. Why not?

"Okay," I accept his proposal, scooting down the sofa toward where he is. His tattooed fingers type away on the keyboard before he turns the laptop so we can both see the screen.

"My taste is a little harder than what Dark Autumn Complex usually puts out, but I think we're getting somewhere," he tells me and for a moment, I wonder why he's trying to explain the music to me before I've even heard it. Is he nervous?

I simply nod my head. If I say something, he may get even more freaked out. I'm fighting for my spot on earth right now, man.

He presses the space bar then leans back, letting me listen.

I flinch when I hear the opening-- he wasn't kidding. It's similar to what the band usually does, but there's something sinister and death-metal-ish about the instrumentals. Sal seems to have a lot of control over the sound here. The double electric guitar, and heavy bass from a literal bass but drums too says enough. It's veering off the path that DAC usually takes.

Just because it's a little different doesn't mean it isn't damn good though. It's really good. Sal's cooking up a five course meal on his laptop here.

"Life slips by In the blink of an eye, Dripping through the gaps In my hand which saps This eternal time lapse Of brutality.

Prophesy each of my regrets; My mistakes chosen by the oracle. A fool making bets With possibilities so rhetorical."

I grin at the lyrics, at the sound, everything. I look over at Sal and he has a little smile on his face too, his expression so heavenly when his eyes meet mine. 

"This is--" I start to say, but Sal cuts me off.

"Shut up. Listen," he whispers. So I do.

"An artist of malice-- My muse of persuasion. Drink from my crimson chalice, Submit to the composer's pervasion.

Aren't we friends? This anguish and me. Gaze through the rose-tinted lens, Ignore the razor blade's sharp plea."

I blink, the smile falling from my lips in record time. Just days ago, Sal asked me that question. 'Aren't we friends?' There have been so many coincidences with this band. So many, in fact, that I genuinely thought Sal and North were the same person at one time.

There's more to this than what I've been told.

"You work close with them, don't you?" I ask, tuning out the rest of the song for now. If he tries to shut me up again, I'll shove a finger down his throat.

Sal doesn't look at me as he chews on the inside of his cheek. And-- wait... is he... blushing?

"Caught that, huh?" He asks, pausing the song but still refusing to look at me.

My eyes widen at his admission. "What exactly do you do with them?" I ask quickly, leaning back a little bit as a thousand and one theories pop into my head. Is he going to tell me that he is North? That he's been hiding behind that name all this time?

And if he is, would I finally tell him that I'm Lexi? 

If North is Sal, a lot of things are going to change.

Sal's tongue swipes along his bottom lip. "I write every single one of their songs," he says, nodding to himself. "They put it together, make music with it."

Oh. I got ahead of myself again.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as my body suddenly grows warm with shame. It's time I put that theory to rest. 

I furrow my brows though, thinking back on the lyrics. "Look," I start warily, "I don't want to seem full of myself or crazy or anything, but I swear--"

Sal shakes his head, his dimple forming on his cheek as a bashful smile grows on his lips. "You're not crazy. I hate that you correlated it, but... there are a few lyrics inspired by some of our interactions. When things make an impact on me, I usually incorporate them into my songs." Now it's my turn to blush. I need a moment to process, but, fuck, Sal keeps going. "For example, 'Wherein Christine Daaè Becomes Her Own Phantom' is about Ash. And then a couple lines in some other songs, like the one you heard in this one and 'Falling through like fingers in fishnets---' those were about you."

I gape at him. This genius made of multitudes and art and misery and physics. I don't know what to say, so I stupidly spit out, "Ash has an entire song about her? You gonna write one about me?"

As soon as the words come out, I narrow my eyes and internally scold myself. Not the time to joke, y/n. Not at all.

Sal strums a note on his guitar, in a completely different world as he mumbles, "Who says I haven't already?"

My head snaps to him and a full on, rainbow infested panic attack starts up. He was so serious, ditched all of his reservations when he said that.

At my silence, Sal glances up inquisitively. He takes one look at my face and his eyes widen a fraction. "I'm joking. You aren't that important for me to write a whole song about. Don't take it so seriously."

Do I snap at him for that or feel relieved?

I choose to glare at him instead and switch the subject. "North has a really nice voice," I say a bit too cheerily. Sal notices and I watch him stifle a petty laugh. "It's very melodic, goes well with the band's sound."

"Don't tell him that," Sal snorts, something a bit bitter taking the place of his previous amusement. "His ego's already huge as is."

Ash had some serious heat on North, and now Sal's looking like he has some not-so-good opinions too. Is North really so shady? What is it that everyone's so on edge about?

I recall the time Ash went on a rampage about North incessantly flirting with me and how she mentioned that he isn't exactly known for being in relationships, that he may not be what he portrays himself as.

Sal seems to be pretty open tonight. Maybe I can finally start to understand what the issue is.

I open my mouth but fail to get a word out. I contemplate saying anything at all, nerves consuming me at the prospect. But North isn't here, it's not like he's going to find out we talked about him.

"Is he really..." I start softly. "Ash hinted that he may not be the best person?" I settle on, peeking at Sal through my lashes.

Sal watches me, eyebrows drawing together and jaw working as he searches for what to say. I wait patiently, happy that he's at least thinking about answering me.

"Are you considering cutting off our arrangement to be with him?" He asks genuinely, nothing but seriousness portrayed in his expression.

All the air leaves my body. I hadn't thought about ending things with Sal for that reason, not even once. Plus, North and I haven't talked in a while. After Ash freaked out, I pretty much put the situation on the back burner. "No," I reply quietly. "It's just curiosity at this point."

Sal's expression softens and he blinks at me, holds me in his gaze before sighing heavily. "Everyone has their own shit to work through. He's no different. He has a lot of baggage though, lot of issues. He's told me a thousand times before that he doesn't think he'd be able to handle a relationship because of his problems." He pauses, grimacing as he fights for the right words, clearly not wanting to disrespect is friend. "North is a bit of a hit or miss. I can't predict how he'd be with you." 

He sends me a devilish look, teeth on display in a stunning smile as he adds, "Definitely can't tell you if the sex is good or not. He wouldn't let me hit."

I shake my head at him and roll my eyes, a blush forming on my cheeks. "I did not ask for that last bit," I tell him pointedly.

Sal chuckles, standing up from his spot on the opposite sofa to sit beside me. I watch him with questioning eyes, my body falling into a frenzy because, oh God, Sal's close. Arms. Tattoos. Fingers. Neck. Face. Teeth. Mouth. Hair. Veins. Ravenous. Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

Yikes.

He grabs the controller I'd been playing Resident Evil with and that's when I remember that other half of our last minute agreement.

"Figured I'd give you one last little push to keep fucking me and not him," he says as if that statement holds no weight, gesturing toward me with the controller.

I hate when he says 'fuck' because it's always so unironically seductive. I know he's just playing around, but that glint in his eyes and the smirk-like tilt of his lips tries to tell me otherwise.

I snatch the controller from him and unpause the game, grumbling, "I already said I'm not interested in him."

I walk through all the steps I'd already done, having to restart the entire village scene due to my repeated fuck up from last round.

Sal doesn't reply to me, he watches every move I make on the screen and I focus as best as I can. The last thing I want to do is embarrass myself, but I get wrapped up in the same exact spot again, fighting off more of the infected than I can handle.

Leon's body drops to the ground again and I stomp down the overwhelming urge to walk through the TV screen and beat Leon's dead body myself.

"I see what the problem is," Sal pipes up beside me, his tone screaming 'Physics Graduate' with how... scientific he sounds. I bet he conjured up a fucking hypothesis for this. "Come here," he says, linking a finger through my belt loop and tugging me toward him.

I nearly choke on air when my shoulder squishes against his and he leans closer, grabbing my arm closest to him and pulling it so that I'm holding the controller between us.

He moves his hands so that they wrap around mine and over the controller. He can move my thumbs any way he wants with this position-- but now I'm suffering the consequences. His hands are rough and warm on me, his fingers callused and brushing over mine with a perfect plan set in place. I can hardly breathe because, technically, Sal's holding my hands right now. And my body is pressed to his. If he listens a little too hard, he'll hear my heart slamming in my chest.

My body is completely rigid against his. Sex doesn't even involve closeness like this. My entire brain has been completely detached and rewired in mere seconds. Everything I thought has been reversed and I could... totally bed him right here, maybe?

"Are you going to restart or do I have to do that for you too?" Sal rasps humorously. His voice is so near, so clear. I want to look over at him so bad, see the dimple on his cheek because I can hear his smile, but I keep a level head. My eyes stay trained on the TV as I press start.

After all, when a cool, slow-mo explosion happens in the movies, the protagonist never looks back to watch. 

I am the protagonist. I am the fucking protagonist. Iamthefuckingprotagonist.

"Okay, so this is where you're going wrong," Sal says in my ear, his tone suggesting he's much more focused now. His thumbs press into mine, moving Leon around the village much more easily than I could. Doesn't mean he's better than me, he just isn't running on fumes like I am. Sal fumes. I'm suffocating in him, it's all his fault. I am a good player, I swear I am.

I let him direct me, slowly beginning to relax in this soooo not-embrace. His arm, pressed against mine, acts as leverage for me to rest. He seems to lean against me more at some point too, the both of us more worried about getting Leon through the village than about how we slowly warm up to each other and this proximity.

"I don't know if we can get it with me guiding you like this," Sal says a tad urgently when the chase scene starts up, his thumbs working quickly with mine. At some point, I was able to start predicting what moves he'd make, so we seem to be more in sync now. "But we'll try. We have to get through the first wave, then we're going to shoot that damn church bell."

I furrow my brows. "Like the first game?" I gasp, "We can still do it here?"

Sal snorts, manipulating my fingers to shoot someone heading our way. "Of course we can. Watch and learn."

I do watch, and hell, I learn too. It takes maybe five minutes for Sal to get me through the part I'd been stuck on since I got here. The moment he gets the shot on the bell, it rings through the city and evokes deep satisfaction within me-- especially when all the citizens start piling at the church.

I smile at the screen, Sal's hands still wrapped around mine as the famed cut scene starts up.

"Where's everyone going? Bingo?"

This time I look at Sal because we said that line in unison. We said it together. At the same time. He looks back at me with wide eyes and an astonished grin, like he's barely holding back crazed excitement.

Something catches Sal's eye as we watch each other for a short moment, reveling in our shared interest and achievement. He looks up and past me, smile softening as he lets go of my hands. 

The controller is suddenly so heavy without him holding it up for me. It slowly drops to my lap as he stands, walking back over to his respective couch.

I swallow, biting down my yearning for his missing presence. He was warm, he was stable. And that admission only reinforces that fact that I really need to put some much needed distance between us before things get way too real.

I look down at my lap for a moment, reminding myself that everything's going it work itself out. It'll be okay.

Things go back to the way they were before we started conversing today. Sal plays his guitar and tweaks things on his laptop, I play Resident Evil. Only difference now is that we're both progressing through our tasks.

And you know what, it's really nice. I thought this would be a mistake, I thought this would make things so much worse-- well, things are worse, but not in the way I assumed it would be.

But I'm actually having fun. The best part is neither of us need to talk to enjoy ourselves right now. A dynamic like this one is rare.

"You need to go."

The words are abrupt, make me look up. Sal is placing his phone down beside him and pulling his guitar strap over his head. 

Is this some kind of prank? Is he just trying to get our old bickering going? I was just thinking about how nice things were and he cut it off like he read my mind. He had this icy monotone to his voice that I haven't heard in a long time.

With a wary smile, I try to play along. "You're stuck with me, buddy. You made the mistake of inviting me in."

"I'm serious, y/n. I need you to leave." He nearly cuts me off, the words rushing out in what almost sounds like a panic.

I look at him closer, leaning my head down a bit to peek past his curtain of hair. His face is so stone-like, one would think he had faced off with Medusa. My eyebrows pinch together as I finally click into the veiled tenseness around us, my realization making everything that much thicker. 

"Are-- are you okay?" I ask softly, a trickle of apprehension going down my spine. I don't know how to approach this. Clearly, something's wrong and he's trying to play it off. What do I do here? Things were going fine.

"Get out." The words are like a slap to the face, so aggressive and loud that I flinch, the controller tumbling off my lap and onto the floor.

My racing heart only increases its speed as I freeze up and just stare at him. I'm frightened, something I definitely don't want him to see but I can't help it, especially when he looks up at me with a glare so menacing-- the same glare that was always hidden by his prosthetic months ago. Until now.

I force myself to breathe and think.

Okay, he wants me gone. I can do that. All I have to do is walk out the door and I'll be out of his hair. Hell, he might even apologize about this later. My brain nags at me though, says that behind the anger in his expression is fear and sadness. Says that he doesn't need to be alone right now-- he needs someone.

This switch in him was so random, so fast. It feels wrong to think that I was the cause or that he's suddenly freaking out because I'm here. There's something deeper; the problem now is whether he'll let me find out what's going on or not. Should I even try?

Utterly split on what to do, I slowly stand to my feet, never breaking eye contact with him. His excruciating glower softens a little, showing off a glimmer of relief that further proves my thoughts.

I fight past the fear he suddenly evoked, overwhelmed by how pained he must be to have a sudden reaction like this. He helped me when I had a hard time, so shouldn't I do the same for him?

As if to confirm my thoughts, Gizmo comes veering into the room. He talks and talks, skittering over to Sal and climbing up his chest. That's when Sal finally looks away from me so he can run his tattooed hand over the cat's orange fur.

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. There is something wrong. Gizmo's presence says it all-- he did the same thing for me when I was anxious.

"Sal..." I say gently, hovering in my stance. I hold my hands to my chest, stuck on what decision to make. I don't know what to do. I'm torn between his wishes and mine. "Do you need to talk about something?"

"No," he bites out. "What I need is for you to get the fuck out." He gently moves Gizmo and stands up. I gulp, watching as that threatening aura of his grows closer and closer with each step he takes. I match his pace, taking steps backward. He herds me to the front door of his apartment, stopping when my back hits the doorknob.

I gasp at the feeling of metal digging into my lower back, using all my might not to back down and cower as Sal towers of me; every inch of his face curled with malice and rage and anguish. His dark brows are furrowed to hold up that glare of his, his light eyes darkened by the negativity roiling around in him. His marred lips set in a frown that just doesn't suit him at all. It's all so unlike him.

This isn't who I've come to know. No matter how scary he is, I just can't, in good conscience, leave him like this.

I take a shaky breath and stay stock still. Stand a bit taller to match his energy. I say a silent prayer that I don't end up on the evening news before I jump into the river crawling with snakes and alligators.

"I don't feel comfortable leaving you like this," I declare, making sure my voice is confident to show that I won't back down despite how unconfident I am.

He looks away, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as if to bite down his instinctual reaction before he addresses me again. 

He's trying. He's trying so hard not to scare me off for good-- that's why he wants me to leave now. I see it-- I see through him.

The gears work and click together in my mind. He doesn't want to be alone, he doesn't want to suffer with no one to hold him up when he's low. He's just so focused on boxing up his secrets, keeping them hidden from everyone that he won't rely on his only option. I really can't leave him now, can I?

"You can talk about it if you want, or you don't have to. But you don't have to be alone, whatever it is," I try to console him gently, moving to the side so he can see me in his peripheral. But my movement just makes him squeeze his eyes shut. My heart stutters upon realizing I'm not getting through to him, he isn't hearing me.

"Don't say that shit like you care!" he nearly explodes, voice rattling in my ears. "You don't understand anything. You don't know a thing about me."

He's looking at me again, desperation swimming in his ocean gaze, hiding away from the rage taking over his expression. His eyes rove over my face, sizing me up, waiting for the moment I bite back or walk away.

"I know I don't know anything," I tell him softly, making sure that my expression is open and, fuck, caring. Because I do care. "That's why I'm asking you to help me help you. However way is better."

"I don't want your fucking help," he hisses, eyes narrowing. "I don't want your fucking pity. I want you gone."

I open my mouth to passively fight him on that decision, but he interrupts me before I can even get a word out. "You can't spew this bullshit at me. Like you've lived a day in my life and you know what's it's like to be me. You don't, and you never will if it's up to me." With each word, pity, guilt, and anger builds within me. He's suffering and he won't let himself feel even an ounce of reprieve. Instead, he's trying to push everyone away. He's the type of asshole who probably thinks he deserves to be alone. "I don't want you here, nor do I need you here. Go coddle someone who needs it and get off my fucking case."

I clap back at him the moment he finishes. "Well, maybe you do need help! Maybe you do need my fucking pity! Have you thought about that?" I snap, gesturing to him with a hand. Why can't he just accept this? Get help? Let someone take it so he doesn't have to bear it all? "I don't need to be you to get it, Sal. I don't even need to be me to get it because I see it. You think you can hide it all, carry it all, but you clearly fucking cannot." I scrunch up my face to accentuate my words, trying to get it across to him through the parts of my face on display, the thing that supposedly captures his fascination so much. "It's seeping off of you like oil; doesn't even soak into you. You don't wear your heart on your sleeve, you wear your feelings. I don't know what the hell's going on, but it doesn't take a genius with an IQ higher than yours to see that you're in pain."

Sal doesn't let up that harsh scowl, but I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. And then he blinks. Then he's turning his back to me, walking away from me and toward the kitchen while running a hand down his face.

My heart physically feels as if it's cracking in two, but I grip onto the bit of clarity I have left after literally yelling in his face. I take a hesitant step toward him when his head tilts down, his hair falling around him.

I wet my lips, ponder what to say now. How to approach this with my fingers quaking as each quiet second passes.

"Let's..." I whisper, heaving a troubled sigh. "You don't have to tell me, but maybe talking about it will relieve you, even if just a little." I chew on the inside of my cheek, tiptoeing around the topic, making sure I'm gentle with him now that he's backed down. "And if you really don't want to talk about it, you don't have to. We can watch a movie, play a game. Whatever you want."

The tides are shifting. With each offer that leaves my mouth, something about us changes. With how much I live to loathe change, I find that I don't fear it the way I did before. Not if the change is with Sal. Not right now when this man is nearly falling apart in front of me and pretending that he isn't.

"I need--" his voice cracks and my heart does the same. He's holding himself together with wet glue right now. What the fuck is going on? "I need to talk to Ash," he tries again, his voice a little more stable this time, though still soft and reserved. "But I can't. She's busy."

I bite down on my bottom lip. I know he doesn't want to talk to me. He said it himself; he would never tell me his secrets. But I don't think either of us have much of a choice.

"I'm not Ash," I say delicately, taking one more step toward him. There's still so much distance between us, I don't know how to get to him. "But whatever you say will never leave this room. Once it's out, I'll forget it ever happened if that's what you want."

He doesn't move, doesn't speak. He's heavily contemplating, weighing his options. 

Still silent, he jumps into action, moving to a cabinet in the kitchen. He opens it, pulls out a can of peaches. I watch his every movement as he opens the can then grabs a fork from a drawer. 

I don't push him to speak, I let him figure out what he wants to do. He doesn't quite face me, but he turns so that his back leans against the counter, all while he bites into a colorful peach slice that's hanging from his fork.

He chews while staring unblinkingly at the emptiness in front of him.

"She messaged me."

My eyebrows draw together in confusion for a moment, but I think about what he's said before I ask him to be more specific. 

She. She. I only know of two women regarding Sal-- one being Ash, and the other...

I hold my breath as I realize. It's the woman who hurt him. I shift my weight, expression slackening as I try to find a solution for him. My mind starts swimming with ways to drag him from the depths of his agony. 

Ash told me that if I ever had strange messages and suspected it to be that woman, that I should let her know. And if this woman is harassing Sal, we could take it to police and maybe, hopefully, they could do something about it.

"And I don't know what to do," he continues helplessly, his sweet voice melodic with despair as he looks down at his can of peaches.

I watch him, collecting myself to approach him as rationally as possible. Then, I close the fated distance between us and walk over to him. I stand before him, about a foot of space between us. He doesn't look up.

"Here's what we can do," I start tenderly, trying to be as soft as possible while being a stable foothold he can use to climb out of this mess.  "You don't have to look at it again," I continue, my gaze never leaving him even though he's almost completely hidden from me. "If you trust me with it, I'll take your phone, log in, screenshot the message. Then, I'll block her-- no response because she does not deserve it. I'll send the screenshot to myself then send it to Ash from there. It'll be out of your hands at that point. Me and Ash will handle the rest." Me and Ash because I want to sink my fangs into this bitch too.

Sal sets the can on the counter beside him, rubs a hand across his forehead. His fringe is wild, his hair sticking up in different directions until he runs a hand through his hair, his black nails clashing against a sea of cerulean blue. "Okay," he says, the word so quiet and raspy that I nearly miss it.

I wait just a moment, eyes glued to him. "Okay," I repeat. "I'm going grab your phone."

I backtrack to the living room, picking his phone up from the couch where he'd left it. I flip it so that the screen is facing me and see an Instagram notification. I don't read it just yet, but I slide up on the lock so that he can type in his password. 

When I'm back in the kitchen, I stand in front of Sal and hand him the phone. Fork hanging from his mouth, he quickly types in his password then hands the device back to me. 

It's open to the message. I know I'm doing this for him, but I'm afraid to look too much in fear of seeing something he doesn't want me to see. The last thing I want to do is betray his trust when he's finally given it to me.

"Do you want me to read it or just get the job done?" I ask him. 

"Just read it. It's inevitable either way," he mutters dejectedly. That tone makes me frown worriedly. I'm already on the precipice of falling into complete heartbreak. His reaction certainly doesn't help. Still, I take the screenshot before glancing over the text:

@zoxbby112: 2 fucking years? sexual assault? you've got to be fucking joking you pathetic piece of shit. i TOLD you no one was going to believe your dumb ass and you still went and did it anyway. you're literally a dude, if you didn't want it you should've pushed me off or smth. everyone says no in the heat of the moment asshole. you liked it, you just need to play the victim since no one else is ever going to want you and that ugly fucking face. you're lucky i even still fucked you after getting that piece of plastic off you. fucked up my entire life. making yours a living hell is the only revenge i'm willing to get. 

I have to grip onto the counter to stop myself from crumbling to my knees upon realizing just how this woman hurt him. It was sexual assault. She assaulted him. 

"Oh, Sal..." The words slip past my lips, unbidden and broken as I take a shaky breath.

I blink past the sudden tears in my eyes and shake my head as I block her account then delete the message, navigating my way through his home screen and to discord. I send the message to myself then grab my own phone, making sure to save the screenshot. I go back to his, deleting the photo from our messages and his camera roll so he never has to see it again.

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to feel. So much of me wants to be angry, but all I'm feeling is throbbing pain and overwhelming guilt. I feel like my organs are being harvested from my body, like my skin is slowly being peeled away from my bones. All because I have no idea what to do for him, I don't know how to make it better. I don't know how to fix it for him, and I don't think I can.

"I'm..." I start to say, my voice hoarse. 

"Please don't tell me you're sorry," he says quietly, stabbing his fork into another peach.

I tilt my head, biting my tongue as I place his phone down beside him. If I were in his situation, I wouldn't want to hear sorry's anymore either. God, more than anything I just wish I could go back in time and save him from that.

"You know," I say instead, so much emotion ravaging me whole that I don't know how to stay standing on my own. The only reason I'm still up is for him. "I don't know much about physics, but I did like biology. And something my teacher taught me is that skin renewal takes seven years. So in seven years, you'll have brand new skin, and, um, it won't be the same skin you had when..." I trail off, going completely blank while trying to give him something to look forward to. Everything is so pathetic that even my brain can't cooperate.

Sal's head snaps up to look at me like he actually understood what I was yapping about. His pretty blue eyes glisten with unshed tears, but he still looks at me, face completely expressionless.

I match his gaze, waiting for something. Anything. But then he cracks a pitiful smile, snorts softly-- shows me as much humor as he can muster up. Wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.

I feel each of my damaged cells rebuilding themselves again at his shift in character. My heart beat becomes a little stronger, my breath more even and not so shallow with torturous anticipation. 

"My skin will be untouched in seven years," he laughs, albeit humorlessly, but it's something.

"Yea, that's what I was getting at," I confirm, rubbing my arms and looking down at my feet.

Still standing beside him, I glance up just as he bites off half the peach slice on his fork. He gazes back at me, his eyes bluer than any sky I've seen, expression softer than any lingering touch of his.

I feel heat gather along my cheeks when he tilts the fork toward me slowly, offering me the other half of the peach. He looks like a cornered bunny, giving the fox hovering around him a peace offering. It's an apology and a thank you, reinforcing the trust that I handled with as much care as possible. 

This fruit means something to him. I haven't an inkling of understanding on the offer, but if it matters to him then it matters to me.

I gently pluck the fork from his fingers, bite off the other half of the peach then hand the fork back.

Turning, I lean my back against the counter and stand beside him, both of us looking into the empty living room in front of us. We don't talk, we don't share a word. But we do pass that fork back and forth. He takes a bite of a peach, I finish it off. It goes like that until the can is empty, and then we both just kind of... stand there.

He pushes off the counter with a soft grunt, dumps the remaining syrup into the sink, washes it down the drain, then he walks over to me. He just stands there and looks down at me with the gentlest expression I've ever seen on him.

I stare back at him, dumbfounded as my mind races for explanations. So much is different now, I didn't think it could possibly change any more but I'm slowly learning that I keep severely underestimating Sal Fisher. Neither of us can make up excuses for this. 

I quickly fit the puzzle pieces together though and realize he's right in front of me because I'm blocking the trashcan. What only solidifies it is that a little upside down smile quirks his lips upon seeing me connect the dots. 

Now, we move the the awkward, embarrassment stage that comes with deep connection. Yea, making friends really sucks, especially when I want so much more than friends.

What?

The unwarranted thought flies out of my head as Sal braces a hand on the counter beside me when I don't move, caging me in as he bends forward. His face passes right beside mine and his hair brushes my cheek, making a chill run up my spine.

His body heat encases me like a warm duvet on the coldest of winter days, his scent wrapping around my soul, squeezing tight, comforting. He's so familiar now, it feels so normal being close to him like this. So much so that I ache to hold him right here for hours. Forever, even. 

Maybe it's the dim lights in the kitchen, the dark night filtering in from his balcony windows. But when he moves backward, he doesn't go far.

He hovers near me, his hand still pressed into the counter beside me. He's close, very close. Closer than he's ever been, I think. 

I map the curve of his lips, my eyes drifting to where the deep scars elongate and change the shape of his mouth, dragging up his cheek and to his eye-- the eye that I can clearly tell is a prosthetic now that he's so close. It looks so similar to his real eye that I genuinely couldn't tell the difference before. 

"You have freckles," I whisper upon noticing them, my voice barely above a whisper. Before I can stop myself, I lift a hand between us and gently run my fingertips over his skin, tracing every little light spot along his nose and cheeks. 

His eyes glance back and forth between mine in my peripheral vision and at the same time, a light pink dusts his cheeks that I'm so focused on. He swallows, licks his lips. Unable to form words.

He opens his mouth, almost like he's thinking of saying something, but he doesn't. He simply lets out a breath, delicately holds me in his gaze.

I let my hand drop between us, marveling at the feel of his soft skin beneath mine. I don't want to make him uncomfortable though, I'm already ogling him enough as it is.

At the realization that I really am looking at him so hard, I tilt my head down, dropping my gaze. After what that awful woman texted him tonight, I doubt he wants to be looked at like this. Picked apart, observed. The point of this is to help him, not point out everything he probably hates about himself. Though, there really is nothing to hate. The me from a couple months ago would passionately object to that statement, but that's past-me for a reason. 

Things change. I changed. Sal's changed.

My breath catches in my throat when his hand presses against my cheek, using the leverage to tilt my head up again. To look at him.

My heart leaps in my chest and I'm unable to breathe when I notice his dilated pupil, feel his thumb gently rubbing my along my jawline. His eyes track his digit's movements, but I can't even be bothered to look away from him. I'm bewitched by his fascination with me, haunted by the calm expression on his face, the wonder in his eyes.

His thumb drags down from my cheek and to my mouth, skimming over my top lip, then the bottom. I feel skittish, burning to move some part of my body to release the energy pent up inside me.

His tongue runs over his bottom lip, entranced by my own mouth.

And if he were to actually try to kiss me this time, I wouldn't stop him.

A low hum spreads throughout my entire body upon acknowledging our situation and the tension that's suddenly filled the air. It's a tingling in every limb, down my spine, up to the very tips of my fingers and toes. I feel him everywhere even though he's only touching my face. I can see him so well, so easily. The slightly darker shade of his left eye and the golden flecks of stardust in his right eye. Pretty. So pretty.

"So pretty," he murmurs my own thoughts. Something about the way he says it, so unguarded and adoring, makes me think I wasn't supposed to hear it.

I don't know how to reply or if I even should. I simply watch him like I have been all night, feeling oxygen and rationality leave me with each prolonged second of this somewhat embrace of ours. We've found ourselves like this more than once today, could we possibly escape it again?

I feel so light and heavy at the same time, thrumming with energy but weak. The feeling of his skin, so cool against my flushed skin, is enough to have my mind racing but to make my body completely freeze. I'm stuck. There's so much... so much that I want to do with the way he's looking at me this way, but I can't make myself do it.

I don't quite realize how close we've suddenly gotten until his nose bumps my mask's. A quiet gasp leaves me and his eyes dart up, gazing into mine.

He's fighting himself and I can tell, the quick scrunch of his eyebrows gives everything away.

Things are really about to change-- again. As if they hadn't already.

There's something startling about the way his eyebrows draw together again, but this time in a pleading way, like he's silently willing me with his mind to pull away from him. Begging me to put a stop to his internal madness. To change his mind. His doe eyes look a little scared and a little dedicated– two very different emotions that just so happen to go hand-in-hand for the moment. 

The way he's looking at me... it's been so long since anyone has looked so pleasurably torn up over wanting me so badly. And not in a lustful way, but in the way that forms bonds. Connects us so intimately without the goal of chasing an orgasm or being able to get something out of the situation. The way he's looking at me screams curiosity and a need to sate it so bad that he's not fighting the battle he wanted me to pull him away from moments ago. He's just slowly giving in and trying to convince himself that he's not.

I'm no better than him in this moment. My hands are balled into fists, my entire body frozen and awaiting whatever it is that's going to come next. My fingernails bite into my palms and my heart drums against my chest, wishing he'd move closer.

I didn't think it'd be this way. I didn't expect to crave him so badly, to miss the feeling of his lips on mine without ever having felt it before. It's excruciating to yearn for him in this new way and hope that he doesn't back out before I can even feel him.

As if he read my mind, he's moved so close that I can feel his breath on my chin, his top lip brush over mine.

I suck in a choking breath and hold it, praying this isn't all a dream.

"Aren't you scared?" He whispers quietly, his mouth skimming over mine with each syllable. His words echo in my mind, his tone caressing my thoughts, coercing me into falling into him and never getting up again.

"No," I whisper back, shutting my eyes and waiting. It's scarier to look at him and fear that he'll move away. Almost as if to lock him into place, I grip onto the hem of his shirt.

He goes quiet and I feel every one of my neurons lighting up with anticipation when his forehead presses against my mask's. 

"Push me away. Something," Sal whispers, the words so quiet and pained that I don't dare open my eyes to observe his current state. 

He knows. He knows this is exactly what he told me wouldn't happen, but now it's about to. And we should be realistic, think about the consequences but I don't want to. I just want to feel him, have him near. I want to be selfish.

I lick my lips, forgetting he's so close. My tongue swipes over his bottom lip and I hear it-- feel it when he steals a breath that tries to escape him.

"I can't," I answer him hoarsely, unable to raise my voice for him to hear me better as I squeeze the fabric of his shirt in my fist. Every bit of me aches to touch him, to feel his skin on mine but I can't muster up the courage, not when this entire situation is in his hands right now.

I won't choose for him today, not with what brought us to this. If he wants me, he can take me.

"Please." His word comes out in a broken whisper, so full of yearning that a little whimper escapes my mouth.

"Please," I mimic him, entranced by the featherlight brush of my lips over his. I can't keep doing this. I can't... "I can't think. Do it."

He lets out the most pitiful sigh I think I've ever heard in my life, and then leisurely presses his lips into mine. It's slow, soft, careful. He holds himself there, suffocates in the sensation just as I do.

Everything I thought I had lost so long ago comes rushing back into me. Excitement, life, a want for more than basic necessity. And for once, I don't feel bad. I don't feel guilty for wanting Sal as much as I do.

I place a hand on his stomach to remind myself that this kiss is real, that he's truly standing in front of me.

My touch was the trigger, I realize, when his other hand moves to my other cheek, pulls me closer to him. He tilts his head a bit as his jagged lips part against mine, softly welcoming the slanting of my mouth against his.

My throat feels as though it's clamped shut as I move a hand to grab onto the base of Sal's neck, my fingers wrapping around the collar of his shirt. I'm completely enraptured by the feeling of his mouth on mine. I feel like I'm going to faint, my heart beating so quickly, so vigorously that I can hear my blood pulsing in my ears. There's so much emotion that I've bitten down and hidden for so long regarding Sal. It's all coming out now.

Our lips move slowly, passionately. There's no rush, no heat. It's just feeling. Every movement, every moment of his lips sliding so delicately against mine, every ragged breath, every tightening of his hands on my face or my fingers bunching into his shirt. The feeling of our noses occasionally brushing against each other, plastic against damaged skin, and his chin skimming over mine just a bit. It's beautiful and so passionately smothering. The quiet morphs to mimic the simultaneous quick pace of our heart beats.

I feel the rapid beating of his heart like a drum right in the center of my chest where we touch, becoming one despite the heavy, loathsome origin story we were granted with. I'm sure he can feel just how much he's affecting me, his hand drifting over my neck and two fingers pressing against my pulse point like he did the first time we were together.

As sadistic as he is, I think he's only checking because he can't tell where his heart beat begins and where mine ends. 

Sal's lips close over mine again, the feeling eliciting a shiver that threatens to take over my entire being. I return his kiss, desperate to be closer to him in any way possible while my hand trails from his shirt to his cheek, brushing over the soft, scarred skin. 

He presses me against the kitchen counter, his hands beginning to roam past my face and neck as things gravitate from sweet to intense.

Our kiss becomes aggressive, his teeth biting into my lips and quiet breaths and whimpers passing from him and to me. He makes me feel crazy, filling me with exhilaration that courses through my blood quicker than adrenaline ever possibly could. 

Sal moves backward and I move to follow, but then his lips leave mine. 

I open my eyes, blinking up at him with barely an inch of space between our faces. 

He stares at me, looking like I've just torn him to pieces and hid every bit of him away and now he has to play eternity-long hide-n-seek.

But beyond that, his lips are flushed and kissed, his cheeks tinged pink and hair a mess-- when did I touch his hair? His eyes look a little brighter though, a little less haunted.

"Uh," he voices shakily. "Heat of the moment?"

He doesn't even sound like he believes himself.

The statement still makes my hopes deflate dramatically though. I chew on the inside of my cheek and force myself to look him in the eye as I lie to his face. "Yea," I rasp, taken aback by the sound of my voice. "Yea."

He watches me closely, never moving farther nor closer. As the seconds pass, he seems to sober up, the terrified look in his eyes slowly fading away.

If he decides this was a one time thing, at least I got to taste him once. At least we got one moment, one kiss. It's what I wanted and it's what he wants. 

Sal interrupts my thoughts, whispering, "You know..." One of his hands painstakingly and slowly trails along my side, making my skin erupt with  goosebumps. "I think we're still in the heat of the moment," he continues darkly, gaze falling to my mouth.

I don't let shock take control, I only try to control the smile that tries to quirk my lips. "I think so too," I whisper back, looking down at his teeth that bite into his lower lip like he's barely holding himself back.

As soon as he hears my response, he doesn't bother holding back. He smashes his lips onto mine and engages the two of us in the same dangerous dance we made the mistake of beginning earlier.

-------

A/N::::: BEEN HOLDING THIS ONE IN THE DRAFTS FOR A WHILLLLLLEEEEE I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S FINALLY TIME-- LIKE I ACTUALLY CAN'T BELIEVE IT WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO WRITE AFTER THIS

jk >:3

yea so as much as i adore this chapter, it also scares me because i feel like it moves way too fast (totally hasn't been nearly thirty fucking chapters ahahhaha). so yea, PLEASE let me know how we feel about this and what could have been better!

psa: i'm going to be starting student teaching august 1st, and college has me going to lots of meetings which means things are about to get VERRRYYYY busy for me… busier than they've ever been :( but!! i think things will be okay. lately, i've been teaching myself to fight through the lack of motivation and write any time i get even an inkling of yearning for it. exactly why y'all got this chapter so soon, actually! i saw something about how stephen king writes 5,000 words a day and i've been building to that! so while i won't be able to freely write as much as i know i'll want to, i'll still be writing. you guys know the drill though, even if it takes me a month or two to get something out, WINTER BREAK IS IN DECEMBER WHICH MEANS I CAN BEAT Y'ALL UP WITH CHAPTERS!!!

as always, i love you all SO much. more than you'll ever know. things have been tough on my mental lately and i'm going to be going through a HUGE shift in my life, but… that's okay cuz I know I'll always have you guys. thank you for being the most stable, non-toxic, and reliable things in my life! y'all going in my will fr

have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night my babies <3

p.s. when i wrote this note, i had just posted this chapter to wattpad-- which was about a week ago. the huge shift in my life had involved a six year relationship that i ended yesterday. i am incredibly torn up and shaken by this, but i believe it needed to happen for my wellbeing as well as my growth as a person. I know it's not necessarily an important thing to add to this note, but i want to give a reason just in case this healing process causes a prolonged absence for me. i am completely dedicated to faceless fixation and even today i've thought about what i want to write next, but i need to put some focus on myself instead of running away from my problems. thank you guys for being wonderful, i love you all so much!! until next time <3

[popcornoncemore]

I'm so sorry for cutting the deadline so close!

Here is my gift to the amazing @wilwywaylan for the Les Mis @drinkwithme-exchange 2024!

They requested Joly & Jehan, so here's a angst and fluff fix of them supporting each other through their struggles with mental health problems:

I just want to say that this exchange was amazing and that I was so honored to write for someone that I just love in this fandom. I hope that you like this!

Full work under cut: (tw raw chicken, panic attacks):

The morning started out as usual, a good day, a slow turn from night to day, Bossuet and Musichetta pressing a light kiss to Joly’s forehead, slightly interrupting the fog of his sleep. As their footsteps and hushed conversations retreated further into the apartment, Joly turned over once more in the bed and let himself drift off again.

The second time he awoke, Joly was much more alert. While he loved sleeping in, curled in the duvet that Courfeyrac had gifted them as a housewarming gift, cozy in the dappled light streaming through the curtains that had once belonged to Musichetta’s grandmother, it was hard for Joly to truly laze the day away. Spending too long in bed tended to summon a quiet yet incessant internal chatter about the merits of a rigid sleep schedule and the dangers of a lack of daily progress and simple movement, a nagging sense of conscious that refused to let Joly sleep past nine in the morning. Joly needed to start out on the right foot.

With the urging of the voice, Joly disembarked from the safety of his bed. Musichetta had left early to cover her coworker’s shift at the laundromat where they worked so that the other woman could visit her ailing mother. Bossuet, in a typical bout of his characteristic misfortune, had managed to do a great deal of damage to a neighbor’s fence the day prior in an incident involving Gavroche, a lawn mower, and approximately $15 worth of clear fishing line. Today, he had taken it upon himself to do the necessary repairs in hopes of smoothing things over with the disgruntled elderly couple.

This left Joly alone in the apartment with only his thoughts and the growing heat of the summer morning. Joly obeyed the near-instant urge to brush his teeth, making a beeline from the bed to the bathroom. When that was finished, he closely inspected his face, taking note of every new spot of acne and mentally listing off the names of the medicated creams that he needed to acquire. He tried not to pick at the spots, it would only make them worse, but it was so difficult when it made him want to crawl out of his skin. Joly then washed his hands, showered, washed his hands, put on moisturizer and sunscreen, washed his hands, dressed himself in a button-down and khakis, debated whether or not the day would be hot enough to give him heatstroke wearing a long-sleeved shirt, decided to change into a light-weight cotton t-shirt, and tried to style his hair which absolutely refused to lay correctly on his head.

Joly was overcome by a sense of dread as he tried to will his hair into place. He was not going to be able to get the results that he wanted, but he almost certainly was not going to be able to stop rearranging his hair until it was perfect. This devolved into hurried breaths and lightly pulling his hair. If Bossuet was here, he would have taken Joly’s hands in his own and told stories of his and Grantaire’s latest outing until Joly could get control of himself and move on to the next task. Today, Joly had to make do with imagining his boyfriend’s words and trying to manage his breathing. Joly squeezed his eyes shut and washed the remaining hair product off his hands, then quickly fled the bathroom before he could accidentally get a glimpse of his reflection.

Crisis averted.

Joly distracted himself with the daily cleaning, re-making their large bed and adjusting the incredibly large number of pillows that had been brought into bed by the culmination of Musichetta’s search for tasteful decor, Joly’s interest in the medical benefits of different shapes of pillows, and Bossuet’s near constant need to prop up one injured limb or another. Then it was a quick vacuum of the living room to limit the dust and potential allergens in the apartment, emptying the trash and recycling from every room, and reorganizing the perpetually undone shoe rack, lest Bossuet trip over a lose high heel coming in the door.

The next order of business was making sure to eat a hearty breakfast. As Joly checked the dates on all the food packaging in the refrigerator, he notices that the egg carton was empty. In general, there was hardly any protein in their apartment. Joly furrowed his brow. He was very tempted to resort to eating just a bowl of cereal and moving on with his day, but something inside him knew that that was a bad choice.

Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, he had to eat a balanced meal, or the rest of his day would be thrown off and who knew what could happen if Joly introduced that sort of chaos to his life. While he didn’t have class today, he was supposed to meet up with Combeferre to study. If he neglected a nutritious breakfast, his hands would shake while he took notes, and his attention span would be affected. It was only natural that the consequence of that may be failing the next test, putting him behind in the class, behind in his degree, and behind schedule. No, it was best to eat an appropriate meal.

Nothing in the refrigerator was suited to food that one would generally categorize as breakfast food, but Joly was willing to sacrifice that for nutrition. He opened the freezer, hoping to find some sort of meat that could serve as his protein.

To his disappointment, the only thing that he found was a bag of frozen chicken breasts. He cringed at the sight. It wasn’t that Joly wouldn’t eat chicken, on the contrary, Bossuet’s family recipe for lemon baked chicken was one of his absolute favorites; it was just that the idea of raw poultry was beyond revolting. In addition to its odd texture and appearance, Joly couldn’t help but imagine all the illnesses that could be caused by the raw or undercooked meat. In particular, the sight of the chicken brought up hurried thoughts about the dangers of salmonella and the image of a documentary he had once seen that tracked how the germs from poultry could be accidentally transferred about a cooking space.

There was an instant conflict between the voices in his head, debating the dangers of handling raw meat and not paying attention to nutrition. Joly desperately wished them to shut up but resolved himself to making a choice. He could cook chicken, people did that all the time and it was fine. He was being stupid, he couldn’t let his anxiety stop him from being a normal functioning person. Joly snatched the bag of chicken from the freezer, dropped it on the counter, and then immediately washed his hands.

Defrosting the meat was a nightmare. Joly removed the chicken from the bag with a pair of tongs, resting it on a plate, and then microwaving it until the it defrosted. When he took the plate out, Joly gagged at the sight of the raw poultry, sitting on the plate in a pool of melted frost and juices. He moved the chicken breast to the cutting board specifically designated for meat, leaving him with the disgusting plate of liquid.

He knew that he was supposed to dump it down the drain. It wouldn’t congeal like bacon grease and unfortunately, Joly lacked a way to incinerate it like food waste in some sci-fi film. But pouring it down the sink would contaminate the basin, the germs would spread when the water turned on, then there was no stopping the salmonella from moving to other surfaces. He put the plate down, it was a dilemma he would deal with later.

The next part was arguably the hardest. Joly had to cut the chicken into smaller pieces in order to properly seer it. How was he supposed to do that without directly handing the raw meat? With the tongs in one hand, he stabilized the breast, cutting it slowly with the knife in his other hand. It was going to be okay, it was going to be okay, he could do this, he had to do this. Normal people did this.

Joly’s trembling hand slipped on the tongs suddenly, the piece of chicken sliding across the cutting board and making contact with the hand that was still holding the knife.

Everything immediately went dark, then the color and sound and light and fear all rushed back into Joly’s perception at a lighting pace. God. God. It had touched him and… The knife slipped from his hand, narrowly missing his foot as it clattered to the floor. Joly whipped around in his panic as his breathing became more and more rapid. He made for the sink, but only managed knock the discarded plate of germs he had been avoiding to the floor, spilling its contents all over.

Joly was dying, there was nowhere to go. The situation was consuming him, he was going to pass out. His hands scrambled at his face, wiping through his tears to pick at the scabbing acne, scratching his cheeks with his fingers… His fingers that had just touched the chicken seconds before.

Oh god. His breathing got worse as he sank to the floor, to the puddle of yet more germs. He was going to throw up. He was going to die.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

There was a knock at the door.

Jehan had started their morning off noticeably poorly. Their melancholy was far past the point of being poetic, rather it was consuming and disheartening, destroying his creative thinking. While a passing phase of downcast and remorseful feelings was an important given in the life of a romantic, a rain spell that spoiled the weather but watered the crops, this was less of a rainfall and more of a tropical storm of sorts.

The morning sun was too bright as it cut into his bedroom, waking Jehan from their rest early. His body was sore for no good reason, as if his back had just taken a sudden disliking to the mattress, and the street outside was unusually loud for the time of day. The blankets had partially fallen off, leaving their legs cold.

Jehan did his best to right his mood, but to no avail.

From the bedside table, they pulled their current poetry journal, a beautifully bound thing that had been gift from Grantaire last Christmas. In an attempt to channel his feelings into something appropriate, they scribbled out lines of poetry onto the creamy pages of the book, scrambling to find a way to put a voice to the way he felt. Nothing took form from the words though, no matter what he wrote, the paper just became more and more marred by messy lines of bleeding ink. It was ugly, not in a way that inspired deep thought, but in a way that forced Jehan to angrily turn his eyes from the journal, to snap it shut and throwing it to the cluttered floor.

Getting dressed proved just as frustrating. Nothing fit right, Jehan’s body just looked incorrect in anything they put on. The limey cardigan that they picked to go over their floral-print sundress and stripped slacks itched in a way that made him want to just melt into a puddle on the bedroom floor. Jehan slumped and let himself lay down on the carpet, pulling the awful sweater off and throwing it as far away as they could. He moped on the ground, trying to reason with himself. It was silly to let this pessimism get them, but it seemed just as silly to blatantly ignore it. Why was this so complicated? Why did he feel so absolutely under the weather?

Rolling to get off the floor, they spotted the book they had discarded prior. He apologetically picked the journal up and set it back onto the nightstand, brushing off its cover with care. Jehan ran their hands through his hair, resisting the urge to pull at it and scratch at his scalp. They couldn’t just waste away on their bedroom floor, let themself drown in this floor of bitter sadness that was trying so desperately to sweep them away.

Using the last of his strength, Jehan dragged themself to their feet and promptly made straight for the door of the apartment. He couldn’t just sit here alone feeling bad for himself, letting himself drown.

He knocked on the door, but no one answered it. That was odd, Jehan could have sworn that Joly at least was home, it was part of the reason they had come here, apart from the fact that the apartment the trio shared was the closest to his own. Maybe he was wrong, of course, that would follow the pattern of the day. Maybe some of Bossuet’s bad luck had accidentally brushed off on them the last time that they went for drinks together.

Jehan shook off the thought. They were here to fight their pessimistic spiral, not feed it. He knocked on the door again, listening for the sound of movement in their friend’s apartment. Instead of someone approaching the door, Jehan heard what almost sounded like sobbing, muted, but definitely still present. Without a second thought, Jehan grabbed one of the spare keys hidden about the hallway in front of the apartment, placed there in the event that Bossuet left his keys on the counter, in a car, at work, or, on one particularly unfortunate occasion, at the post office inside of the package he had been mailing to Quebec.

Jehan entered the apartment warily. Someone was definitely crying, the sound clearer once inside, coming from the kitchen.

When he reached the kitchen, Jehan was met with a truly upsetting sight. Joly was alone, curled on the wet floor, hyperventilating and tearing at the skin on his face in a mindless fashion. It appeared that the other man had previously been cooking something, from the discarded cutting board, thawed chicken, and the shards of plate that were strewn across the ground.

Jehan approached him lightly, kneeling on the floor next to the man. “Joly, my friend, please listen to me. I am here to help. I heard your distress from outside and I simply had to come in. Let me help you. Here, breathe with me.”

They took Joly’s hands in theirs, pulling them away from his face. His friend did not quite register what was happening, but he didn’t fight the action. Jehan held Joly in his arms, slowly rocking him, speaking softly into his ear. Several minutes passed like this as Jehan helped his friend regain some control over his mind and body.

Any despairing thoughts that Jehan had awoken with took a back seat to helping Joly. “Joly, dear, tell me what is wrong? You do not have to deal with this alone. We’ll make this right, whatever it is. You are so very safe.”

Joly sniffled, then looked Jehan in the face for the first time since the other had entered his apartment. “The chicken… It slipped…” He paused, gagging a bit. “Oh god, the germs are everywhere, on the floor, on my hands, my face, on you! I was just trying…”

Ah, so that was what had triggered this fit of panic. Jehan surely wasn’t as familiar with the risks of raw poultry as Joly was, but he did know the basics of cooking and killing food-born germs. And knowing Joly as they did, the idea that Joly had panicked after accidentally coming into contact with the meat, and more importantly, his complicated thought process surrounding something he saw as a health hazard, was a fairly understandable one.

Jehan hugged their friend to them. “Oh Joly. I am so sorry, I know how much that sort of thing bothers you. It will be alright, I will help you.”

Joly frowned, another tear sliding down his cheek. “I shouldn’t need help. It’s just food, people cook all the time… I need to eat healthily, I should be able to eat healthily. I was trying to eat…” He breathed raggedly. “Everything is all wrong with me, I can’t cook, I can’t look right, I can’t relax or clean enough or even fucking feed myself correctly.”

He spoke desperately, like he was finally spilling a long-kept secret. Jehan’s heart hurt in their chest to see their friend lambast himself with such vigor, with such a belief in the cruel words he threw in his own direction.

“You, Joly, are perfectly acceptable as you are. I may not know all of the details of how you feel, but I do know that you aren’t a stupid man. You do not simply feel this way on a whim, or because you are lazy or incompetent, you always have reasoning behind it. You should not have to fight your own mind like this, but you so often successfully do so. There is no shame in asking for help or feeling despair, any man would become overwhelmed in your situation.”

“I just want my head to be quiet,” Joly pleaded softly. “The second I wake up it is like I am fighting with my own system of right and wrong, I debate danger and health and the thousands of ways to do something properly. I just can’t shake the feeling that I must follow these thoughts, but then they conflict and shout at each other and I slip up trying to do right by them all.”

Jehan nodded, listening to their friend while continuing to rock him gently. They ran a hand through his hair.

Joly paused in his rambling speech for a second. “I just want to feel something that isn’t this downwards spiral that ends in me crying on my floor like cooking chicken or brushing my hair is the end of the world.”

“I understand.” Jehan gave Joly a small smile. “I completely understand. It is hard when your mind works against you and it feels like you cannot escape this moment, the pattern of your thoughts that so quickly arranges itself into a maze. But you are not weak to feel this way, many people have to fight as you do against one foe or another. In fact, I came to your door today because I felt similarly trapped when I woke up this morning. It was like there was nothing I could do to chase away the dark feeling that the world was out to get me today, and I wasn’t up to the challenge. But I managed to come here, I found you and now we are together. And I know that while I am still simply melancholy and you are so understandably distraught, we will not fall victim to that vicious spiral. Let me help you, if the voices will not quiet, I will shush them most aggressively. And if that doesn’t work, I will sing over them so that at least you may hear something relaxing rather than demanding. Let me clean you up and help you back to your feet, I think it would do a world of good for us to fight our battles together today.”

Joly buried his face in his friend’s sundress, letting a few more tears fall. “Yes. Okay. Please help me to get out of this mess, it’s too much, and I feel faint even beginning to think about what may go wrong as a result.”

Jehan gave him a squeeze. “Of course, my dear friend. I will help you, for you have helped me so greatly already.”

Jehan had scrubbed down the kitchen, doing their best to meet Joly’s standards of cleanliness as they mopped, wiped, and bleached every inch of the room. The two friends then took as shower together, Jehan helping Joly to wash his face gently.

The clothes they had been wearing earlier all went straight into the old washing machine down the hall. One of the benefits of having all three occupants of the apartment share a room was that there was more space for some of the utilities that helped Joly to feel more sanitary and Bossuet to get the never-ending tie dye of stains out of his clothes.

They re-dressed in assorted clothing. Jehan pulled one of Bossuet’s zip-down hoodies for Joly, an easily removed layer in case of a sudden change of temperature. Joly brought Jehan one of Musichetta’s flowy blouses and a pair of his own plaid shorts. Jehan felt themself relax into the fabrics, their textures safe and comfortable.

Jehan combed Joly’s hair, and the two talked quietly about life; Bossuet and Gavroche’s recent run in with disaster, Grantaire’s (latest) blunder in front of Enjolras, Bahorel’s supposed mistress.

“Thank you for coming, Jehan.” Joly said the words as their conversation drifted into a pleasant silence. “I didn’t know that I needed someone today, but apparently I did.”

Jehan pressed a quick kiss to his friend’s forehead. “Of course. Absolutely any time. Thank you for being here. We’re going to be okay.”

When they finally set the brush down, Joly turned and crushed Jehan in a hug and the pair burst into laughter. When Joly finally released him, Jehan grinned at his friend in a way that seemed impossible only a few hours ago. “Would you like to go out to get some breakfast before you meet up with Combeferre? They say it’s the most important meal of the day!”

Joly smiled back, “Sure.”

It was looking to be a good day, it was only just getting started after all.

[tickly-giggles]

Can we have a drabble for lee!Hawks, prompt 12, with his wings? I'm a sucker for lee!Hawks and especially ticklish wings! Only if you want to, tho!!

YES OF COURSE YOU CAN, ANON! Thank you for sending this in, I've been waiting for someone to send one!

A/N: Some sentence starters are a little awkward for me to put directly at the beginning, so this one is a little further down, but it's there! This isn't necessarily connected to my current DabiHawks tk universe, but if you wanna think of this as a little flashback type deal, then go for it! Also, I decided to make this a college AU, cuz I couldn't find a proper way to make it in the normal universe and have Hawks be struggling with something that has a deadline that he could fail on. So, college AU it is! A quick thought just popped into my mind, though, about renewing hero licenses, though I don't know if that's a thing. REGARDLESS, ENOUGH RAMBLING-

Warning: Tickle fic ahead!

Prompt: "I'm gonna fail if I don't finish before the deadline."

Characters: Dabi, Hawks

Shipping: Technically DabiHawks, I promise they'll get together soon, guys

Lee: Hawks

Ler: Dabi

Word Count: 1,072

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

Yet another sleepless night of never ending studying put Keigo into quite the irritated mood. He sat at his desk in front of his laptop, head in his hands, the screen displaying a document that currently only had three paragraphs written. Birds started chirping outside his window as light from the sunrise began streaming into his dorm. With a frustrated sigh, he looked up at his computer screen and glared at the document. He had never been this stressed in his life.

Keigo’s overthinking was abruptly interrupted by a low groan and the shuffling of bed sheets from behind him. Touya slipped out from under the covers and stretched, then he looked over at his roommate, who had his back turned to him and was still staring at the laptop.

“You’re up early,” Touya commented, shivering as his bare feet hit the floor.

“Haven’t slept,” Keigo replied curtly.

Touya frowned and stood, walking over to his roommate. Empty energy drink cans littered his desk, and a small pile of dirty plates sat beside his laptop. When was the last time he even moved from his chair?

“You gotta get some sleep, Keigo,” 

Touya said as he reached for the laptop. He huffed when Keigo swatted his hand away,

“When’s the last time you showered?”

“Like, last night or something?”

“Bullshit,”

Touya hissed, glaring at Keigo, who refused to look at him,

“I had a hard time getting to sleep cuz your sleep deprived ass wouldn’t go to bed, and that damn laptop is brighter than my fire.”

“Tsk. Whatever, I just need to get this done.”

“You need to look after yourself.”

“I’m fine, Touya.”

“You’re not fine,”

the hot head crossed his arms,

“Your wings are drooping.”

“Dude, I’m gonna fail if I don’t finish before the deadline,”

Keigo finally turned to his friend, 

“You know how important this essay is! It’s due tomorrow, and I barely have anything written down. I know how my quirk works and how I can use it in battle, but I can’t explain it!”

he growled and slammed his fist on the desk,

“Why is an essay gonna be the deciding factor of if I graduate or not?!”

Touya sighed and rubbed his roommate’s head soothingly, 

“Relax, birdbrain. It isn’t the end of the world. You still have a whole day to get it done,”

he then took Keigo’s hand and tugged gently,

“But you need sleep first. You won’t be able to think properly if you’re running on fumes.”

“I can’t sleep right now,” Keigo groaned,

“Please leave me alone.”

Touya glared at his friend, getting more frustrated as time passed. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head, and his annoyed expression quickly transformed into a mischievous one.

“Fine,”

he huffed as he walked behind Keigo and positioned himself at his wings that hung over the back of the chair,

“I guess I’ll have to make you.”

“What does that even me-HEEEHEHEAN! NONONO TOUYA STOHOHOHOP!”

Keigo shrieked with sudden, uncontrollable laughter. Touya smirked as he dug into his friend’s fluffy wings, then yelped when one of them flapped a little too hard and smacked him right in the face.

“You little shit,” the hot head grumbled.

“I-I’m sohohorry,”

Keigo whined, standing up and holding his hands up in surrender while his roommate approached him,

“Touya, please, I’ll go to sleep, just anything but this– TOUYA!!”

Touya wasted no time, pouncing on his winged friend and pinning him to the bed, then scribbling all ten of his fingers over his sensitive feathers. Ever since they were children, Touya knew Keigo’s worst spot was his wings. He loved tormenting him whenever he got on his nerves, or even if he was just bored. His friend never failed to provide an entertaining experience.

“Too little too late, Keigo,”

the hot head smirked evilly, savoring his trapped roommate’s screams of ticklish agony,

“You should’ve decided before I had to resort to this. ‘sides, you hit me with your wings. I deserve some payback for that.”

“IHIHIHIT WAS AN AHAHAHACCIDENT, YOU PRIHIHIHICK!” Keigo cackled, thrashing helplessly,

“YOU WERE TIHIHIHICKLING MEHEHEHE! I COULDN’T HEHEHELP IHIHIT!”

“Not my problem,”

Touya shrugged, moving his fingers toward where Keigo’s wings connected to his back, and he chuckled as his friend’s laughter became more high pitched and desperate,

“Poor little Keigo. Can’t handle it, huh? Is it too much? You poor thing~.”

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUHUP!!”

“Awww, does teasing get to you? Hmm? Does it make it worse?”

he leaned in closer to Keigo’s flushed face, still talking in that sickeningly effective baby voice,

“Do you like it when I tease you? Huh, little birdie~?”

“TOHOHOHOUYA, PLEHEHEHEHEASE!!” 

Keigo felt extremely hot, and he pushed at Touya’s face with one hand while covering his own with his other hand.

“Ohh~? Do you like that nickname, little birdie? Does it make you flustered? Ah ah ah, don’t cover your face,”

Touya huffed and quickly grabbed Keigo’s wrists, pinning them above his head and giving him a little breather,

“Or I’ll make you regret it~.”

The winged student swallowed nervously and stared deeply into his friend’s eyes while catching his breath. He’d be lying if he said this wasn’t exciting and fun, but he still had his paper to write. He frowned and averted his gaze.

“Can I go back to working on my paper, please?”

“Your paper will be there.”

“Touya, let me up.”

“Nope.”

“Touya–”

“That’s it.”

Laughter once again rang throughout the dorm room, only stopping when Keigo’s boisterous cackling turned into silent hysteria. Touya knew he wasn’t going to listen, so he had no choice but to tire him out enough so that he wouldn’t even think of anything but sleep. 

About an hour had passed when the hot head finally decided to let up, and his plan had worked. Keigo fell asleep almost instantly after the tickle attack, and Touya tucked him in gently. He smiled as his roommate snored peacefully. It was an adorable sight - his flushed face stained with mirth and a small smile resting on his lips. He looked so comfortable. Touya sighed fondly and ran his fingers through Keigo’s soft hair, his eyes lingering on his lips for longer than he would admit. Finally, he walked over to the desk and made sure to save his friend’s work before closing the laptop, and began cleaning up the mess. He was positive Keigo would do better once he got some rest.

Request a drabble~

[slamminslamminmcgill]

Perrito Chapter 2: Protection - Lalo Salamanca/FTM Reader (NSFW!)

prequel to the events of chapter 1. you and lalo meet in the prison showers and strike a deal. rather than face the mercy of the other inmates, you agree to surrender yourself completely to him. tags/warnings: public humiliation/degradation, homophobic/transphobic slurs, shower sex, public sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, pet play, rimming, oral sex, face-slapping, face-spitting, squirting, spanking, hair-pulling, implied/referenced rape (nothing actually happens), BDSM, possessive behavior anatomical terms: cunt/pussy/hole/g-spot, (t-)dick words: 6,693 ao3 link author's notes: i am so unfathomably normal about lalo salamanca /lie como siempre no soy un hablante nativo pero estoy aprendiendo. entonces por favor corríjame si se encuentra algo de errores :3

Whoever said space was the final frontier must have never had to shower in prison.

As if being locked up with hundreds of dangerous, violent men nearly double your size wasn’t bad enough, you were now expected to get naked in front of witnesses. Your size, age, body type, and criminal charges were already working against you. They painted a picture of a weak young man, a little boy, really, who’s no stranger to whoring himself out. Your fellow inmates seemed to heckle you wherever you went, eager to stake their claim in you. It hadn’t even been a day, and yet you were already one of the hottest commodities in here. That alone was scary, but coupled with the fact that you were trans, it was downright horrifying. You thought you’d be lucky to last 4 seconds naked in the shower before someone grabbed you. If people knew you had a pussy, everyone around you would be clamoring to tear it up.

You’d almost resigned yourself to it. It was going to happen. You were going to walk into the shower dirty, and somehow leave even dirtier, if you left at all, that is. You figured if you wanted a slim chance of maintaining your dignity, you should go when the least amount of people were there. Hopefully, less people in the room meant less eyes on you. 

Carrying a plastic bag filled with prison-issue shower necessities, you managed to sneak away from the cafeteria at lunch time and head for the showers. Before you went inside, you decided to peek in and check for other inmates. You couldn’t see anyone, but you heard one lone shower running. That’s it. No voices, no footsteps, nothing but that one lone stream. You sighed, partly in relief, partly in disappointment. One other person was probably the most privacy you were going to get. You prayed that they wouldn’t pay attention to you. You took a deep breath, scrounged up all the strength and confidence you could find, and barged in. 

Men’s bathroom etiquette was something you’d picked up after transition. Obviously, you had no experience with prison bathrooms, but you assumed the code of conduct was the same. Look down at the floor or straight ahead. Do not speak. Do not make eye contact. Do your business quickly and then leave. Lingering for longer than necessary would signal that you were open for business, which you most certainly were not. You stood up straight with your brow furrowed, probably looking more like a disgruntled bunny rabbit than a prisoner not to be fucked with, and speedwalked to an available shower. There were partitions dividing them, but no door or curtain for privacy. Honestly, that was still better than you were expecting; you only had one vulnerable side instead of three. You picked a stall and tossed your bag in without carefully checking your surroundings, which ended up being the wrong move. 

A voice that was entirely too close to you called out, “Well, hey there, little guy! What’s your name?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. You’d been hoping to get through your shower in relative solitude, but you didn’t even have to strip to be harassed by someone. Still, it was the first time anyone here spoke to you like a person rather than a set of at least two holes on legs. You cautiously turned over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of your neighbor. 

He didn’t look like whatever menacing figure you had in mind. He was bigger and buffer than you, sure, but he seemed like a nice guy. Well, nice by prison standards. Actually, he was kinda hot, and he had a friendly smile on his face as he washed his salt-and-pepper hair. “Yeah, you, kid! What’s your name?”

You told him that and not much else.

He kept talking to fill in the silence. “Hm. Cute! It suits you. My name is Eduardo. Eduardo Salamanca, but you can call me Lalo. How’d a pretty little thing like you end up in here? What’d you do?”

Oh boy, here we go. You thought. You’d heard not to lie about your charges; it made you seem untrustworthy. Though with your circumstances, it might have just been easier to tape a giant “FUCK ME” sign to your back. Nevertheless, you confessed. “Drug possession and… prostitution.” You mumbled the last word, hoping he’d mishear it for ‘arson’ or something less conspicuous.

But he didn’t. “Really? Wow…” You could tell he was eyefucking you a little bit, but thankfully you still had your clothes on. Almost everything was left to his imagination. “Jeez, you poor kid. I bet you were busy on the streets. Well, at least you can get a little break from that. How long you in for?”

“6 months.” You answered. Of course, that was the best case scenario. If you left any earlier, it would probably be in a body bag.

Apparently, Lalo could read your mind. “6 months? Gonna be honest here. A little guy like you would be lucky to last 6 weeks.”

You don’t know the half of it, buddy, your inner monologue replied. What you said to him was something different, though. “Yeah, uh… I kinda got that vibe already. Honestly, you’re the first person to like… actually talk to me. I’ve been getting catcalled everywhere I go.” Catcalled being the nice way to put it. Threatened was probably more accurate.

Lalo sighed. “Yeah, unfortunately that’s par for the course for small guys here. Unless they get protection.”

“Protection?” You asked, probably already knowing the answer. “What do you mean?”

“Hm… Let me think of a nice way to say this…” Lalo pondered, and came up with, “I guess I don’t have to tell you that guys like you get passed around, right?”

“No, you do not.” You replied with a sarcastic smile. Laughing about your misfortune made it feel like it was survivable. If you didn’t take it seriously and decided to ‘yes and’ your inevitable trauma, you could move past it. The show must go on, even if the show is an improv night in Hell. 

Lalo snickered. “Right, yeah. So, it’s not exactly protection, more like a protector. Basically, you get someone to claim you as theirs. That way, you’re private property instead of public property. You get me?”

That was about what you expected. “Ah, yeah. That makes sense.” It wasn’t an ideal situation by any means, but better one than everyone. “How, uh… How would I go about finding someone for that?” 

“Well, for starters, you should get in the shower. No one’s gonna want you if you’re stinky.” Lalo pointed to your shower faucet, and tilted his head back to rinse the shampoo out of his hair.

You glanced up at the shower head. The way it hung from the ceiling so ominously, waiting to be the executor of your fate, it might as well have been a noose. Was this what it was like to die? Taking your last bow in front of the audience as you kicked over the chair? “Right…” You cleared your throat and turned fully around, making sure your back was to Lalo. Maybe if you kept your back to him, he wouldn’t notice. Hell, maybe he wasn’t even looking. Just don’t turn around. Don’t face forward. You took a deep breath and pulled your orange shirt off over your head, though you couldn’t figure out where to put it.

Evidently, Lalo saw your confusion. “You can put your clothes in your bag. Tie it up, though, otherwise they’ll get wet.”

Your heart sank. He was watching you. Intently. You dared not turn around to verify. “Thanks…” You mumbled as you stuffed your shirt in the bag. Figuring it wasn’t going to get any easier the longer you waited, you pulled your pants and underwear down and put them away as well. Naked but for the prophylactic flip-flops required in any public shower, you grabbed the bar of soap and bottle of shampoo from the bag, tied it up, and dropped it on the floor, all without turning around. 

Okay. You can do this. The hard part’s over. Just don’t turn around. Don’t face forward. Don’t turn around. Don’t face forward, you thought. It turned out that wasn’t the hard part, though, because whoever designed the shower controls must have been a goddamn NASA engineer. You couldn’t figure it out for the life of you.

Again, Lalo saw you struggling. “Yeah, it’s pretty tricky to get the hang of. Want some help?”

“N-No, thanks. I think I got it...” You lied. But how hard could it be? Just turn this dial here, right? No, wait. Maybe it’s this one? There we go! You were christened in your success with a stream of cold water.

Freezing cold water.

You cringed the second it hit your skin. “Shit!” You shouted and instinctively backed against the corner, narrowly escaping Snow Miser’s rain of terror. Shivering and dripping wet, you tried to reach for the controls, only to realize how badly you just fucked up.

You had turned around.

And you were facing forward.

Not only that, but you were facing Lalo.

And Lalo was looking exactly where you hoped he wouldn’t be. 

His mouth agape, he squinted to get a better look at your peculiar body. “No mames… (No fucking way…)” He muttered. 

You didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t sound good. You quickly turned back around, pressing your face into the corner. It was pointless. He already saw everything, but maybe you just did that to hide the tears that were sure to come. You wrapped your arms over your chest and hugged yourself for the tiniest bit of comfort and warmth. Your voice cracked as you said to him, “Please… Please don’t…”, not entirely sure what you were asking him not to do.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, little man. I’m not gonna hurt you.” Lalo assured you, cooing to you like you were a cat stuck in a tree. You half-expected him to start going pspspspsps to get you out of the corner. The distinctive sound of flip-flops on wet tile told you that he was walking over to you. You were left petrified and shivering as the cold water dripped down your exposed body. Eventually, the flip-flops stopped flopping. You heard a splash of water, the metal squeaking of the shower controls, and another splash. “Ah, mucho mejor… (Ah, much better…)” Lalo patted you on the shoulder, sharing some of his body heat to melt your cold demeanor. “See? I warmed it up for you, mijo. Now, can you turn around for me?”

You shimmied your stiff body around to face Lalo, who wasted no time eyeing you up and down. You could actually see his eyes flicker back and forth between your face, chest, and crotch in a perfect rhythm. One two three, four five six. Face chest crotch, crotch chest face.

“Wow…” Lalo sighed and rested both his hands on your shoulders as he continued to scan your body. He was trying to photograph every curve, every inch of you, as if he was afraid he’d never see you again.  “You… My god, you’re gorgeous… You probably made bank on the streets, huh? Body like that, I’d sell it too. Maybe even buy myself a nice place in Cancún with all the money I get for it.” 

You snorted with laughter. His sickly-sweet talk had you forgetting all about the sheer terror you were feeling just moments ago. He was an expert at talking you down, and you tried to find the best words to give him in return. “I… I wish man! You make it sound nice!”

“Well, a pretty boy like you deserves nice things. You deserve to be treated nice.” Lalo chuckled as he dragged his hands down, across the scars on your chest and over the curves of your hips. He bit his lip and looked back up at your face, “If you were mine? Psh, I’d treat you so nice. I’d give you everything you’ve ever wanted, querido, I promise. Would you like that?”

Hell, you’d like anything if it came out of that voice, a rich baritone with a sultry accent, warming you up like a crackling fireplace on a winter’s night. “Y-Yeah…” you hummed, hoping that your legs wouldn’t liquify in front of him. “So, uh… when you say, like… being yours, uh… does that mean you’ll-?”

Lalo answered your question before you finished asking it, “I’ll protect you, sweetheart. You won’t have to worry about anyone else.” He pulled you in for a hug and under the shower stream, which was now as warm and comforting as he was. He smooched your forehead before patting your shoulders and locking eyes with you. “So? You in?”

You were in. In over your head, but in nonetheless. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m in.”

“Good! I’m glad to have you.” Lalo kissed your forehead again. “But, I don’t just protect anyone, y’know. You gotta earn your keep, understand? You gotta prove to me that you’re worth protecting.”

At this point, you were used to bartering with your body. You’d spent plenty an evening face down, ass up, in some cheap motel room, scrolling through Twitter and fake moaning while you waited for whichever loser was behind you to cum inside the condom he’d bitched about wearing. But this, but Lalo, Lalo was more than just a client. He felt like much more. 

And when you looked down, you noticed that he was packing much more than your usual clientele. 

Like he had done to you, your gaze flickered back and forth from his crotch to his face. One, two, one, two. Face, cock, face, cooock. You couldn’t help yourself. Even at half-mast, you could tell he was big. Thick, uncut, trimmed hair, fat juicy balls, and fresh from the shower. It was gorgeous, and you had quite the portfolio for comparison. You’d said the same lies to every client that whipped it out: “Oh, wooow, it’s so biiiiig. I don’t know if I can take it all.” Lies, acting, stage presence, whatever you want to call it, but with Lalo, it was the truth. You unconsciously licked your lips.

Lalo was amused, but growing impatient. “You gonna do something or just stare at it all day?”

You snapped out of your cock-blinded haze and scoffed. “In a second, man! I’m just…” You dropped to your knees, gliding your hands down his back until they rested on his ass. “Just admiring what I have to work with.” You closed your eyes and maneuvered your mouth onto his beautiful cock, slurping and sucking to get it fully erect, which you did in record time.  

Lalo exhaled and ran his fingers through your wet hair, scratching your scalp as you worked. “Oh, there we go. That’s a good boy… You got good technique, huh? Get a lot of practice?”

“Mhm…” You answered with a mouthful of dick, lips buzzing around his head. For some reason, the way he said good boy went straight to your head (and your junk). You weren’t sure why, but you felt an overwhelming, soul-crushing desire to please him. Protecting yourself was definitely part of it, but self-preservation alone wouldn’t have you so enthusiastic. You’d give him whatever he wanted, anything he could ever ask for, just to hear him praise you again. You relaxed your throat as best you could, and pushed his butt towards you to get his cock all the way down. 

“Ooh, you naughty little thing, you like that?” Lalo growled, tightening his grip on your hair and jerking his hips into your face. “You like getting your throat fucked?” 

He kept you down for longer than you would have done yourself. Your throat convulsed and you spat up, coating him in drool. He yanked you off and let you gasp for air. You took a couple quick breaths, not wanting to be away from that cock for too long, and latched your spit-covered lips onto his balls. You licked, slurped, sucked, and slobbered on them while you stroked his shaft. 

Lalo threw his head back and moaned. “Oh, fuck, yeah, that’s it. Just like that. Good boy.”

There it was again, your call to action, your sleeper agent trigger phrase. You ripped your lips off his balls and took him back into your mouth, jacking him off with your throat. You got him all the way in again, your nose nuzzling into his pubic hair while your tongue lapped at his balls. You struggled to breathe through your nose, but you didn’t care. Cock was more important than oxygen. 

Lalo laughed over your choking, not maliciously, but in pure glee at the sight before him. “Oh my god, look at you! You’re adorable!” He pulled you off before you could asphyxiate yourself, and crouched down to cup your face in his hands. He kissed your forehead and ruffled your hair, shaking some water out of it. “Heh, I’m real lucky, aren’t I? I got the best little cocksucker in this damn place, all to myself. Such a good boy.”

There it was again. He had to know what he was doing. Like Pavlov and his dog, he was conditioning you, training you to be his dog, and it was working. You were on your knees, panting with your tongue hanging out, covered in drool, being rewarded with headpats and kisses from your master. You were so happy, so proud to be doing a good job. You let your eyes close and your head lull, giggling and basking in his affection. 

Lalo took note of the effect he had on you. “You really like it when I call you that, yeah? And when I pet you? Dios mío, you're like a little puppy. So cute, so happy, so obedient… I bet if I told you to bark, you’d actually do it, wouldn’t you?”

You froze, taking a moment to assess your situation and how far you’d sunk. You weren’t actually considering this, were you? Then again, Lalo was the only one standing between you and every other violent criminal in here. His wish would have to be your command. But then again, would that be so bad? You liked what he had for you so far. “Do… Do you want me to?”

Lalo blinked a few times, like he wasn’t expecting you to be up for it. “Y’know what?” He stood up and stretched his arms over his head, letting the water cascade down his body and sighing as he let his tension go. “Yeah, I do. I do want you to bark for me.” He grabbed your hair and tilted your head back so you could look him in the eye. “Go on. Bark for me, boy.”

Before you bit the bullet, you thanked your lucky stars that no one else had walked into the showers to hear you debase yourself like this. “Woof! Woof!”

Lalo cackled, letting go of your hair to steady himself on the wall as he doubled over from laughter. When he was able to breathe, he answered you mockingly, clearly enjoying the role he’d put you in. “Woof, woof!” He took a moment to collect himself and wipe some tears from his eyes before he spoke to you again. “Oh, you’re precious, you know that?” His fingers raked through your hair, smoothing it out under the shower stream and scratching behind your ears as he purred to you in his native tongue. “Oh, mi chico bueno… Tan lindo… Tan lindo y solo mío… (Oh, my good boy… So cute… So cute and all mine…)” 

You weren’t listening intently, instead mainly just enjoying how sexy his voice sounded in Spanish. Though when you did hear English again, it was a question that, along with another sharp pull on your hair, shocked you out of your stupor. 

“Hey, you ever eat ass before?”

You stared up at him and shook your head. No client had ever asked, thank god, and none of your previous partners had either. You’d been on the receiving end a few times, and you’d liked it well enough. The thought of being the giver had never crossed your mind, until now. 

“Well, you’re about to. Don’t worry, it’s fun! Shower’s the best place to try it. You’ll like it, I’m sure.” He held onto your hair like a briefcase and spun his body around, letting go of you when his voluptuous ass was in your face. “Whenever you’re ready, mijo.”

You brought your hands up to his big butt and gave it a squeeze, like you were pinching it to see if it was real. Having confirmed its existence in this physical realm, you spread his cheeks apart with your thumbs. You took a deep breath to settle your nerves, and then dove in. You lapped at his hole, slicking it up with a little bit of spit. Not nearly enough, though, so you pulled back and spat directly on it for good measure. That allowed you to slide your tongue right in. 

“Ooh, yeah, that’s it…” Lalo groaned, “Knew you’d be good at this. You’re a natural!” He reached behind you to push your face in deeper. 

You got the hint and started to tonguefuck his asshole, thrusting in and out as deep as you could go. Surprisingly, you found yourself really enjoying it. Your shameless moans reverberated between his cheeks and vibrated his sensitive rim. You braced your hands on his hips and flicked your tongue up and down, side to side, in and out, anywhere you could get it. Lalo was right, you were a natural. 

But he still felt like you needed some assistance. Lalo grabbed one of your wrists and brought your hand up front, your fingertips blindly grazing his length. “Hey. Stroke my dick while you do that. C’mon.” He demanded, and you obliged, pumping his cock as you dug your tongue deep into his ass. You knew you had it right when he said, “Oh, there you go! Can’t forget that, right?”

You definitely could not. You were drunk off his cock and addicted to his ass. Everything about him was intoxicating. You stuck your tongue out and swiped it down over his rim and to his balls, sucking on one, then the other. When you got your fill of that, you spat on his hole again and went back to tonguefucking him. 

You must have been doing a good job, because Lalo couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Ay, te chico sucio, lámelo. Lame me pinche culo, puto. Usa ese pinche boca sucia. ¿Te gusta, verdad? ¿Te gusta lamiendo mi ano? Claro que te gusta, maricón. (Ay, you dirty boy, lick it. Lick my fucking ass, whore. Use that dirty fucking mouth. You like that, right? You like licking my asshole? Of course you like it, faggot.)” He hissed in pleasure and kept talking, “Carajo, te sientes tan bueno. (Fuck, you feel so good.)”  

You couldn’t tell exactly what he was saying, but he said it with a lot of conviction and passion. Your tongue must have grazed his prostate, because when it did, he cried out salaciously and leaked precum all over your fingers. “¡Ay, Dios mío! (Ah, oh my God!)” 

You were ready to hit that spot over and over, but Lalo was quicker than you were, and pulled your face out by your hair. “Alright! That’s enough of that!” He laughed as he turned to you and petted your hair again. “A few seconds longer and I would’ve been done for! Told you you’d be good at it! Good boy! Such a good boy!”

You whined like the pathetic little dog you were, and took his praise to heart. “Thank you, Lalo…”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Now, come here.” He crouched down to pick you up off the floor and stand you upright. Once he had you on your own two feet, he backed you up against the wall. Lalo’s lips interlocked with yours faster than you could process it. His hand moved with the same urgency, rushing to slip between your legs. Predictably, your dick was rock hard and your cunt was soaking wet. Lalo chuckled as he rocked his fingers against you. “Awww, look who’s excited! You want me that bad?”

You started to grind your hips into his hand while he sucked and bit your neck. “Yeah… Yeah, fuck… Y-Yeah…”

Lalo ripped his lips off you with enough intensity that was sure to bruise. “Tell me what you want.”

Because it could never be that easy, right? You’d always have to put yourself down before getting what you want. Though this time, you were feeling playful. You stuttered out a snarky response. “Isn’t- ah… Isn’t it kinda obvious?”

Lalo seemed to like your snark, supplementing it with some of his own. “Oh, it’s very obvious.” He grabbed you by your hips and lifted you off the floor, lining your hole up with his cock. You squirmed, trying to fineagle it in yourself, but he kept you still. “But I want to hear you say it first. Tell me, what do you want me to do with you?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “F-Fuck me… Fuck me right now, please… Please…”

Rather than quench your thirst, Lalo fanned the flames. “Right now? You want it right here? Anyone could walk in and see us, y’know.”

That was true, though his tone implied that it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Quite honestly, he made it sound kind of alluring. You pushed it out of your mind, consenting to anything that’d get his cock inside you faster. 

You shook your head. “That’s… gah, that’s fine, I don’t care… I don’t care, please, just… Just fuck me, already…”

Lalo laughed, “Alright, alright, I will! So needy!” and brushed some wet hair out of your face. “Such a needy little puppy...”

Before you could even think of reacting, he slammed your hips down and filled you to the brim. The stretch was intense, enough for you to let out an involuntary cry of, “Oh, fuck!”

…

Having realized how great the acoustics were in the prison showers, you slapped your hand over your mouth and shut your eyes, not wanting to test your vocal performance capabilities any longer. 

Lalo took your wrists one at a time and put your hands on his shoulders, “No, no. Look at me. Don’t be shy…” He took hold of your hips again and squeezed hard enough for you to pop your eyelids open. After making sure you two were eye to eye, he thrust himself up into you. You moaned reflexively, like he’d just hit the squeaker on a chew toy. A dog’s chew toy. “Let them hear you, doggy.”

That was easy enough, because Lalo had you practically howling as he fucked you up against the shower wall. Within a matter of seconds, other prisoners came in to investigate, and you had amassed an audience.

“Yooo, check out what Salamanca’s got.”

“Holy shit!”

You yelped and snapped your neck to the side, where you saw two of your fellow inmates, two burly dudes fully clothed in prison orange, ogling your naked body. You repeatedly tapped Lalo’s chest to get him to stop. 

But he didn’t. He couldn’t give less of a fuck that they were there, let alone that they were talking about you. They were beneath him. Literally. Little did you know, you’d gotten lucky. The one guy you stumbled upon in the shower, the sweet, sexy, salt-and-pepper Lalo Salamanca, who had promised to keep you safe, just so happened to be top dog among everyone locked up in MDC Albuquerque. Hell, even the guards kissed his ass everywhere he went, though with not as much tongue as you did. He barked an order at you, like you were but one of the many people who did what he said. “Don’t look at them, look at me.”

You pouted and whined as Lalo fucked you into submission, rolling your head back to face him at his command. Still, even though you were a whiny, weak, submissive, slutty little bitch, you had the nerve to question him. “Nghhhh, but they’re staring at me…”

“So?” Lalo’s tone let you know how stupid that was, “I’m not gonna stop,” but he was quick to sweet talk you into it. That sneaky, sexy, Salamanca. “Everyone’s gotta find out you’re owned, somehow. Might as well have a little fun with it, yeah? And besides,” He gave you an especially hard thrust. “I think you like getting watched.”

You did. You really, truly did. As more and more prisoners packed into the tight corridor of the shower, you heard more and more voices join the ensemble. At one point, Lalo had pulled you in for a kiss, and when it was over, you were stuck staring at the spectators. You weren’t sure exactly how many of your peers were out there, definitely more than you could count on your hands, but they were all talking about you. 

“Look at that!”

“Who’s this little faggot?”

“Dunno. Never seen him before.”

“I hear he’s a whore. Just arrived today. Got half a year for prostitution.”

“No way! You think Salamanca was the one pimping him out?”

“Probably was. He’s lettin’ the kid have it.”

“You like what they’re saying about you? That you’re my whore? Heh. You wish you were good enough to be my whore. You’re barely good enough to be my dog. You wanna show them how much of a dog you really are?”. Lalo slapped you across the face like the bitch you were. “Bark for them, doggy. C’mon. Be a good boy and let everyone hear you bark.”

You had no thought in your head, no possible reason to do otherwise, because you couldn’t reason. Animals aren’t capable of reason. As the two of you fucked like rabbits, you clung to him like a koala, and barked like a dog. “R-Ruff, ruff! Ruff!”

The concert hall of the showers echoed with a standing ovation. The onlookers hurled cheers at Lalo, and cheers, leers, and jeers at you. 

“Hahaha! He’s fuckin’ pathetic!”

“Oh my god, he actually did it!”

“Dude, he has to. Salamanca tells you to bark, you fuckin’ bark. I don’t wanna be the guy to tell him no.”

“Yeahhh, get it!”

“¡Tómalo, puto! (Take it, bitch!)”

“Bark some more for us, doggy!”

“He’s a dog, alright. He’s a bitch in heat.”

“Yeah, yeah, YEAH! Take it! You take it, bitch! That’s how we fucking DO! You tell my cousin ‘thank you’, BITCH!”

“¿Qué? ¿Tuco?” Now Lalo was the one checking out the crowd. You guessed from context clues that ‘Tuco’ was his cousin that just told you to say thank you, and Lalo must have been looking for him. He scanned the mosh pit of inmates watching the show, and upon realizing that it’d take too long to find ‘Tuco’ in the sea of semi-clothed, muscular men, gave up. “Ah, no importa. (Ah, doesn’t matter.)” He shrugged and turned his attention back to you. “He’s right, though.” He slapped your other cheek, grabbed you by the jaw, and spat in your face. “Say thank you.”

On top of the other animals he’d reduced you to, you could now add parrot to the list. “Ah, thank you! Thank you, La-lo! Fuck! Thank you!”

“Aw, you’re welcome, nene.” Lalo said as he brushed his spit off your face, the evidence of your degradation disappearing down the drain. He planted a tender kiss on your O-shaped lips. “Now, I want you to stroke your dick for me. You’re gonna make yourself cum in front of all these nice men, and you’re gonna keep telling me thank you like the good boy you are. Can you do that for me, puppy?”

Of course you could. You brought one of your hands off his shoulders and pinched your t-dick. You frantically jerked it, not even caring about anyone seeing your body anymore. Thankfully, they all saw you from the side. No one had caught on yet. Over your desperate cries of “Thank you! Thank you, Lalo! Thank you!” you could just barely hear the encouragement and epithets from the audience.

“Yeah, cum for us, queer!”

“We wanna see you cum!”

“Heh. Little faggot’s dick is so tiny, his whole hand covers it.”

“Look at his face. He’s even panting like a dog. I give him 30 seconds, tops.”

30 seconds was, of course, a gross overestimation. It was probably closer to 3 before you cried out “Tha-ank! You! La-lo! F-Fuck! Fuck!!!” and came, spurts of fluid gushing out with his every thrust. Everyone had screamed for you when your orgasm started, but by the time it faded away, they’d been reduced to quiet, confused murmuring. They were perplexed by the excess liquid now dripping onto the floor underneath you. You couldn’t hear a single word clearly. Your heart stopped. The shadow of dread loomed over your head once more. 

But where you saw danger, Lalo saw opportunity. Keeping you impaled on his cock, he kissed and caressed your cheek, speaking with his gentle, generous tone. “Shh, it’s okay. Look at me.” Calloused fingertips poked your jaw in his direction. When you saw his face, he gave you a great big smile, and kissed your nose. “I’m gonna show them, okay?”

Again, his ability to talk you down was uncanny. Or, maybe you were just a dumb, silly little puppy that’d go along with whatever its master said. You giggled, still riding the high from your orgasm, and nodded. 

Lalo kissed your neck, whispered to you, “Good boy. You feel so good,” and set you down on the floor. He clapped his hands on your shoulders, and engaged the crowd. “You guys wanna see the best thing about him?” 

And before a single cheer, clap, or whistle could be sounded, Lalo spun you around, and bared your front to the audience. 

If you thought the prisoners had gone crazy before, they would’ve needed lobotomies after seeing you in full. The collective screeching in the room sounded unhuman. Some couldn’t believe their very eyes, and were left questioning reality. 

“Oh my god!”

“Ayo, what the FUCK?!”

“No shot, dude! There’s no way!”

“That’s not real! You’re fucking with me! That can’t be real!”

“Lucky bastard!”

“Is that a pussy?! Fuuuck, it’s been so long…”

Some knew that what they were seeing was real, but struggled to make sense of it. 

“Wait, wait, wait, so then did he just fucking squirt?!”

“Is that a chick? How she get in the men’s block?”

“That don’t look like a chick, though, man. How’d this dude get a pussy?”

“Shi-i-it, can I get one too?”

“Yeah. I’ll carve you one.”

“I think he’s a tranny, right? Or is that just when chicks have dicks? Didn’t know they could go the other way.”

“Is that why he just got here today? Salamanca wanted some pussy, so he just had one of his whores get caught and sent to him?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me. He could do it.”

“Yeah, he’s a gorgeous little puppy, isn’t he?” Lalo laughed and shook you gently, as if to emphasize your already eye-catching presence. He snaked one of his hands down to your crotch and spread your pussy lips open, showing off your cute little dick and your drenched hole. You squealed with embarrassment and closed your eyes, not wanting to see the hundreds of prisoners salivating over you. “Think he tastes as good as he looks?” 

Wait, what?

Whatever he just said, it drove the peanut gallery wild. Your ears started to ring from all the shouting.

“Well, let’s find out!” Lalo took his hand off your front and slapped you on the behind. “Put your hands on the wall and bend over.”

“Ah! Okay! Ok-kay…” You shuffled back over to the side, faced the wall, and braced yourself with palms splayed on wet tile. Then, you bent over, sticking your ass out with your legs far apart. “Like… Like this?”

“Perfect!” Lalo spanked you again. “Stay just like that.” He groped your ass and knelt down behind you. Having been in his position not too long ago, you could guess what was coming, though you still groaned when he dragged his tongue up your slit. 

“Ohhh, f-fuck, thank you, Lalooo~…”

Lalo said “you’re welcome” by slurping up as much of your essence as he could. He swallowed a mouthful and then winked at the crowd. “Tastes pretty damn good.” He pursed his lips around your dick and sucked, making your knees buckle and your hands slide down the wall.

A few seconds of that had you begging for mercy. You knew if he kept it up, you’d inevitably collapse onto the grimy shower floor. “F-Fuck! Fuck, Lalo! Lalo! Oh, god, I can’t take it! P-Please!"

Lalo popped your dick out of his mouth, and spat your words back at you. “You can’t take it?” He got up off his knees and forced two of his fingers into your sopping wet hole. Then, he rammed them into your g-spot over and over, as fast as he possibly could. When you started wailing, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back so he could growl in your ear. “Well, you’re gonna take it. You’re gonna take what I fucking give you, whore. You’re my bitch. And I get to do whatever I want with you. Do you understand that?”

“Y-Yes! Yes, yes, ah, fuck, yes! Yes, Lalo!”

“Say thank you.”

“Nghhh, thank you, Lalooo…”

“Aww, good boy! You’re such a good boy! Who’s my stupid little slut? You are! Yes you are! You’re my stupid little slut! And you’re not gonna cum until I say you can, right?”

You balled your hands into fists and dug them into the wall, sobbing from the intense pressure building inside you. You knew you were going to break, but you agreed to his terms nonetheless. “Mhm! Ah! Uh huh! I… w-won’t… c-cum… I wo-oh fu-u-uck, I can’t! H-Hold it! Please!”

Lalo sighed, and decided to take the slightest bit of pity on you. “Oh, alright. But you gotta bark first. C’mon, doggy. Bark if you wanna cum.”

You took no time to process the depravity of his request. You just followed the command instinctively, like the well-trained puppy you were. “R-Ruff! Ruff, ruff! Woof! Woof!”

Lalo chuckled, satisfied with what he’d made of you. “Good boy. Now, you can cum.”

And with his permission, you squirted all over his fingers as he jackhammered them into you. Your throat was sore from moaning so much, and you imagined the audience must have felt the same from cheering. It was understandable, though; it’d probably been years since any of them had seen a pussy in person, let alone one that belonged to a cute boy and could gush like a firehose. 

Lalo slid his fingers out of your hole, sucked them clean, and quickly replaced them with his cock. You let out a garbled moan as he bottomed out again, yet he spoke to the inmates with perfect poise and posture.

“So!” He pulled you up by your hair and turned your face to the masses. “This kid here? ¿Este chico? He’s mine, got that? Mío. You fuck with him, you fuck with me, and you fuck with my entire family. Si se chingue con él, se chingue conmigo, y se chingue con todo el cartel. ¿Comprende?”

Astonishingly, hundreds of prisoners from all walks of life, all types of crimes, many of which were truly horrendous and unspeakable, answered to Lalo Salamanca. Thanks to him, you had gone from one of the most vulnerable people here, to one of the safest. You were untouchable.  His peers in name alone, his subjects in practice, all chanted in unison. “Yes, sir!” 

“Good! Now, all of you get out of here so I can finish up with him.”

[jaywhere]

moom, dad and dad are fighting over which of them is the most fucked up again :(

poolverine wip extend, ~7k. i have been confined to my tablet with a bluetooth keyboard so she is no doubt extremely messy and i am also too lazy to post in parts so we will all have to deal with that! skip to *** for the new stuff, follow-up to HER

The doorframe rattles when Logan slams it shut.

With a sigh, he shrugs off his jacket. He makes a half-hearted attempt at hanging it on one of the hooks off to the right before giving up and allowing it to slump onto the floor. His feet drag, toes catching clumsily against the transitional swell between his living room’s wood paneling and the kitchenette’s linoleum.

The world is already tolerably fuzzy as he slams open the cabinet door. Logan closes his eyes against the sound of one of his neighbors showering and crickets chirping in the distance. He pulls out a half-empty bottle of whiskey, pops out the cork, and tilts his head back to take a few slow glugs. The alcohol slides down his throat, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The thunk of glass against the lacquered countertop echoes.

Today had not been a good day. The last few days hadn’t been good, really — although Logan’s not sure he’s ever had a good day. But the last few had been worse than usual. The kind of days that suck you dry, leave you nothing but a husk of a man at the end of ‘em. Logan glancces down at the bottle in his hand, wondering if he should down the whole thing now.

He squints. It looks significantly more full than he remembers.

It isn’t until the bathroom door swings open to release a cavalcade of barefoot footfalls and a cloud of hot steam, that Logan realizes it hadn’t been one of his neighbors showering.

“Logan Wolverine,” Wade Wilson announces, leveling an accusatory loofah brush towards him, “it’s time to resume our eternal battle.”

Drunk, Logan stares. The cloud of steam clears to reveal an expanse of marred skin interrupted only by the bright red kevlar of the Deadpool mask. A long beat passes wherein Logan stares directly at Wade’s bare cock dangling goofily between his legs before he jerks his head to the side.

“God damn, man, put some clothes on!” Logan turns, back to Wade. “And what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Not like it’s anything you haven’t seen before, lover.” The only warning Logan gets before a hot, wet body is pressed against his back is the damp slap of wet feet on linoleum. By reflex, he turns and shoves three ragged claws directly into Wade’s stomach. “Oh, should’ve expected that. Gonna take a second to get over that one.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Logan stares down at him, spread-eagled in the kitchenette with thin streams of blood puddling on the floor. “You are wet and naked. Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Well,” Wade responds. Completely shameless, he doesn’t even make an attempt to cover himself. Logan grinds his teeth and turns his back once again. “Considering that you just stabbed me. No! And besides, I have a job for you. Since you’re obviously done with your last one.”

Logan tips back the bottle of whiskey into his mouth. A few drops escape from the corner of his lips, which he doesn’t bother to wipe away. “What?”

“It’s something silly. A B-plot. Hijinks, if you will. The type suitable for some sort of one-shot. Maybe a two-shot if we get frisky.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” Logan stares out the window above the sink. The foggy, smudged surface prevents him from seeing much other than the glaring approach of oncoming cars down the highway.

“I’m talking about an adventure! Work for the good of the universe! The two amigos at it again to save the world — or at least a very specific suburb of Milwaukee — “

“Yeah, I don’t actually do that anymore.” He takes another swig. Bottle’s halfway empty.

“Okay. Well, if I am being honest, I did accept a payment for this one. About a milli, but if you play nice, I would be willing to split it between the two of us.”

Another drink. A car roars down the highway, lights blazing. A fly buzzes above, imprisoned against the glare of the LEDs.

“No.”

“Okay, fine.” Wade’s exasperated tone shatters the melancholy mood. Logan wishes he would give up and leave already. Wishful thinking, he supposes. Not even educated. “It was two milli.”

“No.”

Logan slides the whiskey back into the cabinet. Wade mutters something he doesn’t bother to listen to. Rather, Logan steps over Wade’s naked, wet, healing body, opens the fridge, and pulls out a mostly-intact six pack. With a sigh, he walks into the living room, collapses onto the couch, and turns of the TV.

“Fine!” Wade shouts from the floor of the kitchenette. “It was five milli, but if you’re actually going to take half of that, I expect a blowjob for my finder’s fee, mister!”

Logan doesn’t respond. Nothing good on at 3 AM. He should be asleep. No way he’s going to do so with Wade Wilson loose in his place. He’s too tired, drunk, and miserable to do anything meaningful about him right now. He pops open one of the beers. On screen, a lion eviscerates a zebra while the narrator drones calmly on.

Damp footfalls on carpet. Wade stands just inside of Logan’s line of sight. He isn’t bleeding any more. “Oh no, I’m bleeding all over your carpet! Whatever are you going to do!”

Logan ignores him. The lion is rooting through the zebra’s guts now.

“Come on, I know you can’t be that busy. You’ve been gone for four whole days.”

Logan’s brow furrows. His head snaps in Wade’s direction. “You’ve been in my house for four days.”

“This, Logan, is an apartment. And yeah, where do you think all those dirty dishes came from?” Wade gestures vaguely towards the kitchen. Logan hadn’t even noticed. “Also, you probably want to change your sheets. And don’t look in your second dresser drawer, please, unless you’re like, way more into me than I think.”

“Okay.” Logan sets down his beer, looking Wade dead in the eye. Very intentionally, he does not glance down to where Wade’s cock is still flopping pathetically about between his legs. “I’m being serious. I need you to get out now.”

“Ooh, it’s serious time, alright.” He bends his knees, turns to the side, and arches his back so his ass sticks out. “And what happens if I don’t?”

Logan stands up. He can’t fucking deal with this right now. He grabs his coat, stumbling over to the door. He squints against a blast of cold air.

“Come on, Logan.” Wade attempts to dramatically slam the door shut. Logan rips it right back open and steps outside. “I can’t be so repugnant you don’t want to work with me even just a tiny little bit — “

“No, you are,” Logan says, just before slamming the door in Wade’s face.

There are a few blessed moments of silence as Logan walks up the half-set of stairs leading to the parking lot. His shoulders tense when he hears his door creak open again.

“Even though I’m offering you two and a half million? This place is dingy as fuck, the X-men cannot be paying you that much.”

The door slams closed behind Wade. Logan keeps his gaze fixed ahead. He doesn’t speak until he senses Wade right behind him. “Pretty sure the X-Men don’t get paid, bub.”

“What the fuck, good ol’ Chuck — who is definitely alive by the way, don’t you even worry your sweet little heads about it — doesn’t even pay you.” Logan keeps walking forward, desperately hoping that the crunch of gravel beneath his boots will eventually drown Wade out. “That’s inhumane. Even the Avengers get paid. What the hell else is he doing with that seemingly infinite pool of money? Also, what do you mean you’re pretty sure? You are working with the X-Men, aren’t you.”

Logan takes a deep breath. Without a word, he continues walking forward.

Wade gasps. They cross into the street now, beginning to walk down the empty road. Logan’s car isn’t even here. He'd left it at the bar.

“Oh my god, you’re not. What the hell have you been doing for the last year then, man?”

“Didn’t I very specifically say that we would not be seeing each other around?”

“Yes, but then you waddled that cute little ass directly into my apartment, and held my dog, and made friends with my friends and your not-daughter, all strongly implying to the audience that we were going to live happily ever after in homoerotic bliss!” 

The sound of skin smacking against skin echoes from behind Logan. Perhaps Wade smacking himself in the face. “I thought you were the reason they rejected me again, good ‘ol Logan wants nothing to do with Wade anymore for completely inscrutable reasons, but — “

Logan’s brow furrows. “They rejected you — ?”

The sentence dies a swift death to a cocktail of rage and embarrassment as he turns and realizes that Wade is still buck naked.

“ — sunuvabitch, put some damn clothes on!”

The emotionless white pits of the Deadpool mask stare back at Logan. “I will if you come back to your sad wolf boy apartment with me.”

Logan scowls. “No.”

Wade crosses his arms and waggles his hips. “I’m the one wearing the mask here. I have nothing to lose. You live here. And you have neighbors you care about. Apparently.” 

Logan turns his head, gritting his teeth against the feeling of complete mortification. With a grunt, he clips Wade’s shoulder as he passes him on the way back to his apartment.

“There’s my peanut, always happy to see me!”

Logan throws his jacket onto the floor as soon as he re-enters his apartment. Wilson is such a fucking nut-case.

— 

“Are you sure you don’t want to get down nasty style? If it’s just about the carpet, we can lay down a tarp or something. Or we can do it in the bathroom. Always keeps the ugly bumping tidy no matter the bodily fluids involved — I highly recommend it.”

Exhausted, Logan blinks very slowly as he stares at the TV. He sucks down another half a beer before responding. “Don’t you have a girl?”

“If by a girl,” Wade calls out from the bedroom, “you mean my fabulous new therapist Lisa, then yes. She is so dumb. Knows nothing about the horrific depths of the human spirit. Never been tortured, Logan, can you believe that? Not even once. She’s incredible. She has me using this new morality app — “

Logan shakes his head, rubbing at his eyes. “I mean a girlfriend, wife situation.”

“Not anymore!”

Wade arrives in Logan’s field of vision wearing a pair of jeans which come to an abrupt end at his mid-shin. A white t-shirt is tucked into Wade’s belt, dangling pouches failing to disguise how comically large the waistband is on him. Strips of discolored skin are visible on his arms and legs. He’s still wearing the mask. He makes jazz hands.

“You look stupid.”

“You, too!” Wade points an accusatory finger at Logan. “Oh, who am I kidding? You pull it off. Why was I cursed with this glorious, mutilated twink body?”

With a huff, Wade collapses onto the couch. He places a hand on Logan’s thigh, which Logan quickly removes.

“Sorry about your girl.” Wade’s hand continues to sit placidly on the couch. Logan takes another swig of his beer.

“It’s fine.”

On screen, a family of gerbils scurry out of their burrow in the middle of a flood. The narrator dully reports that, in these conditions, the little beasts make easy prey for opportunistic predators.

“Actually, it’s not fine. You know, the really fucked-up thing is that — according to her, at least — it wasn’t the loser-era stuff, or the putting her in constant danger, or the severe mental health problems. Sometimes, things just don’t work out.” Wade turns away from Logan and stares into the middle distance. “And that, dear, readers, is a weak plotline, but it’s also real life. We all know you just want to see his one-eyed snake disappear into my wet cave and you’ll take any excuse you can get. Fuck!”

Wade throws his head onto the back of the couch.

“It may also just have been the severe mental health problems,” he admits. “She was really nice. Probably wouldn’t have said that if it were true.”

Logan drink again. One of the gerbils gets snapped up by a hawk in slow motion. “She would have,” he says. “She would’ve just said it nice.”

Wade sighs. “Yeah.”

Wordlessly, Logan hands him a beer.

“You know, I’m not supposed to drink on my medication. But this is probably enough of a special occasion.” Logan’s not sure whether it’s a joke. He’d never known Wade — any iteration — to be particularly stable. In fairness, Logan has never been either.

When Wade takes the bottle, Logan pops the top off with one partially extended claw. Wade scoffs and takes a sad, quiet drink. Out of juice. Silence encroaches.

“So,” Logan starts. “You’re back on your merc shit, huh?”

“Kinda.” Wade slouches into the crevices of the couch. For a moment, he looks pathetically small. “I’m trying to incorporate my burgeoning moral compass into my work now. Man’s gotta eat.”

“Five million dollars ain’t grocery money.”

When Wade sits up, it’s like a switch flips on in his brain. “In this economy? You’d be lucky to get a loaf of bread for 50K!”

Logan ignores him. He finishes off his beer, then sets the empty bottle on the coffee table.

“So does this mean you’re gonna help me? Or fuck me? I was hoping for both but at this point I’d take either.” He leans closer, staring out at Logan from behind his mask.

Logan sighs. “I said I’m not doing that shit.”

“Logan.” Wade’s voice is deadly serious. “My bowels are clear. But if you’re really that worried about it, I can give myself an enema first.”

Logan reaches over and takes the beer back. Wade doesn’t flinch.

“Hey, come on. You literally save the multiverse, heroically switch timelines, sidestep the life-ruining consequences of your actions. You get to live in a world where you’re a hero, and not one where all of your friends are dead. That is literally once-in-thousands-of-lifetimes kind of luck. And you’re gonna use that ridiculous stroke of luck to sit on the couch all day?”

Shouldn’t be surprising. Logan was already familiar with Wade’s personal definition of heroism. With jaw tight, Logan keeps his gaze fixed forward. His grip tightens around Wade’s beer. Fingers twitching, he downs a third of it.

“I’m honestly shocked the TVA didn’t make you go home off-screen, just for continuity’s sake. I guess they want you to be in more — “

“In case you didn’t catch that,” Logan says, glaring at Wade out of the corner of his eye, “that was an invitation to leave.”

“But you did give me the beer. Invitation extended. And I bet if I ignore your grumpy mug and stay a little bit longer, I can get you to do it again!”

Logan doesn’t respond. He’s lost track of how much he’s had to drink. The whiskey from before is just now starting to hit him, thoughts growing sluggish, warmth crawling through his limbs. He downs the rest of Wade’s beer and cracks open another.

“For real, man.” Wade leans closer, squinting. “Why are you not chilling with the X-Men. They’re all alive here. Or, like, mostly. Probably.” His head turns, glancing around the room chaotically. “Those timelines were always really hard to follow. And our whole thing just didn’t make any sense at all, so it’s probably way easier to just show up and find out who’s alive, but like, it’s definitely most of them. I saw Kurt last week. Blue. Tail. All that fun stuff. You two are supposed to be buds.”

A black hole opens up in the pit of Logan’s stomach.

“You like reality TV, right? That seems like your kind of trash.” Logan flips through the channels. The warmth that radiates off of Wade as he leans in closer is probably Logan’s imagination.

“Logan.” Wade whispers. “Answer the question.”

Teeth grit, Logan hisses, “Or else what?”

“Or else.” Logan rolls his eyes when he feels the cool barrel of a gun press against his temple. He continues flipping through the channels. “We will have to continue our eternal — oh, Love Island, I love this shit.” Logan resists the urge to roll his eyes. “You know, the US version is so bland in comparison to the UK one — wait a second, you’re trying to distract me!”

With a sigh, Logan leans his head back on the couch. His thoughts are becoming delightfully fuzzy, now. He plays the game. “You ever get that ADHD testing done?”

Wade narrows his eyes. “No.”

If Wade had come here to commiserate — to play games — Logan can be fine with that. A few hours ago he’d lifted his cheek off of the bar with red in his mind’s eye. Her hair, her fire, her blood. The last few months had been lonely.

An unnatural silence fills the room when Logan closes his eyes. Wade moves, silent and fast. Thighs bracketing Logan’s, erratically-textured palms cradling his cheeks. Chest tight like he’d been strangled. Logan’s knuckles are pressed to Wade’s ribs, all reflex.

“Get off me.” The vision of his blades slicing through Wade’s soft stomach is clear in his mind’s eye.

“Logan.” Wade’s fingers on his cheek are patronizing. “My bro. My good boy. My homie. My personal hero. That would ruin your couch.”

Wade’s body going slack in Logan’s arms. Manic twinkles of laughter in his ear. Spilled blood sucked up by denim and upholstery. Logan grits his teeth. Silence ticks on.

“Which you care about, because you’re broke, because you’re not fucking around with Chuck — who definitely pays people, by the way.” Wade’s voice is loud and annoying. “So come help me, Obi Wan. You’re my only hope.”

The sharp snikt of Logan’s claws slicing through his own skin occurs not half a second after Wade rolls off of him.

“For the last fucking time,” Logan growls. He can feel his own throat rumble, his self-control slipping as the alcohol suffuses his cells. “No.”

Wade crouches in the middle of Logan’s living room, ready to pounce. The upturned corners of his lips are visible even beneath the mask. “It’s not even a hit job. More of a rescue, really. And it’s delightfully silly. And afterwards we can do a little horizontal — “

Logan scowls. “Stop.”

His muscles are heavy, drawing him further back into the couch. He shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Wilson is a clown, but he’s not incompetent. Logan’s heart races against an impending sense of danger.

All at once, Wade collapses onto his ass. He pulls out his phone, gaze fixed on the screen. Logan couldn’t relax if he wanted to.

“Okay, I hear that you’re setting a boundary. Lisa’s been telling me a lot about those. So I’m willing to stop talking about sex. If you come with me.”

“And yet you apparently didn’t hear me when I told you to leave.”

Logan leans forward. Moonlight stretches down the length of his claws in reflection.

“Come on, Logan, we all know you weren’t being serious then.” Wade flaps his wrist dismissively. He’d probably still be cracking jokes if Logan were to snap it. “Which is definitely how it works. And you can’t say otherwise because you don’t even go to therapy.”

Logan says nothing. Wade stares at him, as if waiting for a response.

“If you did, your therapist would definitely tell you that you should come with me. And also that you should probably go hit up your good ol’ bubs the — “

“No.”

Logan stands. His patience is running out. He’s wobbly, unsteady. Wade’s fast. A bloodthirsty cacophony clamors in the back of his mind. Two kicks would leave Wade’s brains splattered across a broken television screen, a left hook could snap his neck on the edge of the coffee table, triplet blades rending flesh from his heart down to his gut leaving him flopping like a fish out of water on the carpet — 

“Fine.” Wade sighs. He stares down at his phone. Logan itches for violence. “I didn’t want to resort to this, but you leave me no choice.”

The sound of dice rolling fills the apartment. Wade gasps, turning his phone screen to display a mischievous-looking emoji with an angel halo. A beat passes with Logan’s head tilted in utter confusion.

“Chaotic heroic. I love this one. Always so weird.”

Swiftly, he pops open the velcro of one of his pouches. Logan’s eyes go wide as he pulls out a grenade.

“Wade,” Logan says. His voice is tense, pulse thundering in his ears. Wade’s attitude had felt strange — stranger — but he hadn’t anticipated this. “Put that down. This is an apartment building. There are innocent people here.”

With a giggle, Wade stands. He loops one finger through the pull ring, swinging it casually around his finger. “Oh, I know.”

Logan lunges at him. Wade sidesteps easily, laughing as Logan sprawls inelegantly across the floor. His limbs are heavy, the air baring down on him as he pushes himself up.

“I don’t know what kinda psycho fuckin’ meltdown you’re having because your girl dumped you, Wilson, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you — “

A hand held over his heart. “Wow. Last-named. The hurt. How would you feel if I called you — wait, what is your last name?”

“I’m not gonna let you kill a bunch of people for no goddamn reason.”

A swipe, dodged. Wade’s pressed flat against his front door. Logan throws his fist, embedding his claws in the wood instead of Wade’s skull. He screams as he yanks them out.

“Wow, Logan. It’s only been six months and you’ve gotten so slow! Or is it the alcohol?”

One last shot. Logan goes for his gut, but Wade’s too fast. He’s across the room before Logan’s halfway through the swing.

There’s no fanfare when he decided to stop playing games.

“Relax,” he calls from across the room. Logan watches in horror as he pulls the pin, tossing the grenade live across the living room. “This’ll only take a second.”

***

“Wakey-wakey, peanut.”

A finger taps his nose. Logan’s head throbs. His eyelids scrape like sandpaper. The sun is rising at the end of a long, thin stretch of highway.

Logan surges, movement stopped by the seatbelt.

Wade clicks his tongue in the driver’s seat. “I told you I didn’t wanna do this, Logan.”

“Sunuvabitch,” Logan mutters. His hands are bolted behind his back, ankles tied together. A thick chain secures the thick cuffs above his knees to a metal rod beneath the seat. “What the fuck — “

“Now, Logan.” Wade’s voice is chastizing, like he’s talking to a child. Logan seethes. “Before you extend those pretty little claws of yours — “

The upholstery of the passenger’s seat tears. Logan struggles only to find he doesn’t have enough leverage to slice through the metal holding the seat together. The seatbelt stretching across his chest locks his back flat against the back of the seat.

“That was literally what I just — “ Wade groans, smacking himself in he forehead. “This is why I can’t have nice things. You know I got this car from Spiderman, tricked the whole thing out, gave it a roof, and you just come in here with your little honey badger shit and just — “

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Logan screams.

“Calm down,” Wade says. “You’d think a little nap would make you less cranky. And before you ask, everyone is fine. It was just a little gas. I can’t believe you thought I would actually blow up an apartment building for fun.”

“I,” Logan rasps, “am going to fucking kill you.”

“Easier said than done,” Wade chirps. “Believe me, I’ve tried. Also, I’m driving this car on an incredibly busy highway so anything you do to me is likely to result in some random bystanders dying in a fiery car crash.”

Logan turns to look out the window. In the span of a few seconds, Wade blasts pasts one, two, three other cars on the right. 

“How fucking fast are you — “

“Uh…” The car twists into the right lane, then back into the left. “110. Thereabouts.”

Logan grits his teeth. He doesn’t know what else he expected.

“You know I’m just going to kill you whenever I have the chance.”

“And in the meantime, we have the opportunity to get in some quality time together while I convince you that — “

“Kidnapping me is not starting off on a good foot.”

“We weren’t on a good foot in the first place, Logan. And you know whose fault that was?” Logan curses under his breath as the right side wheels of the car lift from the pavement as Wade rounds a curve in the highway. “You. And you know, it didn’t have to be this way. We had a good thing going for awhile, me and you. And you had that wholesome daddy-daughter dynamic going on with X-whatever — “

“Her name is Laura.”

“ — not to say that we don’t also have a daddy-daughter dynamic of a different flavor going on.”

“You’re a disgusting son of a bitch, you know that?” Anger coils in the pit of Logan’s stomach as Wade dodges around another car. The violent honking fades out quickly.

“Very aware, thank you! But you just had to do the same shit you always do — “

“You don’t know shit about me, bub.”

“ — and leave. And being me, I was going to go look for you, but Vanessa, she’s all he has his reasons and he has to go on his own journey to figure out who he is and you need to leave people alone if they want to be left alone — “

“So your girl dumped you again and that’s my problem, somehow?”

“Something like that!” He’s wearing his suit again, leather-gloved fingers strangling the steering wheel. “So the job is outside of Milwaukee, not too far from here actually, really low-level stuff but I tried to take ‘em out last week and it was somewhat of a comical failure.”

The car jerks from side to side as Wade weaves through traffic. The back of Logan’s head throbs with a hangover — from the bottle of whiskey or from whatever Wade had dosed him with, he’s not sure. He holds in a growl and resists the urge to scream. The desire to completely lose control bubbles up in the pit of his stomach. He struggles to come up with a good justification not to.

“And I know what you’re thinking, Logan - wow, can’t believe this guy is skipping right over the emotional trauma of losing his girlfriend for the third or fourth time, depending on how you count it, and he’s totally emotionally dodging all of the important feelings that he’s feeling right now.” 

Logan closes his eyes, breathing in and out through his nose. Wade Wilson is a fucking shitstain of a human being. This isn’t new information to him.

“And you would be totally right — “ The image of Wade in blue, scrambling from rooftop to rooftop flashes across Logan’s mind. Bells jingling, laughter echoing, blood dripping from the sack thrown over his shoulder as he lobs a severed arm directly at Logan’s face. The car lurches as he skids around a little white sedan on the right, barely managing to avoid scraping the barrier on the right that stands between the car and the ditch below. “But that’s not even the point right now, because we have to break into a top-secret bse to stage a rescue mission for our comrade-in-arms — “

“Pull over.”

Logan’s head is pounding. Wade finally shuts up. The stench of his sweat is tangy in Logan’s nostrils.

“What?”

“Pull the fucking car over and untie me. I’ll help you.”

The seatbelt cuts into Logan’s chest when Wade slams on the breaks.

It’s a little scenic overlook. A car races past them, honking. Wade turns to stare at him for an unsettlingly silent moment.

“Damn, okay.”

The door slams behind him. He swings his hips exaggeratedly as he rounds the hood. Logan is overcome with the urge to rip out his throat. 

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth,” Wade starts as he opens the passenger-side door, “but why, exactly, would you agree to help me?”

Logan clenches his jaw. Wade unties his ankles first, then unlocks the cuffs around his thighs before he glances up expectantly. Logan tries to mask the seething violence raging just underneath his skin. Given the way that Wade winks flirtatiously at him, he suspects that he’s failed.

“I’m already here, aren’t I?” Logan speaks through gritted teeth.

Wade shrugs. He unbuckles Logan’s seatbelt. “Fair enou—”

Logan’s shoulder smacks into Wade’s nose with as much force as he can muster. Wade’s body sprawls back. His head thunks loudly against first the metal barrier, then the asphalt. The tip of Logan’s boot seeks out Wade’s windpipe and bears down just hard enough to cut off his air. Wade’s eyelids flutter.

“Oh, how I hate to lose,” Wade mutters. Logan crouches to pick up the key from the ground, quickly unlocking his own wrists. “But how I love to lose.”

“Don’t make any goddamn sense, bub.” He rolls Wade over with the toe of his boot, forehead scraping against the barrier once again. Wade is dazed, groaning. Logan scoffs when he feels Wade lift his own arms for Logan to lock them behind his back.

Logan doesn’t have time for this. Or at least not the damn energy. He fully intends to get back in the driver’s seat, book it back to his dingy little apartment just long enough to grab the few important items he has. Losing the damn car should really be the least of Wade’s problems.

But when Logan stares down at him, face-down in the gravel, moaning just a little too loudly as he writhes around on the ground — he feels bad. There have been more times than Logan can count that he’s looked far more pathetic than Wade has right now. Tried to pull himself up by his bootstraps every time, completely failed more often than not.

Logan sighs. He flips Wade back over, hauls him up by the nape of his suit, and tosses him into the passenger’s seat.

He’s about to slam the door shut when he thinks to unbuckle Wade’s belt. He tosses it — pouches, holsters, guns and all — into the back seat.

“Wow, daddy,” Wade mutters. “I didn’t know you were into bondage.”

Logan scowls at him. “Don’t make me regret not leavin’ you on the side of the road, Wilson.”

“Daddy, if you wanted to play rough, all you had to do was — “

Logan slams the door in his face.

“Ask.” Wade finishes his sentence as soon as Logan re-enters on the driver’s side.

“Tired of watchin’ you drive like a fuckin’ maniac.” Logan pulls the seat up, then adjusts the mirrors. Wade keeps his mouth shut about the difference in height — smart. “Gonna fucking kill someone.”

“Fair, but you didn’t need to tie me up. We should at least pull up Google Maps so we know where we’re going — “ 

Logan pulls back onto the highway as soon as he sees a break in traffic, then turns to shoot Wade an incredulous look.

“I’m no goin’ to help you. I’m goin’ home.” He pulls into a parking lot on the left and hangs a right. The dashboard flashes 6:33 AM at him. The bags under his eyes tug at his eyelids. He wishes he was drunk.

“Wow,” Wade says. “I cannot believe the X-Man, Wolverine, is a liar.”

“I can’t believe that known asshole, Deadpool, would kidnap a guy — oh, wait. I can believe that.”

Wade ignores him. “I come all the way out to bumfuck nowhere to magnanimously kidnap you to get you out of your sad wolf boy depressive slump, just as you once did for me — well, I also kidnapped you then, didn’t I?” Logan rubs at his face, trying to tune Wade out. He accelerates up to the speed limit. “And that totally got me out of a depressive slump. Ultimate message: kidnapping works.”

For a beat, Wade pauses as if waiting for a response. Logan ignores him.

“And at the end of the day, after everything I’ve done for you, you repay me by going directly back to where you came from?”

“Yes.”

Wade leans forward. Probably trying to break out of those handcuffs — ain’t subtle. Logan hadn’t bothered to actually restrain him in any meaningful way. As annoying and insistent as Wade is, Logan can’t imagine he has much steam left for this ridiculous charade. 

“You won’t even come with me to help me on an actually magnanimous quest?”

“No.”

The silence stretches out. Wade sighs.

“Come on, man. You gotta be real with me for a second. What gives? We had a good thing going for a couple of months. Little team-up here, over at my place for dinner every once in a while, making friends with my friends. And I know the drinking was getting pretty bad — which like, if I’m saying that, you know that’s real because I have literally a full pound of cocaine stashed away in my apartment — “

He doesn’t. Logan would’ve been able to smell it.

“And you had this whole ridiculous self-hating thing about how you’re not allowed to just cheat and be an X-man in this universe. But things were good. I thought that we were building something good together. And we were going to get past it.”

Logan feels the steering wheel creak under the force of his grip.

“Oh, buddy. There it is. Come on, hit me, baby. Let is all out.”

“You wanna know why I left, Wade?” Logan snaps.

“Yes. Very clearly. That’s why I asked.”

“Because wrecking your entire world, resulting in the deaths of thousands of people, is not the kind of shit you get to just brush off and pretend didn’t happen so you can go play house with alternate versions of the people that you got fucking killed.”

He’s panting. For a moment, Logan’s eyes go unfocused. Particles of his own spit have splattered across the windshield.

“Oh, boo-hoo. So Wolvie has to punish himself for being the big evil bad guy, as if saving literally every life in the multiverse didn’t absolve him.” 

There’s a note of cruelty in his tone that makes Logan want to throw him out the window.

“Doing something good doesn’t make the bad shit you’ve done in the past okay.”

“Mm, pretty sure it does, actually.” 

There’s sarcasm dripping from Wade’s tone. Mean, self-absorbed. Logan aches for Kurt — would’ve told him that sin is in the nature of being human, that he’d already more than proven himself worthy of his continued existence, then make a joke that was actually funny.

Unfortunately, that version of Kurt is long dead.

“You see all these cars around us?” Wade gestures at the vehicles zipping by. “I’m the reason they’re all alive. They all owe me. Which means it doesn’t matter if I kill that guy, or those people, or that old lady, or — “

“You’re worse than the last time I saw you.”

There was a spark in that little rant that reminds logan of Wade — the other one. He had still been alive when this Wade had kidnapped him, at least as far as Logan is aware. Guys like the two of them are hard to kill. The way Logan had heard it, he’d gotten cut to pieces a few months after shit started to really hit the fan. Took him five or six years to come back. Logan had always figured it was the pain that had sent him off the deep end. Now Logan wonders if it was the realization of just how alone he was.

“Yeah,” Wade agrees. “I wonder if that has something to do with the fact that my people keep leaving me.”

Logan breathes in. He waits for Wade to continue, for sarcastic comments. Nothing comes.

“You know this doesn’t have anything to do with you, right?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s not you, it’s me. Oldest trick in the book.”

Logan can’t hide his incredulous reaction. “We’re not dating. You know that, right?”

Wade squints. “Tell that to the Honda Odyssey. And Madonna. And my asshole.”

It occurs to Logan that crashing the car might not be an entirely undesirable experience.

“You have a girlfriend.”

“Had. Past-tense. She left, too.”

“You know you’re just gonna get right back together after you’ve gotten over whatever kind of breakdown this is, right? And your gal’s a pretty straight shooter. Just figure out whatever it is that she wants you to figure out — “

“Not this time. All-in-all, pretty good confirmation that I am actually worth dogshit despite my magnanimous multiverse-saving tendencies. And I’m not having a breakdown.”

Logan wonders if this is what it’s like talking to him.

“You understand that these two situations we’re talking about have literally nothing in common.” Wade kicks his feet. It feels like talking to a child.

“I don’t know, feels just about a gut-stabby from my perspective.”

“We are not dating. We’re — “ Logan hesitates over the word friend. “We don’t have a thing.”

“Oh, how the mind loves to rewrite history. We definitely have a thing, peanut. Or at least we did.”

Logan scoffs. At the end of his rope, he snaps, “You are such a fuckin’ narcissist.”

“Acknowledging that we had a good thing going which was then ruined by you leaving has nothing to do with my narcissism.” He thinks he’s so fuckin’ funny.

“No, thinking that me leaving is some reflection on you is narcissistic.”

Wade leans in over the center console, eyes narrowed. “‘Bout to throw you a curveball, peanut: thinking that I wouldn’t see you leaving as a reflection on my own self-worth is narcissistic. We are just the same, you and I. Two bloodthirsty little peas in a pod — “

Logan pushes Wade away, palm spanning most of the area of his face. “You think this is how you’re going to get me to help you out? Being an annoying fuckin’ asshole?”

“No.” Logan can hear the smirk in his voice. “I think that being an annoying asshole is how I’m going to get you to fuck me. Hold on.”

To Logan’s complete and utter exhaustion, Wade takes his hands out from behind his back. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, pulling up that stupid fucking app again. He glances up at Logan, muttering, “Pretend you’re not seeing this, it made me pop a l’il half-chub when you tied me up. That shit was hot.”

The words, you know there’s a reason people keep leaving you, right? sit heavy on Logan’s tongue. He wants to punch Wade in the side of the head, drag him out of the car, slice and hack and cut until he finally shuts the fuck up. Shame immediately follows the thought. A hundred sets of lips curl around the word bloodthirsty in his mind’s eye.

Wade taps away at his phone, swearing. Logan watches him re-roll multiple times. He had really tried to tear Wade down in the Honda whatever. Wade had pissed him off, and Logan wanted to tear him down. Force him to end whatever stupid little delusion he had in his head about saving the world. 

Wade hadn’t klet him. A fucked-up kind of stubborn that Logan can’t help but admire when he thinks about it. Logan wishes he had that same level of dedication.

“Okay, fuck yes. True neutral. Nice.”

Logan sighs. Can’t believe he’s developing a soft spot for Wade Wilson, of all people.

That soft spot melts away as soon as Wade sprawls across the front seat to set his head in Logan’s lap.

His leg jerks. Wade’s head bounces but remains firmly on Logan’s thigh. “What the fuck are you doin’, you want us to get in an accident?”

“No, I rolled true neutral. So obviously, I’m introducing you to the idea that I could give you road head. But I’m not pushing you strongly either way.”

Logan grits his teeth.

With barely-contained force, he shoves Wade’s head off of his lap and pulls the car off to the side of the road. Pines as far as the eye can see. He pulls the keys out of the ignition. 

“Get outta the car.”

Wade pouts. “But daddy, I can’t. You tied me up.”

Logan watches as he tries to slide the handcuffs back onto himself. He grabs Wade by the front of his costume and spits in his face.

“You,” Logan hisses, “are bein’ fuckin’ ridiculous. Over here actin’ like this is a fuckin’ porno every chance you get cause you think that’s gonna make you feel better about your girl fuckin’ leaving. I am not your personal fuckin’ attention fountain, or your daddy, or whatever the fuck you think this is. Get out of the car.”

He throws Wade into the passenger’s side door.

Logan shoves the keys into his pockets as he walks away. He doesn’t look back. A few moments later, he hears the crunch of Wade’s boots against the pine needles. Without a word, he follows Logan.

“Oh,” Wade pipes up after they’ve walked a few hundred feet in silence. “This is like a game. We’re going to roleplay Twilight: New Moon? You know, in this universe there’s this weird tangential link between 9/11 and — “

“Shut up.”

Wade does. Logan takes a deep breath before he turns around.

There had been a lot of people in Logan’s life that he’d wanted to help only to completely and utterly fail. He remembers how proud he’d felt when he’d first heard Wade mention his ten people, that’s it. Logan had mattered. He had changed something for the better.

Wade stands in front of him, this ball of self-destruction, compulsively pushing and pulling the people around him with his stupid jokes, and Logan can’t help but feel as if he’s failed yet again.

“If I need to beat the fucking horny out of you before you can have a conversation like an adult, fine.”

Wade tilts his head. “Who’s saying I won’t beat the horny out of you first?”

“I’m not fuckin’ horny, Wade.”

The tension escalates. Logan swallows.

“That half-chub I sniffed earlier begs to differ.” Logan says nothing, jaw clenched. “How about this: winner gets to do whatever the fuck they want to the loser.”

Logan snorts. “Okay, bub.”

Wade taps his finger on his chin. He arches his back, teasing. “Just no teeth when I shove my cock in your mouth, okay? That’s no way to win a fight.”

He wags a chastising finger at Logan. It looks ridiculous. Logan desperately wishes he wasn’t into it. 

“Don’t feel like that really even needed to be said.” Logan’s eyes flicker down to Wade’s belt. No idea when he had retrieved it from the back seat. “No guns.”

Wade throws his hands up dramatically. “What the fuck, come on!”

“This ain’t bumfuck nowhere. Unless you want the fuckin’ cops called, no guns.” Logan smirks. “As if they’re gonna do you any goddamn good.”

“Fine.” Wade squints. He pulls each gun out of its holster, releases the magazines onto the ground with a dull little thud, and tosses them off to the side. “No guns.”

Logan’s claws extend with a satisfying snikt.

“And my mask doesn’t come off.”

Quietly, Logan scoffs. “Whatever.”

[futureplayboibunnie]

What is one of them walks in on the other naked? Like could be changing, getting in or already in the shower? Something like that. When it happens, it’s like awkward and they’re flustered but then it get hot, real hot.

‘Curious Hands’

Dr Strange x fem!reader

I love how filthy and long this one is <3

Your skin was crawling. The day promised some unfortunately prolific foes that you couldn't defeat and it seemed that everyone had their egos knocked down multiple pegs. Including you. What made your insides recoil the most though today was the fact you embarrassed yourself right in front of Stephen. Your face crinkled into a frown at the thought- unable to shake your head of the unpleasant thought.

You were dead set on the idea of scrubbing the thoughts of Stephen away, hooping it would take away your shame of making rookie mistakes even though you were a seasoned professional and didn't need any type of critiquing or correcting- but today was different. Stephen was so close to you the entire time and obviously the day you were aiming to impress was the day you foolishly messed up. You shivered as you fiddled with the shower settings to rid yourself of this depressing day.

Stripping off your clothes and letting the water warm up a fair amount, you still couldn't stray your thoughts away from Stephen. You can't really remember when you first started liking him in this way but all you knew is that it was fast acting and potent. He was immensely attractive. Smart and funny. His fucking grey streaks alone, Jesus.

As you stepped into the stream of steamy water it seemed that your thoughts mimicked the steam. The water hit your back and you hoped that the sound of it hitting against your skin would drown out and absolve you of forming any coherent thought- but it excasterbated it all tenfold.

After shampooing your hair, you violently scrubbed your body hoping it will take all of the scenes in your static and haywiring mind away but as the scent of your body wash frayed into the air your hands started roaming your body...only being fixated on one thing.

Fuck.

You glided your hands over the slippery of your body, travelling wherever your deft fingers deemed fit. You were just so tired of pining. Was it so wrong to relieve yourself of it? You traced over your chest and tits just dreaming that it was his hands that were on you; your fingers travelled down to your aching pussy...but you stopped yourself. No. You couldn't be fantasising of him in such a way, it's not healthy and it's never going to happen. Briskly, you turned off the shower and clambered out to get a fluffy towel off the rack.

You groaned in annoyance as you wrapped the towel around your body and grasped another one to dry your hair. stray droplets of water cascaded down your skin as you did so. Mindlessly, you threw your hair towel back onto the rack, too annoyed to focus on the mess you were making.

Stephen was padding down the hallway to your room. Every step he took he was becoming even more nervous, it was an interesting sensation; he never really cared for others opinions- except for yours of course. Tony ordered him to let you know that the meeting tomorrow had been cancelled and in obvious Tony fashion he didn't tell Stephen why. It wasn't a big deal...just tell you the meetings not happening and be done with it- it didn't have to be awkward, he didn't have to make it weird. Even after today, he was still trying to redeem himself; he was cringing at the way he acted around you, having a spell blow up in his face wasn't the best way to woo the most attractive woman he's ever laid his glassy blue eyes on.

He was at your door and he let a breath loose as he paused before ultimately knocking.

You didn't answer.

Stephen knocked again. No answer. Maybe you weren't even here.

‘’Y/N?’’ He called after you but still he was met with radio silence. His fingers curled around the door handle and creeked it open slightly: you weren't there.

Stephen fully entered your room. As he remaked your surroundings, he thought that every single design detail and decoration was irrevicably you. A stash of unread Russian literature that blackened the pages, the unfathomable amount of coffee mugs and knick knacks he deemed incredibly unecessary but you were sentimental and he found that intensely endearing.

Your brows furrowed as you walked out of your bathroom.

As you looked up, you thought your eyes were decieving you when your gaze fixed upon Stephen's face. You blinked up at him dumbly, too consumed buy his presence to be aware of what you looked like.

You were wrapped in a small towel that barely covered your body. His eyes widened at the sight of you and he drank up your frigid movements.

In that split second he saw you, he thought you were a goddess; glowing skin as if you were being bathed in sunlight. Majestic in your stance even though you were cowering and covering up with what little your towel provided. His gaze cast down to the swell of your chest as your hands pathetically tried to conceal your modesty.

Stephen was acting like an idiot, his voice was laced in embarrassment.

‘’Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I knocked and you didn't answer, I thought you weren't in here.’’ He explained as he treaded backwards, trying to save a morsel of dignity.

‘’Uhm. No no, it's my fault I didn't hear you.'’ You chuckled awakwardly, face blushing fuschia pink. You bit your lip to conceal your gulp.

‘’I'll leave you to it.’’ Stephen exhaled as he found the godforsaken door handle.

His embarrassment was consuming him. It was the only thing Stephen felt today, except for arousal when he saw you dripping wet in a itty bitty towel. It was as if you were going out of your way to make him flustered.

‘’Stephen, wait.’’’

He halted in his tracks at the sound of your smooth like honey voice, your face was painted in concern as your eyes connected.

‘’Stay?’’ You pleaded. ‘’Please?’’

On the outside, Stephen's face was blank but inside he felt his stomach flip and his mouth turn dry. Excitement and nervousness was racking his veins and it made him feel itchy, an itch that couldn't be scratched. He was falling deeper into the pit of you, and he had no means of getting out- like he ever even wanted to in the first place. How could he refuse? How could he resist your calling to him? He wasn't sure what you wanted though and he was pinching himself just to find out.

He didn't respond and just walked back to you at your beck and call. You locked the door after you allowed him to enter deeper into your room- still in that little towel. You leaned against your door and you felt goosebumps embalm your neck in his divine presence. You sighed in nervousness as he turned to face you and saw your increasingly concerned face, he attempted to air out the silence.

‘’Tony said that the meeting tomorrow is cancelled. He wanted me to let you know.’’ Stephen blurted out, his mind was haywiring at your half naked form, he felt his cock twitch in his pants. What was he, a fucking teenager? Jesus. He put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from figeting.

‘’Oh.’’ You said softly, you were aloof and nonchalant in your tone- like you were figuring out what to say. Stephen cocked his head to the side to analyse your movements.

You sighed staring at him, the pining and desire for him felt like it had been going on for eons and you were tired of it. You swayed towards him making sure you were light in your steps- clutching onto the towel so it wouldn't fall off. With every step, Stephen's heart was pounding; he could smell the sweetness of your shampoo and body wash and in this light you were as stunning as ever. You were close. Too close. You were sure you weren't thinking straight when you took his hand and held it infront of you. The atmosphere was thick in anticipation- he didn't know what your play was.

He always had to read inbetween the lines with you- your mystery knew no bounds. Stephen gulped when you placed his hand onto the top of your towel, right where your chest was. He got lost into the dark planes of your eyes. He wasn't sure of the last time he was flustered.

You gaped up at him, your breath dripping in a desperation you tried to feign. Stephen sensed it all as his other hand found your waist and pulled you in closer to enclose the proximity between you.

Your anxiety and fears began to disappear as your lips suddenly clashed onto his. You felt yourself melt into him with ease, your body clearly had a mind of its own but you were tired of being embarrassed.

Stephen felt himself dizzying, his nimble fingers wandering with an eased skill you were sure he'd attain- his scars adorned the skin of his hands like a pattern, if anything you deemed it more attrctive that his body had been through hell and back and here he is giving you an inkling of pleasure with just a feather light touch. His mouth tasted divine, your tongue exploring the hidden depths of his mouth.

‘’Can I?’’ He asked, tight lipped and articulate with the tone of seriousness you grew to expect of him on the field- in the bedroom you weren't expecting it however. Your heaving chest told him all he needed to know.

‘’Please.’’ Your quiet beg was endearing.

Your eyes flicked to every feature of his picturesque face- he really was beautiful, cheekbones chiselled to perfection as it shone in the dim atomospheric light of your room. It wasn't easy keeping all of this to yourself and now you didn't have to, you could share all of your hidden desires with him. Oh you thought you were dreaming as his hand fell to the skin of your inner thigh, tracing up to find the bottom of your towel as a means to tease you.

‘’Take it off.’’ You ordered impatiently, voice hushed just enough for it to not be too pushy. A small smile tugged at the corners of Stephen's mouth, slightly overwhelmed at your eagerness for him. He would be lying if he didn't feel the crushing pressure of needing to please you, his need to make you cum- he really didn't want to mess this up, the opportunity might never come knocking again.

Stephen ripped the fabric off of you, mouth popping open slightly as he stripped you bare in front of him and what a sight it was. He drank you in like an exotic wine, simultaneously parched with his absence of being in you by now- he knew on the inside you loved the fact he was dragging it out. His hands were curious and it was obvious by the way they were slowly wandering around at the dip of your waist, you sighed breezily at the touch silently hoping for more if he'd give it to you

‘’How gorgeous.’’ Stephen breathed out so sure, eyes downcast on your perky tits and glowing skin. One curious hand fell to your ass and the other one up to your jaw, you jumped into him as he squeezed hard, hanging your chin up to look him in his face. You were so stunning it was becoming impossible to fathom.

The look on your face was heavenly. You were shaking under his gaze.

You were just as nervous as him. His fingers left indents on your ass, claiming you as you whined.

Your teeth clashed against his with a sweet ease, his hands tangled in your hair gripping onto you like he had everything to lose. It took far too much effort to rip his lips away from yours, your eyes paced his every feature when his thumb brushed over your lips. Your lips parted and you caught onto his finger and began sucking on it, swirling away as your tongue worked its magic, Stephen couldn't help but grin- although he was barely satiated, he needed you now. To taste you, to eat you out until you could barely string a sentence.

A yelp escaped your throat as he bent down and grabbed the back of your thighs, you were being carried on his shoulder to your bed- how very chivalrous. Stephen chuckled, a gasp fell from you as he spanked your ass. Fucking hell, he loved your ass.

Stephen felt like so fucking horny, the ache between his legs was begging to drop but he had to taste you first and by the way he threw you on the bed it was clearly obvious. You perched yourself on your elbows and Stephen was standing just staring down at you. You looked glorious in your wake, so fucking stunning. You teased him with fuck me eyes and a tilted chin; you bore your body to him, so desperate for him to please you. Stephen let out a sharp exhale at the sight of your slick pussy.

‘’How do you want me?’’ Your eyes were wild in obedience, so willing to submit to him to the point where you would have yourself any which way.

He grunted in reponse as he bent down to feel the outskirts of your thighs, each touch illiciting a new set of goosebumps patching your skin like some sort of luxurious quilt. You were velvet to his hands. He licked up your thigh, his eye contact never wavering.

‘’Just like this.’’ Stephen whispered against your skin and his his fingers dug into the soft suppleness of your thighs. His kisses were slow and toturous, almost right where you wanted him to be, the scent of you was inviting and intoxicating and he couldn't want to get his mouth on you.

‘’Please Stephen, touch me, kiss me. I can't wait any longer for you.’’ Your beg was like music to his ears- and with that his tongue was on your glistening wet pussy. You tasted like magic.

Stephen was ravenous, he lifted your legs and placed them on his shoulders. You let out a few giggles encased in moans as his beard tickled the most sensitive part of your body, his tongue flicked and tasted at you relentlessly, your head hung back casting a halo like effect of your hair.

‘’So fucking soft, I could live between these thighs.’’ He mumbled into you, the vibrations of his voice making you shake...totally not the way he was licking at you like a man starved. Dear God, your clit was swollen and he'd barely been there for long. It was all going so fast.

‘’Oh…Fuck…Please!’’ You groaned out, almost on the verge of passing out due to his vigorous lithe muscle.

‘’Baby, I'll stay here for as long as you'll have me. Your pleasure is all mine to have.’’ Stephen looked up at you hungrily. He wasn't finished tasting you but you grabbed his face to kiss at his lips.

You could practically taste yourself on his tongue, damn.

‘’Want to feel you in me first.’’ You whispered a ghostly promise against his lips, a breeze of your warm sweet breath. ‘’Want to feel you so deep inside me I'll feel you for weeks. Want you to mark me up. Bruise me. Tell me you want me. Please?’’

You lay it all out on the table for him, expressing such hidden desires so openly. Stephen's mouth fell agape in pure shock filled lust. Who knew you had a dirty mouth, so naughty. How could he not give you what you wanted when you asked him so sweetly? He was freefalling into you and he couldn't stop.

‘’Sweetheart, I don't need to tell you I want you...can't you feel how much I do?’’

You felt him poking your thigh. Fuck. Stephen tugged his pants down and his cock sprung free, you head cast down to look at the sheer size of him. Dear God, how was he going to fit? It'11 burn and stretch you out, but it'll feel so good, the dull ache of need pulling at your insides.

Your eyes widened in fear- Stephen smirked as he tutted at you, his fingers slowly wrapping around your neck.

‘’Don't look so surpised, you can take it.’’ He smiled at you menacing, his eyes darkening- you were too busy enthralled by his divine presence that you jolted when he rammed himself inside of you. You were so damn wet, you were leaking onto him.

Your mouth went dry as his mouth peppered bites on your jaw and lips.

Stephen was lost in the pleasure, lost in the way your were clinging onto him for dear life- the bed was rocking against the wall, he was thrusting into you so deeply you were sure he was rearranging your insides. His name fell from your lips as he set a brutal pace. Stephen, Stephen, Stephen was all you came to know- everytime your eyes pried open his piercing blues gawked down at you with a face of increasing aggression.

The moans surrounding the room was borerline pornographic, the whole scene was immensely dirty and Stephen wanted more. He needed you to finish on him.

‘‘Dear God.’’ You spat out.

‘’Not quite.’’

Your scowl was short lived as you felt that white wash of pleasure making your toes curl, mind haywiring as a gush of wetness coated him- he was drowning in you. On nights like this, he was glad he had a photographic memory, he can now constantly picture the glorious face of you cumming on him and it was all because of him. Stephen felt on top of the world.

As he finished inside of you with a prolonged grunt, you kissed his lips to make him not talk- but like always he slithered free.

——

tysm for sending requests. luv u all <333

[write-a-circle]

A pretty strange ask, but... can you write some soft yandere Russia headcanons, please? People mostly imagine him as a very cruel yan, but I think its not close to reality at all. He just wants someone to with him and I highly doubt that he would want to hurt his loved one.

Also, your writing is great! I enjoyed reading everything you wrote, awesome job!

soft yandere russia headcanons

content warning: unhealthy obssessive behaviour, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, violence and mentions of death

thank you for requesting! though this may not be to your expectations, as i'm not the best with yandere content :') also this turned out to be general yandere headcanons for him oops-

At first, you two were total strangers who only ever saw each other at international conferences and meetings. But you began helping him with small things, giving him the slightest well-meaning attention and he is enamored with you. This desperate need for love stemmed from the fact that everyone he’s ever had left him - his sisters, his fellow Soviet members. Russia is a lonely nation.

Stalking. It’s actually impressive how well he does this without being found out despite his big frame. Russia thinks this is actually an act of love.

Isn’t the type to actively spoil you, but will give you anything that he can afford. Once, he ripped out his own heart and hands it to you, fresh and bloodied. He also rips out his other body parts, though mainly organs, such as his liver, lungs and kidneys. Also nearly ripped his own left eye out to give it to you (was fortunately stopped). Russia thinks that it’s a show of devotion, to sacrifice one’s own flesh and blood for one’s partner. While it’s very sweet and all, you wish he didn’t take it so literally…

And you’re absolutely right about him never wanting to hurt his darling - after all, they’re the love of his life! Why would he ever want to make an angel cry? However, he will hurt others who get in the way.

People notice that Russia stops hovering over his “friends” (i.e. Lithuania, Czechia, Latvia), and they take pity on you - Russia’s latest victim. You don’t believe this, because in your eyes, Russia has been nothing but kind to you, and on some degree you felt like you have to take care of him because Russia’s such a poor soul, isolated from the rest of the world, for the world rejects him, and no one deserves to suffer like that. And yet it’s your own kindness that’s your undoing, as Russia only falls even harder every time you show him the tiniest touch of kindness.

Of course, Belarus, too, notices his sudden interest in you, and begins to get suspicious, as she knows that look in his eyes all too well. It’s the same one that she sees every time she looks into the mirror - of longing, of sickly, twisted passion for her beloved. But you? Her darling brother harboring feels for you out of all people?

Belarus seethes with rage, clutching all the hidden blades she has on her body. She is more than ready to slit your throat right then and there. Honestly, Belarus really doesn’t want to waste her time with someone like you, but obstacles were obstacles. Nothing personal.

You begin to notice the strange salty taste in your water. The feeling that you’re being watched at night. Eyes boring holes in your back in the shower. Your clothes going missing, then returned full of scratches, holes and dripping red. This is another downside to having Russia obsessed with you, because you get a 2-in-1 package. Not only you have to deal with one yandere, you get two after you for two very different reasons.

Russia finds out, and does not ignore her like he usually does, no, he yells at Belarus. His voice thunders through the room, and Belarus flinches, but she doesn’t falter. There are tears streaming down her eyes, as she screams at him. Why, why, why, why, why, why, why?

Russia tries his best to control himself, but before he knew it, his sister’s white, porcelain skin has turned into a violent shade of blue. He looks down. His hands were on Belarus’s throat, pinning her against the wall. She claws on his large hands, choking out his name in disbelief.

His heart stops. Russia lets go of his sister, and she crumples down like a rag doll. His mind races a hundred miles, but nothing registers in his mind, not even Belarus’s violent, hacking coughs as she tries to breathe just any bit of air at all in. The entire world seemed spun, and Russia closes the door behind himself - closing off his sister’s cries from the rest of the world.

At times, Russia doesn’t even notice his own behaviour - intimidating others, promising to do… things to them should they interfere with your relationship. You may notice Estonia giving you the cold shoulder after this, along with your close friends, who blabber half-hearted excuses to get away from you.

Hushed voices hang in the air, whispering about how Russia found himself a new toy to chew on and spit out later. Poor thing. They don’t deserve such misery, they don’t deserve to be with such a monster.

There have been several attempts to, ah, warn you of your current predicament. But you’re always left confused of what they were all about, as before the nation could say anything, Russia will always be there. Always. With his usual bright, angelic smile, pressing a soft kiss to your temple and then disappearing along with a nation to have a little talk. The nation never meets your eyes again.

It’s honestly laughable. You reach out to save him from loneliness, and now you were the one facing ostracization. But you don’t know that, do you? All you saw was everyone in your life leaving you - everyone but Russia, who stays and comforts you, just like how you’d come into his life with open arms.

You find yourself staying inside all the time, because what is there outside? Nothing. No one is there anymore. No one but Russia, who comes home every day, always with a welcoming smile for you no matter what he had to endure outside.

He wipes your tears away. It’s just the two of you against the world now. What’s that? A speck of red on his coat? Oh, he was being clumsy and cut himself earlier, there’s no need to worry about that. Just focus on breathing slowly now, you’ll be safe in his arms.

Safe forever.

Thunder boomed. Lightning flashed. Raindrops banged and crashed against the windows, but they were nowhere near as loud as the sound of your heart pounding noisily inside your chest as you tiptoed down the hallway, the gift well-hidden behind your back. Watering them before plucking seemed like a good idea at the time, but now the backside of your shirt was soaking wet.

Your eyes darted around. Just there on Earth was he? The carpet would be drenched if you couldn’t find him soon. Yet you let out a small giggle. The surprised look on his face when you show him would be glorious…

“Доброе утро⁽¹⁾, (Name).”

You shrieked and turned around to see none other than the light-haired man smiling at you sweetly. “Ivan! Good morning to you, too! The, um, weather today’s very… nice… isn’t it?” Forced laughter left your throat.

Russia giggled. “You do know that there is storm outside, да⁽²⁾?”

“I- yes, I do, I- well…” Cat’s out of the bag. No point in trying to hide it anymore. You showed him the flowers, fresh and teeming with life. The vibrant yellow did not fit the solemn atmosphere, where Victorian-esque walls loomed, suffocating you with the dark of the storm.

Russia’s smile faded. You could see the gears in his head turn as his eyes grew bigger and bigger. “Sunflowers,” he said. “My favourite.”

The bouquet shook in your hands. Your eyes trained on the ground. “I grew some for you,” you admitted. “Of course, that may be the reason why they look kind of sad compared to the ones at the flower shops- Actually, thinking back about it, I should’ve bought the sunflowers instead of growing them myself because while doing it yourself makes the gift feel more special, the recipient doesn’t always necessarily want your lousy handmade gift, so- Mmph!”

Russia practically lunged forward to swipe you into a hug. He didn’t seem to mind the flowers getting crushed. “It is the thought that counts, (Name). Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“I…” Warmth flooded your cheeks, and you buried your face into his touch. “Yeah. Thanks, Rus.”

Water from the flowers soaked into the fronts of your shirts, but you couldn’t care less. All that mattered was you being in Russia’s gentle arms. So warm and kind. If only you could stay this way forever…

“(Name)!”

Latvia’s voice echoed through the halls. You looked over to see the small man in the doorway, nearly stumbling over because of the enormous stack of papers in his hands.

“Could you come here for a moment? I need you to fill out these docume-” His eyes widened at the sight of your current situation. “Oh! Good morning, Mr. Russia, I see you’re kind of busy hugging (Name)- Wait, no, nevermind, I’ll leave you two alone!” He scrambled out of sight, papers flying everywhere in the halls.

You tried to move, but Russia’s grip on you suddenly tightened. “Russia…?” Your voice faltered. “The flowers are going to get crushed…”

“Stay with me,” he mumbled.

“But-”

“Please.”

“I’ll give you double the hugs when I finish,” you insisted.

His lips trembled on your neck. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

His embrace only got tighter, like a cage closing on around you, yet you still managed to wiggle out, even just by a bit. “Dip them in water, okay? I’ll be right back.” You gave him a small kiss on the cheek and ran after Latvia.

Russia stood with only your sunflowers to keep him company as he watched your form grow smaller and smaller until you were finally gone. He looked at the gift. Some were crushed beyond recognition, but others were completely fine. These flowers carried the color of joy, the color of warmth, the color of sunshine. The color of your love for him.

He pressed a kiss to the bouquet. Latvia was going to regret this later.

Translations:

⁽¹⁾Доброе утро: Good morning

⁽²⁾да: yes

Last edited: 4/12/2022

[thomasshelbydrabbles]

Everything’s a Negotiation (Part 2/?)

Pairing: Modern!Tommy Shelby x OC

Warnings: series typical violence, language, sexual situations

Summary: Mackenzie receives multiple offers from the officers of the Shelby Brothers Company Limited.

Word Count: 3075

A/N: Here’s another bit. Let me know what you think and if you want added to the tag list.

Mac stood at the window overlooking the city. It had taken her a lot to get to where she was today, and she’d promised herself to never take her success for granted. She knew how easily it could all disappear. It was why when she’d briefly considered taking a personal day when she’d awoken with dry eyes, a rats nest for hair, and a headache that made her wish she were hungover, she’d forced herself into the shower and then to the office. Zeus laid on the couch on the opposite wall. The thought of leaving him at home this morning never crossed her mind.

The phone on her desk buzzed, and again, she wanted to ignore it. She had a clear calendar for most of the morning, but with a shake of her head she crossed to the desk and answered. 

“You’ve got a walk-in, but he’s willing to wait or make an appointment if you don’t have time now.” 

Mac pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, it’s alright. Send him in.” 

Zeus perked up as he heard the knock on the door. 

Thomas Shelby strode into the room wearing another three piece suit and peaked cap. Before she could utter a command, Zeus jumped from the couch, dashed to where he stood and jumped up, trying to lick Tommy’s face. Tommy scratched between his ears before uttering Sitz. In awe, she watched Zeus do as he was told.

“Looks like you’ve made a friend.” 

“I’ve a way with animals,” he glanced up at her, mirth dancing in his eyes. “It’s the Gypsy in me.” 

“Since I doubt Zeus is the reason you stopped by my office, what is it I can do for you, Mister Shelby.” 

He took off his hat and gloves, shoving both into his coat pockets before glancing up at her. 

“Tommy. After last night, I think we’re a bit past the formalities, eh?” 

She blushed like a schoolgirl and hated herself a bit for it. What was it about this man? 

“Very well, what can I do for you, Tommy?”

“I’ve come to discuss business.” 

“I appreciate what you did for me last night, truly. Don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to Zeus. He would have shot him, too. That’s the only reason I called him off. He’s a good dog, don’t deserve to die from a bullet shot by a fucking cunt of a coward. Knew he wouldn’t kill me, right? No point in it. I’m the golden goose, and he was going to serve me right up. Use the gun to get me into his car, or mine - drive me right to you or some other nefarious type he’d made a deal with, maybe someone less inclined to be polite about it all.” 

Mac heard the words streaming out of her mouth, felt her heart rate increase as they came out more rapidly. She couldn’t stop though, not the words, not the pace, not the frantic way her heart pounded in her chest, the way the air seemed too thin in the office, as though it was being sucked out and there was none left for her. 

“Who kills a dog? But, he would have. And Zeus wouldn’t have let go, see, so you would have come inside and seen Zeus’ teeth still buried in Rodney’s arm, but he’d be dead, so he’d just be hanging there, maybe the force of the shot would have taken them both to the ground, but what would be the point because he’d be dead - ”

“Mackenzie!”

Warm hands on her cheeks startled her out of her spiral. When had he crossed the room? How had he closed the distance between them without her noticing? She felt his thumbs wipe the tears from her cheeks. God, she didn’t even know when she’d begun crying. Perhaps she should have taken that personal day. Distantly, she heard Zeus whine, felt his bulk leaning against her legs.

“Breathe with me, love,” Tommy’s voice was quiet, soothing. “Look at me.” 

Blinking rapidly, Mac glanced up. Tommy took one of her hands in his, placed it against his chest. She could feel the finely woven material of his vest, the heat of him, the beating of his heart. 

“That’s it. Listen to me voice and breathe when I do, right?” 

She did as he instructed, felt his chest move in and out, forced hers to do the same. 

“There’s a good girl, keep breathing with me.” 

They could have been standing there for hours or minutes, but eventually she felt herself calm. Tommy’s hands slid around her back, pulling her all to willing body against his. His body was like a furnace, warm, safe. He held her as though he had nothing more important to do, as though he could stay in that moment forever. 

She shook her head to clear the last of the fog from it. Taking a step back from him, feeling his warmth leave her, she bent down to sink her fingers into Zeus’ fur. What an idiot she must look like. Mac forced herself to stand firm, not to throw herself back into his arms. 

“Thanks.” 

He inclined his head. 

“You wanted to discuss business, but I’ve already given you my answer.” 

“I’m here to renegotiate.” 

“My display last night and this morning might have given you the wrong impression about me, but Stronghold is a fairly successful security firm. Granted, I do rely a bit too heavily on digital security, which after last night I will need to reassess - thanks, by the way, for the new door. And sneaky of you slipping the new key on last night when you dropped me off.” Mac paused, tilted her head. “I know exactly why Rodney offered my services to you.”

She moved back to the window and pointed across the street. “See, if I ran that cafe down there, I doubt you would have been so keen to accept Rodney’s offer no matter how famous the Bakewell tarts are.”

He had that same damn smirk on his face as he leaned against the wall, hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Me younger brother, Finn, he enjoys a Bakewell tart.” 

Mac chuckled and shook her head. “I know what you do, Tommy. I know what type of business a man like you operates.” 

“Ran a background check on me, eh?” 

“As soon as you left the office, I pulled up everything I could find. You’re a dangerous man with an interesting portfolio of business.”

“Then you know exactly why I want your services.” 

She crossed her arms. “That’s not what you wanted from me last night.” 

Why had she said that? 

Tommy crossed the room in quick steps. He braced his hands on the window on either side of her head, effectively boxing her in. She swallowed thickly as his cerulean eyes snared her again. 

“I still want that, love. Been thinking about bendin’ you over that desk, flippin’ your skirt up and fuckin’ you. Wanna hear your voice shout me name as I make you come on my cock.” 

“Oh.” 

He chuckled darkly at her reply. Her mind was filled with nothing but white noise. Then she felt his nose along her neck, felt the faintest press of his lips to her skin. 

“Smell bloody amazing.” 

“Tommy - ”

He pulled back. She noted his dilated pupils, the way his breath wasn’t quite even. Knowing she affected him made her feel a bit smug, especially because he utterly destroyed her, kept her completely unbalanced. 

“Work for me, Mackenzie.” 

“You’re a liability.” 

“I’m a businessman who could provide access to other businessmen with interestin’ portfolios.” 

“I know something about those other businessmen. I run a security company, and you’re too big a risk. You’re just as likely to make friends as you are enemies. Some of your friends are, have been, and likely will be your enemies…again. I can’t take on your business and then take on the business of someone you’re doing work with because when one or both of you decides to go to war, I’m caught in the middle, knowing too much for either party to be completely comfortable.” 

Mac took a breath and walked over to where Zeus had settled himself on the couch. Sitting next to him, she scratched behind his ears. 

“I know that look,” she said, watching Tommy pull a cigarette from his pocket. “You’re going to assure me there won’t be a war, but I know that look in your eye. Man like you gets bored easily, so you like war because it keeps your mind occupied. Then you’ll tell me, or even better, you’ll promise me that I won’t be caught in the middle. Or that you’ll protect me. Use last night as an example of your expert protection skills.” 

“Got me all figured out then ‘ave you?” 

She smiled at him. “Wouldn’t be very good at my job if I didn’t have a decent start at it.” 

“Go out with me.”

“What?”

It was like whiplash keeping up with this man. She’d always been good at solving puzzles, and filling in the missing pieces, but every time she thought Tommy would zig, he’d zag and she wasn’t prepared for it. 

“Friday.” 

“I haven’t said yes.” 

Tommy rolled the unlit cigarette along his bottom lip. He pointed at her with it as he moved towards the door. One hand on the knob, he glanced at her from over his shoulder. 

“I’ll pick you up at 8.” 

 Mac didn’t hear anything from any Shelby for the next twenty-four hours, and she allowed herself to believe she wasn’t a little disappointed about it. Not that Tommy had been too far from her mind. No. She continued to run various searches on the Shelby family and their known associates. Just as she’d suspected with her initial background run, he was a ruthless businessman in both his legal and less legal dealings. He’d been in business with Alfie Solomons, Darby Sabini - betrayed them both, gone back to work with Solomons. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she closed her laptop and pushed back from the desk. Standing at the window, she glanced down at the cafe. Maybe she could change her career. Reinvent herself and move back to the States, put the charm of London behind her. 

With a sigh, she moved back to her desk. She wouldn’t leave; it would feel too much like giving up. The knock on her door caught her off guard. Looking down at the clock on her desk, she muttered a curse under her breath. So caught up in her wayward thoughts, she was completely unprepared for her two-o’clock appointment. 

Smoothing down her skirt as she moved to the door, Mac reminded herself that she was a goddamned professional and opened the door with a bright smile on her face. 

“Hi, please come in.” 

Her two-o’clock smiled at her, and she swore there was something familiar about the look of his face, the cut of his suit. Shaking it off, she rounded her desk and took a seat at her desk. Opening her laptop as he situated him across from her, she quickly glanced through the notes she’d prepared for this meeting. 

“Hi, Mr. Gray. Welcome to Stronghold. Can I offer you a coffee or tea before we get started?” 

There. She could be a professional. 

He flashed a smile at her and she had to blink to dissipate the overlay of Tommy’s face that came to her mind. Maybe she should have let him fuck her over her desk, then she get him out of her system. She frowned at the thought, not sure she wanted him completely out of her system. Focus. Damnit. 

“Tea would be lovely, thanks. And please, call me Michael.” 

Pressing the intercom on her phone, she waited for Katie to answer.

“Yes, Miss Theil?”

“Hi Katie, can I please get a cup of tea for Mr. Gray and I could use another coffee while you’re at it, thanks.”

“Be right in with that.” 

Mac pulled a notebook and pen in front of her and looked up at her potential client. 

“While we wait, Michael, why don’t you tell me a bit about the company, the needs, and any budgetary concerns you might have. We personalize all of our services here to best meet the needs of each client we sign on.” 

“‘Course.” He pulled a file from his briefcase and handed it to her. 

Taking it from him, Mac felt her eyes grow comically wide as she took in the company name in bold font on the front page. Glancing up at Michael Gray, she noted a familiar grin tucked into the corner of his mouth. 

Before she could say anything, Katie came in with their drinks. She forced a smile as her assistant placed a fresh mug of coffee on her desk, and - not for the first time this week - she wished she kept a bottle of something strong in her desk. When the door clicked closed, she pushed away from the desk and stood to her feet. 

“I’ve already given Mister Shelby my answer.” 

“Didn’t even read the offer.” 

Lips pursed, she glanced at him. He hadn’t moved, and from the way he’d settled himself into the chair, he had no intention to leave. 

“Gray your actual last name, or did you make it up to get an appointment?” 

A full grin split his face. “Why would I lie about me name?” 

“You’re a Shelby.” 

“Cousin.” 

“Ah.”

“Hear me out, alright? Before you throw me out on my arse.” 

She felt her shoulders slump. If she asked him to leave now, she had a strong feeling that he’d be back. Or one of the other brothers, or another cousin. Given what she’d learned about the family, it wouldn’t at all surprise her if Tommy filled her entire schedule with brothers, cousins, friends until she capitulated. She sat back down.

“Outlined in there,” Michael gestured towards the folder. “Is a business offer that would have any other security firm creamin’ their pants to sign. As you might have gathered, Tommy’s not used to havin’ someone tell ‘im no.” 

“Being told no is character building.” 

Michael laughed. “See why he likes you.” 

Mac took a gulp of her coffee, pretended it didn’t scald her. Fuck, it was hot. 

“I understand you have some reservations about our business operations and the impact it would have on your firm’s reputation and current client base.” 

It was Mac’s turn to smirk. “Ah. You’re the good cop.” 

He raised an eyebrow. 

“The brothers came into my office like a deleted scene from The Godfather and when that didn’t work, they send in their consigliare to make nice. Deal of this size would take approval from all the officers, and the CFO - ” she looked at him meaningfully. “Would likely have the most to say given the financial impacts.” 

“Fuck Tommy, I like you, Miss Theil.” 

“Mac.” 

Her correction was automatic, and even as she said it, she remained unsure as to why she’d invited him to address her so informally. Never one to stand on ceremony, she often had people address her by her first name. Katie insisted on Miss Theil because it sounded more professional. Rubbish, but it made Katie happy, so she’d stopped fighting that battle months ago. 

“I’ll be honest, Mac. I didn’t want this deal. When Tommy first brought it to me, I thought he was mad or drunk. We don’t take payment like that, especially not from women. Rodney Bouchard’s a fuckin’ cunt. It would be stupid to have the company further involved with his family, right? Then, I looked into your company. You’ve an impressive background for an American.” 

Mac flipped him off. 

Michael laughed. 

“Oh my god,” Mac exclaimed, dropping her hand. 

“That was fuckin’ brilliant, sweetheart, don’t be apologizin’.”

“It was unprofessional.”

Michael stopped laughing, looked at her with the most serious look she’d seen on his face since he’d walked through her door. 

“It was honest.” 

She nodded. 

“Look at page five.” 

Flipping through the pages, she stopped on page five and read through the impressive listing of businesses and holdings. 

“Now, page ten.” 

The number on the page had to be a joke. No way anyone would pay that for what her company did.

“You’re insane.” 

“We pay a good price for a good product.” 

“Fuck.” 

“Should be enough to cover any concerns you might have about doin’ business with Shelby Brothers Limited.”

“It’s not what’s listed that I have concerns about.” 

“We’d only expect you to work with the businesses listed.” 

Mac nodded. “Just me knowing you have business that aren’t listed is a security risk, something easily exploitable by…competitors.” 

“For what we’d pay you,” Michael said with a wink. “We’d expect you to sort all that out before it became a problem.” 

“I’m not fucking omniscient.” 

“I’ve a second proposal prepared for you, one that lists all of the Company’s assets complete with a new number adjusted for the increase in workload.” 

“What you already gave me would require a dedicated team, full time.” 

Michael raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t do exclusive contracts.” 

Michael pulled the second contract from his briefcase and slid it across her desk. Mac glared down at it as though she could light it on fire with her eyes. 

“Look it over. I understand why you have reservations ‘bout working for us, but Tommy takes the safety of his employees seriously. He’d protect you.”

Mac chuckled. “There it is.” 

“Wot?”

“Told Tommy not two days ago that he’d make some sort of offer about protecting me.” Mac paused. “There it is.” 

“We make better friends than we do enemies.” 

Mac narrowed her eyes. “Are you threatening me?”

“Absolutely not. Tommy’d bloody well hang me by me balls if I did. What I’m sayin’ is our enemies know how powerful we are. You’d be safe.” 

Flashes of the Rodney holding a gun to Zeus’ head flashed behind her eyes. They couldn't even properly protect her from her own family. No. This was madness. Nothing good would come from taking either of the offers on her desk, no matter how tempting they were. 

“Think about it, Mac.” 

Michael stood from the chair and headed for the door. He paused, glanced over his shoulder with a smirk on his face. “Enjoy your date with Tommy.” 

“Fuck me.”

Part 3

Master List

Tag List: @allie131313

[storiesofsvu]

Escape Ch 8

Warnings: Language. Angsty shit, hurt/comfort. Don’t hate me….

When you finally got home twenty minutes later, you shut the front door, dropping your head against it, a groan escaping your lips. You had your gun and badge back but still felt like you didn’t really know who you were. Sighing heavily, you tugged the small suitcase down the hall, tossing the few undercover clothes you liked to keep into the washer, leaving the suitcase splayed in the room, grabbing a few things while you traipsed up the stairs. The shitty New York apartment certainly didn’t have water pressure like you did, and you were more than ready for a hot relaxing shower that your home could give. You easily spent over an hour in the room, your phone echoing a chill playlist through the room, one loud enough to be heard throughout the house and over the stream of the shower.

When you emerged you did your best to towel dry your hair, fingers untangling it as you tugged on an old Cubs shirt and pair of pyjama shorts before powering through your skin care routine. You gave a soft sigh, pausing the playlist, tucking the phone in the waist band of your shorts, making your way down to the kitchen. Screw your drinks with Hailey earlier, you knew you needed another one before you’d be able to fall asleep in this new/old life you’d always loved. You dumped probably too much scotch into your glass, padding your way through the house, not surprised when you found the light in the office on.

“There she is.” The oh so familiar voice greeted, an incredibly warm smile looking up at you, “Voight called. I missed you sweetheart.”

“I missed you too.” You moved through the room, placing the glass of scotch on Peter’s desk, climbing into his lap, body curling against his chest, head tucking against his shoulder. His arms tightly wound around you, lips meeting your hair as he stroked a hand on your back. 

“You okay?” He asked softly, his demeanour constantly softening you, he was always so understanding and intuitive it made you weak. 

“I fucked up…” You face buried into his chest, he could feel your body nearly shake against him.

“For what?” He tried to keep the matter light, “Voight said everything was by the book, they only pulled you out ‘cause it were too unsafe.” You took a shuddering breath, your hand grasping his shoulder, pulling your eyes up to finally face him.

“No…the free pass deal we made…” His hand stroked your cheek gently, making your resolve weaken even more at the gentleness.

“Sweetheart, if you slept with more than one person I won’t be mad.” You brows furrowed slightly at that, giving him a hard look. 

“Did..you?”

“No.” Peter gave your lips a gentle kiss that you could barely keep yourself from whimpering at, your body magnetized toward his, “And if you did I won’t be mad, we had a deal.” You gave a sniffle of a sigh, 

“Pete…I took my free pass but I…I fell in love with her..” You could barely meet his eyes, wavering at the way his hand caressed your cheek, the way it trailed down your arm, settling on your left hand.

“You’re…wearing your ring?” He softly questioned you, not wanting to push to hard, knowing that you were hurting.

“Because I still love you…more than anything. I made a vow to you and I swear, I’m never going to break it Pete…” You laid a soft kiss against his lips, “You’re my husband, I’ll always love you. I…I just didn’t realize that you could love more than one person with your entire fucking heart…I..I guess I understand the whole polyamorous thing now.” You buried into his neck, “I’m so sorry…” Peter simply smiled his lips meeting your forehead, his arms tightening around you, giving you a soft squeeze.

“It’s okay.” He kissed your head gently, “Why don’t you tell me about her.”

“You sure?” 

“Yeah.” He tugged you tighter into his lap, sturdy arm wrapping around your hip.

“She’s..tall, blonde…lawyer who plays baseball…” He outwardly laughed at that, 

“Looks like you’re got a very strangely specific type my love.” You gave a sad snort to him, pulling out your phone. You’d destroyed the burner before leaving New York but couldn’t bare to part with the memories, saving screenshots of texts and all the pictures, “She showed me around the city, helped me explore, became my little home away from home.” You handed the device to him to swipe through the photos.

“Oh wow…she’s stunning. Good job baby.” You swatted at his arm, scoffing.

“Pete…”

“She got you to a batting cage? You must really love her.” 

“Yeah…”You murmured, hand toying with the sun necklace, “You would’ve gotten along really well.”

“She get that for you?”

“Yeah…some adorable thing about how I’m her little sunshine state of New York.”

“That is sickeningly sweet.” He gave you a little nudge as he noticed your eyes glaze over, lost in hopeless memories. “Why don’t you call her? Get her to come out here?”

“And say what?!” You baffled, “Hi, surprise! I’m back from the dead, wanna move to Chicago and live with me and my husband who I didn’t bother to mention?!” Groaning, you dropped your forehead onto his shoulder, “She doesn’t even know my real name.”

“You didn’t break your cover for her?”

“No. She watched me die, walked away from that crime scene covered in my fake blood.”

“You must’ve given one hell of a performance.”

“Yeah well I was in a hell of a lot of pain, Antonio was so close when he fired the bullet nearly broke my rib.”

“I’ll make sure to give him shit for it.” There was a brief pause as you let out a hefty sigh, silently playing with Peter’s hand in your own. You looked up at him, face full of worry, eyes rimmed with tears, quiet voice shaking through the room.

“Do you hate me?” You asked, slightly terrified that he would, that you’d end up losing both of the people you loved so much over your fault.

“No. I could never.” He gave your lips a gentle kiss, holding you against him for a moment, “I love you. I always will. I just ask that you keep this communication open okay?” You gave him a confused look, “I want you to keep me updated, let me know if you start falling out of love with me, don’t just walk away out of the blue, please.” Your heart swelled and broke at the same time, kissing his cheek gently.

“I promise.” You sunk deeper against him, “I don’t deserve you…”

“Sure you do.” He tilted your chin up, making sure you could see the love in his eyes, “And you deserve every ounce of love that you get. You were alone and completely isolated 800 miles away in a strange city, I understand.” Your tired and emotionally drained brain couldn’t figure out the right words to tell your husband just how much you appreciated how kind and welcoming he was, so you settled for the easiest ones with the most weight behind them.

“I love you.” Laying your head down on his shoulder, you sat quietly for a while, simply enjoying each others warm embrace after so long of not even being able to talk to each other. You truly felt horrible about the entire situation, on both sides, usually having a free pass on undercover missions was fine, you were able to set the boundary, but Casey…that was something entirely different. You’d been so utterly conflicted when she told you she loved you for the first time you’d almost disclosed, telling her everything, but you hadn’t heard those words in so long and you realized you loved her too, and you were done for. That last night, you’d partially been trying to get her out of the bar for her own safety, but more so so she wouldn’t have to watch you die, simply hear about it on the news, giving you a clean break back to Chicago. But no. She’d watched in horror as you struggled to keep it together, at least you’d been able to tell her you loved her one last time