#my murphies tags...disappeared...why.....

[generic-enthusiast]

so i watched the movie version of dear evan hansen and... it's definitely... an adaptation someone could make

[hotchscoffeecup]

those things will kill you

pairing: javier peña x dea!reader

tags: gun violence, broken glass injury, bullet wounds, blood, no y/n

word count: 5k

summary: attacked in a public bar, javier takes you back to his apartment to get you cleaned up and tend your wounds. an almost kiss leads to an exploration of feelings neither of you were prepared for.

as always, big thanks to muffin for always being willing to help beta my fics <3

The bartender places a bottle of beer, sweaty with condensation, in front of you on the bar top.

After uttering a short thank you in Spanish, you leave a couple of bills on the counter and twist your fingers around the neck of the bottle. The beer is cold and slides down your throat easily, but it tastes bitter in your hollow stomach.

You run your tongue over your teeth and tsk, shaking your head wondering how you ended up in this mess. Everything seems like it’s going to hell in a handbasket and all the government wants to do is tie your hands and everyone else’s in the search for Escobar.

You hate how it all keeps you up at night; the cat and mouse. For every inch you eked closer, Escobar always seemed to be a mile ahead. Even when he is right under your nose, he evades capture and disappears without so much as a trace of evidence.

You think too far too deeply about Pablo Escobar and you know it affects your work. How can the same man who built homes and schools for the poor of his hometown be the same man that would blow up a city street full of school children and their families a week before school starts? The thought of it keeps you awake at night because you genuinely cannot fathom how such a disconnect can exist in the human mind. He is a drug lord. A killer. A criminal. But he was also someone’s child, someone’s husband, someone’s father. Could he really justify all of this cruelty and malice? You wonder when enough stopped being enough for him. You wonder if a reality existed where he was just that, a man of the people. A family man. In another life, maybe he could’ve actually maintained a seat in the Colombian congress. In all his posturing and speech making, he really did exude all of the makings of a good politician that wanted to see a better and more prosperous Colombia. Instead, he became that which instilled fear in the hearts of those that called the great nation their home.

The clipped click of a lighter snaps you out of your own mind and the sounds of the bar pull you out from under the sea of thoughts you’d lost yourself in.

“Real sharp instincts there,” Javier jabs as he drags on the cigarette between his lips and settles into the seat beside you. “Glad I’m not a sicario. Getting the jump on you would be all too easy now, wouldn’t it?”

“Fuck off, Peña, I’m not in the mood.”

“What happened? Get in trouble with the ambassador or something?”

You direct a hard stare in his direction and that seems to speak for itself.

“It’s an adjustment for everyone. He’s definitely more of a tight ass, but he’ll get used to the way things operate down here. Give it time.”

You scoff. “Easy for you to say. All you and Murphy have to do is posture and dick swing your way into his good graces. It’s not that easy for me.”

The bartender nears your end of the bar and inclines his head towards Javier. He gestures towards the drink in your hand with his cigarette and says, “Lo mismo, por favor.”

With a drink now in hand, he turns towards you and levels his deep brown eyes on yours.

“Cut the crap.”

Your brow arches toward your hairline. “Excuse me?”

The corners of his eyes crinkle as one side of his lips quirks up. “I’m not buying this ‘I’m-a-lady-so-I-have-to-work-twice-as-hard’ bullshit. You’re a damn good agent and that’s why you’re here with me and Murphy. Ambassador knows that. So, why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”

He takes a swig of his beer and swallows hard. Pointing the bottle at you he says, “and to be clear, I’m not swinging my dick around for anyone.” His eyes flicker over your face and a glint of mischief enters his gaze. “Unless they ask nicely of course.”

You drop your chin and shake your head. “Just when I thought you were being genuine.”

“Hey, I am genuine,” he protests. He pops the cigarette between his lips and grabs your shoulder, the warmth of his palm pressing through your jacket. “C’mon, what’s really eating you?”

You grab the bottle in front of you and swirl the pale liquid inside, forming a small tornado when you still your hand. “I just haven’t been sleeping, that’s all.”

Javier drops his hand from your shoulder to take the cigarette from his lips and blows out a puff of smoke, angling his mouth away from you but the acrid smell still manages to burn your nostrils.

“Those things will kill you, you know?”

Javier smirks and you hate how good it looks on his smug face. “We work in Bogotá. A lot of things can kill us.”

“No need to tempt fate.”

He moves from side to side as if weighing his options. “Cigarettes, alcohol, working too hard trying to prove ourselves that we don’t sleep at night…we all have our vices.” His eyes linger on yours and you suddenly feel vulnerable being called out like that.

“Consider the reasons I don’t sleep, Javi.” You drain the last of your beer and push the bottle away from you.

You press your hands against the edge of the bar, but before you can push yourself up and off of the barstool, Javier claps a hand over one of your wrists, stilling you.

“You can talk to me, you know?” The browns of his irises flicker as they bear into yours and the hollow pit in your stomach widens. You know you can talk to him. Steve too. It’s just hard to be too vulnerable down here though when there’s so much pressure coming down from all angles. If you even look like you might collapse under the weight of it all you’ll get rotated back to the States so quickly, you won’t even get the chance to say goodbye. This is the opportunity of a lifetime for you and you can’t squander it. So, it stays easy to lock it down, despite the consequences.

So, you do just that and lock it down. Forcing a smile you know doesn’t reach your eyes, you shake off his hand and zip up your jacket. “I’m fine, Peña. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He presses his lips together, but doesn’t say anything more. He nods his head in farewell and you turn to leave.

You take two steps before your name rolls off of his tongue and you roll your eyes. “Peña, I’m—” The words die on your lips as you turn, eyes drifting past Javier to the pair on the motorcycle beyond the glass window that makes up the external wall of the bar. The man on the back of the motorcycle aims an automated weapon in Javier’s direction.

“Everybody get down!” You cry out as all hell breaks loose.

You’re airborne as the glass shatters and the explosive sounds of gunfire fill the space. You collide with a thick wall of muscle and hit the ground hard, covering your head with one arm and shielding his body with the other. The gunfire stops almost as soon as it had started and the sound of tires squealing on the pavement echoes off the street.

Patrons scream and cry out as they scramble over one another to evacuate the space. You roll onto your side and groan as shards of glass cut into your arms through the thin windbreaker you have on.

“Javier,” you groan as you reach for him. He’s moving so you know he’s alive. You lean over him and his shocked visage. “Javi, are you with me?”

He blinks hard out of whatever stupor he’s in and sits bolt upright. “Which direction did they go?” He turns his head to look over his shoulder and the gaping frame where shards of glass poke out of the windowsill like jagged teeth.

“They’re gone,” you say on an exhale. “Are you alright? Did you hit your head or anything when I tackled you?”

He breathes out a short laugh and you fear he might be in shock. “Did I hit my head? No, I didn’t—” He stops and shakes his head like he’s trying to clear away a fog. His brow pinches as he looks around at the damage. Tables and chairs are upended and cast aside. Broken bottles line the floor where they shattered upon impact off the shelves behind the bar and litter the ground. You’re surprised to find that, miraculously, no bodies littered the ground in the wake of the attack.

A hand cups your chin and you reflexively reach for the gun tucked into your waistband.

Peña raises his other hand in surrender. “I think you might’ve hit yours though.” His eyes shift just above your field of vision and that’s when you feel the hot sticky substance drip down onto your lashes. You raise a hand and touch it, surprised to find a smear of red staining your fingertips when you look at them.

“I think that’s just from the glass. It’s all in my jacket.”

Javier clambers to his feet and dusts off his jeans. Bits of glass hit the floor as it rattles off of his leather jacket, a much heartier material that you wish yours had been made from.

He extends a hand towards you and you take it, wincing as he pulls you to your feet. With a grunt, you tug the zipper down and shrug out of your jacket. There’s no saving the ripped and bloodied material so you drop it on the floor.

“Fuck, you’re hit.”

The words don’t register as Javi closes the gap between the two of you and the smell of cigarettes and cologne envelops you in a strange, yet almost comforting cloud of, well, Javier.

He scrubs a hand over his face as he hesitates to touch you. You hear him muttering to himself, but the words don’t quite register. Funny how a moment ago you were worried about him going into shock.

A sharp sting of pain brings you back to your senses as Javier presses a folded up bar towel to your shoulder. “Hold pressure on that,” he instructs. He turns and reaches back to take your hand in his. “Come on, I’ll get you out of here. I need to get you taken care of.”

And that’s how you find yourself in the passenger seat of Javier Peña’s Jeep with blood seeping through a dirty bar rag onto the upholstery of his passenger seat. At some point he reaches over you and retrieves the satellite phone from within the glove box to call in the attack.

“No, Murphy. I’m fine. She’s fine. Minor wounds it seems. No—no, don’t wake Connie. I’ve got a kit at my apartment. Yes, I’ll keep an eye on her. I’ve already called the Ambassador and Martinez. Yeah, yeah. Ok, goodnight. I’ll call you if anything happens.”

By the time he pulls into his garage, the adrenaline wears off and the sharp sting of pain in your shoulder becomes glaringly obvious. Javier gets out and moves to open the door for you. He places a supporting hand under your uninjured arm as you maneuver your way out of the car in the confined space. Your body brushes against the firm plane of his as you do and you don’t miss the way he stiffens in response.

“Let’s get you inside,” he murmurs and drops his hand to the small of your back to guide you towards the door.

His apartment is simple, built in the same style as yours and Murphy’s. They all share the same furniture and simple decorations, though yours doesn’t have quite the number of liquor bottles perched on various surfaces and vaguely remember what he’d mentioned about vices at the bar. The smells strongly of him, of his earthy cologne and cigarette smoke. You’ve grown used to it from sitting across from him at work for the last six months. There’s something oddly comforting about it even though the amount he and everyone else smokes bothers you to no end.

“Why don’t you sit down?” He says, gesturing toward the couch.

You do as he suggests and sit on the couch, only on the edge though. You don’t want to ruin the upholstery like you’d done with his car. Plus, you’re fairly certain there’s still small shards of glass embedded in the skin of your back and the idea of pressing those in any further makes you queasy.

Javi disappears into the bathroom, muttering expletives under his breath in English and in Spanish. He returns with a small red first aid kit, a couple of wash clothes, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

He climbs onto the couch and perches on the back of the sofa, his legs spread on either side of your body. “Hold these,” he says, and doesn’t wait to dump the items into your lap.

With gentle hands, he peels the bar rag up and off your shoulder. “Good,” he sighs. “Bleeding’s stopped. Let’s get you out of this shirt.”

You turn your head over your shoulder to look at him from beneath an arched brow and he immediately doubles back. “So we can clean this properly and make sure there isn’t any more glass. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Funny, I thought you liked it there.” Your lips curve into a wicked smile. “I know what you meant, but it is fun to watch you squirm.”

Javier shakes his head and you turn back around to pull your tank top up and over your head. You try to do it with one arm to avoid aggravating your shoulder, but the movement jostles the joint and you hiss between your teeth. Javi catches your hand as you try to pull it over the injury and takes over guiding it up and over the wound. He discards your tank top on the ground and sucks in a breath.

“What, Jav? You see women in their bras, or without them, all the time. Relax.”

“No, it’s not that. Wait, what—”

You smirk to yourself. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s just on second thought, I think we ought to move to the kitchen. There’s more light there and there’s still some glass stuck in and around where the bullet clipped you.”

He gently lays the towel back down over the open wound on your shoulder and you follow him to the kitchen and drop your keys and gun onto the counter before perching on one of the bar stools. He kicks the nearby waste paper basket next to the empty stool beside you and arranges the first aid items onto the counter, opening the kit and withdrawing gloves, tweezers, gauze pads, and roller bandages. He zips the kit shut, determining he has everything that he needs and places it in his lap as he sits down.

A strange silence settles over the two of you as he snaps on the pair of latex gloves and sets to work. He removes the soiled rag from your shoulder and drops it into the trash. The pinch and sting of him pulling glass from within and around your injuries dulls over time and you watch as the tiny pile of red stained shards grows on the counter next to you.

“You know there wouldn’t be so much of this if you hadn’t fallen directly on top of me.”

Javier scoffs. “You’re right. Next time we’re in a firefight, I’ll let you fall on me.” The tweezers lock on to another small shard and you grimace as he pulls it free. “I think that was the last one.”

He unscrews the plastic cap from the bottle of rubbing alcohol and soaks a washcloth with it. “This is probably going to hurt worse, but we gotta get this cleaned up.”

You nod. “I know, go ahead.”

When he’s cleaning the dried blood from off and around the skin, it just grazes over small cuts and scrapes that feels more annoying than anything else. It’s when he passes over the open wound in your shoulder that a curse slips past your lips and tears well in your eyes.

“Fucking shit, that hurts.”

“I know,” Javi says apologetically. “We definitely don’t want you to get any infection though.” He swipes the cloth over the injury three more times and just when you start to wonder if he’s a sadist, he finally declares he’s finished and drops the washcloth into the trash. The cool air blowing from the nearby AC unit dries the alcohol and relieves the burning sting. He replaces it with a fresh gauze pad and holds it in place with his left hand while his right works the roller bandage into position. He works quickly and quietly as he winds it around your shoulder and bicep. After securing a knot in the bandage, he sits back and nods affirmatively, content with the job he’s done.

“Now let me see your forehead. We oughta get that cleaned up as well while I’ve got you here.”

You’d almost forgotten about the cut above your eye with the adrenaline wearing off and the pain in your shoulder growing more severe. You reach up absentmindedly and brush your fingers against the now dried and flaking blood stuck in your eyebrow. Javi spills some alcohol onto a gauze pad and your breath catches when he touches the tips of his opposite hand beneath your chin to tilt it towards the overhead light.

He swipes at the dried blood and scrubs it free from your eyebrow. When he passes over the shallow cut, you wince and he apologizes. When it’s clean, he peels open the wrapper on a butterfly bandage and uses the tips of his fingers to try to place it so it’ll pull the cut closed. A small smile tugs at your lips as you watch him press his tongue to his bottom lip as his fingers tremble ever so slightly as he makes sure the small ends of the bandage don’t tear.

“There,” he whispers when he’s sure it’ll stay put. His face is so close to yours and the breath catches in your throat when his eyes drop to yours. “Just like new.”

Time slows to an absolute standstill and you feel yourself inextricably drawn to him, as if there’s some tether pulling you towards him and you really start to wonder if you did hit your head harder than you thought in the chaos because you’re pretty sure he’s also leaning in towards you, which would be crazy because he’s your coworker, but he’s also tilting his head and his face is incredibly close to yours…

Reality snaps back into place like a rubber band against skin when the first aid kit resting on his thighs clatters to the ground. You immediately pull away and drop down off of the stool to pick it up and Javier immediately chastises you doing so.

“Dammit!” He curses and your name sounds sharp on his tongue. “You’ve barely stopped bleeding, don’t jerk yourself around like that.” He snatches the first aid kit from you and splays a hand under your elbow to pull you back up to a standing position. He tosses the kit onto the counter and stalks off into the living room leaving you at the bar wondering what the hell is driving this one-eighty in behavior as he paces back and forth across the carpet.

“Damn, Peña. I’m not going to bleed out on your kitchen floor.” You smirk. “Your jeep, maybe,” you suggest, trying to make light of the sudden tension in the room.

Javier either doesn’t or chooses not to hear you. He loops his thumb through one of his belt loops as he shakes his head and mutters under his breath. “I don’t need this right now.”

Your brow pinches and you hate the heat that rushes to your cheeks. You shuffle your weight from foot to foot and suddenly feel like you’re taking up too much space in the small apartment as he increases the space between you and him. This errant behavior is giving you more whiplash than when you’d taken him to the ground and you’re about to call him out on it, when, without another word, he turns and ducks into his room.

Irritation quickly replaces whatever vulnerability you’d just been feeling. “What the hell does that mean?” You ask, your words clipped and demanding. You walk towards the sounds of him rummaging around inside drawers and come to an abrupt halt as he strides out of his bedroom and presses a ball of fabric into your chest. “This,” he says by way of explanation and takes a dramatic step away from you.

“And by this you mean what exactly?” You know exactly what the this in question is, but you want to hear him say it. Frankly, you’re just as surprised by whatever just happened between you and him, but you’ve worked with each other long enough now to know when the other is severely bullshitting their way through a situation and you have no intention of letting him get away with it.

The smell of his detergent wafts up around you from the shirt in your hands and you take the opportunity to try to awkwardly shrug into it without aggravating the freshly dressed wound. It’s hard to start an argument and be taken seriously when you’re standing toe to toe with someone and you’ve only got on jeans and a black lace bra after all.

As you fumble with the buttons on his shirt, he takes a resigned step backwards and collapses onto the couch. He gestures vaguely at the space between the two of you. His voice is softer when he speaks, tired. “All of this. God.” He runs a hand through his hair and falls back into the cushions. “You,” he says, eyes briefly meeting yours and then at the ceiling.

Your fingers pause mid-fastening. “What about me?”

Javier shakes his head. A wry smile pulls at his lips, rife with disbelief, and it fades as quickly as it comes. “You nearly died tonight.”

You arch a brow and direct a knowing look at him. “Javi, not sure if you were paying attention but we both nearly died tonight. I mean, things moved a little quickly for me to break out my calculator and add shit up, but I don’t think all 30 or 40 of those rounds were meant just for me. I think they were aimed at both DEA agents and they didn’t give a fuck who else got caught in the crossfire.”

“That’s not the point,” he responds resolutely.

“Then tell me what is.”

He doesn’t answer, but sits up and pulls the half crushed pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and slips one between his teeth. As he rolls his thumb over his lighter, you feel your already short fuse ignite. Without giving it a second thought you step forward and snatch the cigarette from between his lips.

“Hey!” He protests, nostrils flaring.

You snap the stick of tobacco in front of him and toss it to the floor. “Enough of the theaterics, Peña.” You stare directly into his eyes, refusing to let him get away with ignoring you. “Quit bullshitting me and tell me what’s really on your mind.”

The sound of the wall clock ticking fills the space and the silence is unbearable, but you refuse to be the first to break. Fifteen more uncomfortably strained seconds tick by before he drops his gaze to the floor and scrubs a hand over his face with a heavy sigh.

He slides over on the couch and pats the cushion next to him. “Sit down, will you?”

You do as he asks and situate yourself at an angle towards him with one leg pulled up across your lap.

“Here,” Javi says as he pulls a throw pillow out from behind him and wedges it gently between you and the couch. “I don’t want you to go and tear open anything I got closed.”

You huff out a quiet laugh and thank him, glancing down at his haphazardly buttoned shirt you’ve got on. You notice you’ve completely misaligned what you’d managed to fasten. Ignoring that for now, you kick at his shin and incline your head towards him. “You done with all the tough guy shit?”

Javier presses his lips together and nods. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what happened. I just—”

“Just what?”

He lifts his eyes to yours and you watch the way his coffee colored irises flicker in the lamplight. “There's just some lines you shouldn’t cross.”

“This is Bogotá,” you say, mirroring his words from earlier. “There’s a lot of lines we shouldn’t cross.”

“I’m serious,” he responds brusquely, eyes darkening as he shuts you out once more.

You sit up straighter, undeterred by his obvious attempts to push you away. “Yeah, well tough shit, so am I.”

The way he speaks your name is laced with frustration and uncertainty. He’s holding back and your own frustration mounts. You’re tired, you’re in pain, and frankly, now you’re just feeling plain stupid. You’d heard rumors of Javier’s extracurricular activities with women. Did you really want to be another notch in his bedpost?

You let out a low, wry chuckle and shake your head. “You know what, Javier?” You push yourself up and off the couch, wincing as you do so, and look down at him. “Give me a call if you figure out what side of the line you stand on.”

You turn and swiftly move towards the door, swiping your keys and gun off of the counter as you do so. You use your good arm to shove your sidearm into the back of your jeans and unlock the deadbolt on Javier’s front door.

You’ve barely pushed the door open when Javier appears at your side and yanks it closed. Before you can protest, he pushes you up against the door and presses his lips to yours in a devastatingly desperate kiss.

You can’t control the moan that rushes from your mouth into his as you kiss him back. He tastes like mint and menthols and you suddenly can’t remember why you hate the smell of cigarettes so much. The cuts along your back and shoulder blades sting as the wood rubs up against the shirt Javier gave you, but with his hands pressed against the expanse of wall on either side of your face, you decide it’s bearable.

That is until you reach up unthinkingly to tangle your hand into his hair and a sharp sting of pain reverberates from your shoulder all the way down to your fingertips.

Javi abruptly breaks off the kiss and his eyes flicker across your face, shining with concern. “Fuck, I’m sorry! I just got caught up in the moment. Did I hurt you?”

You place a placating hand against his chest and feel the erratic beating under your palm. “I’m fine, Jav. Really.”

He licks his lips and you already miss the way they felt against yours. He presses them together and nods. “Good.”

“Good,” you echo. “I guess I should head home though, get some rest. God knows the ambassador is going to want a report on all of this.”

“You got shot, the ambassador can get fucked.”

“Fucked, is what we’re both going to be if we can’t figure out who targeted us.” You sigh and shake off the thought. “I better get going. It’s late.”

Javier stops you from turning to leave. “You’re not walking home alone this late at night.”

“It’s down the street, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not walking alone.”

“Then walk me home. Your strong male aura will keep danger at a bay,” you add sarcastically.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what do you suppose I do?”

“Simple, stay here. I’ll drive you home in the morning.”

“And sit on all that blood? No thanks.”

“Okay fine, I’ll walk you home in the morning.”

You consider the implications of that and choose the safest route. “S’pose I could sleep on the couch.”

Javier shakes his head. “I’m not gonna make you sleep on the fucking couch. You’ll sleep in my bed.”

“And you’ll sleep where?”

“Next to you,” he says smoothly. “If you’ll let me.”

You arch a brow. “And we’ll just…sleep?”

Javi shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and shrugs his shoulders, his smile smug. “Tonight, yes.” He steps forward and takes a hand from his pocket to cup your face gently in his wide palm. He places a tender kiss upon your lips. “Tomorrow night might be a different story.”

“I think I’d be quite interested in reading that,” you respond playfully.

“It’s different than what I’m used to,” Javier says and then adds, “but I think change might not be a bad thing.”

You give him a once over and nod. “I think you’re right about that.”

He smiles, somewhat sheepishly, as he says, “I’m sorry for being such a dick.”

The corner of your mouth quirks as you shrug your good shoulder. “I’m not sorry I pushed your buttons like that. It’s about time you open up and actually let yourself feel your feelings.”

He rubs his thumb across your bottom lip and then drops his hand to curve around your hip and rest on the small of your back. “Let’s get some sleep, huh?”

And that’s how you find yourself lying in bed next to Javier Peña of all people, wearing his shirt to sleep while he snores softly beside you; and you can’t help but wonder how many things had to happen for you to end up here at this moment. His arm drapes over your waist, pulling you in against the steady warmth of his skin and you find that you quite like the way you fit so perfectly against the crook of his body.

In the comfort of his arms, you drift off into an uninterrupted sleep and for the first time since you can’t remember when you don’t dream of Pablo Escobar.

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 7 ☀️

Thank you again @agirlandherquill for hosting this special kind of tag game of writing prompts! ✍🏻

the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

For today's prompt I chose "a cloudless sky" easy because my YA Dystopia The Blood Cleaners takes place in post-apocalyptic Arizona. My snippet is a little short because I'm near the ending and trying to avoid spoilers. The scene is from what I rewrote for Draft 2. I hope you enjoy.

Justin and John spent hours riding their bikes across the desert beneath a cloudless sky. They stopped occasionally to set a tiny flag in the desert dirt. The desert surrounding Arthur was full of life. Cacti, desert flowers, desert grass, diamondbacks, prairie dogs, jack rabbits, scorpions, tarantulas, and birds brought color to the desert. Hours passed before life slowly diminished, as flora and fauna disappeared into the wasteland. They were getting close to the Death Zone. They kept the Geiger Counter out. When the loud static cried, they turned around. They found a spot in the clean region to share their meal. John used a match to warm up an MRE. The pasta was ready and delicious. Justin and John ate quietly. After long conversations about how to break into the Steel, they’d earned a break. Justin thought that John deserved to hear something good. “Your daughter believes you’ll make it back.”. John snorted. “Why do you have to be such a damn optimist, kid?” Justin shrugged. “Maybe it’s because I’m not the only one who believes.”

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[pyxis-stellae]

This is the start of my late as hell whumptober posts, with day one:

Race against the clock

Or Frank Woods' thoughts about Mason's disappearance.

Or "finding out what love is too late" but that's too sad even for me

Characters: Frank Woods. Mason is mentioned.

Tags: Call of Duty, Black Ops, angst

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Frank Woods was... Restless.

It has been exactly eleven months, three weeks and six days since Mason disappeared.

Or, well, was captured after the goddamn mess that has been Operation 40. The perfect definition of the Murphy Law.

But this didn't matter, not right now. Not when Woods had less than a day to convince someone, anyone, that the search was worth it. They were going to drop the case soon, and the M in MIA would become a K, and Woods just wasn't ready to deal with that.

Not now. Not this way.

He was restless in his bed, staring at the nicely wrapped. He was never really a gift giver, but Mason's birthday was the only one he knew by heart, so why not, but now the man was gone and the gift was abandoned and would be forever if he didn't convince someone they had to keep trying.

The words Mason and gone in the same sentence made Wood's stomach tighten a bit. He wasn't ready for that. Not that he was an emotional man, but damn, they were together since always, having each other backs. It felt wrong to have this end without closure.

Everyone seemed to be stuck on the fact it was a honorable end. Defending his country, his friends. But what is an hero that doesn't come home but a victim?

Frank didn't want a hero for a friend. He just wanted Alex back where he belonged, at home.

Next to him.

The clock hit midnight. A year, now.

He knew that soon the M would be changed for a K in the papers. But deep down, he still held onto hope. Even if hope had failed him multiple times in the past, it felt right to believe it would work just this time.

Just once.

The clock hit midnight.

Hope failed him yet again.

His bed never felt colder.

[sdwolfpup]

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll roughly to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

Tagged by @mattatouile. I sorted by longest to shortest because I thought that would be most fun, and only picked from completed fics so lets see what we've got.

Heart Full of Gasoline (Jaime/Brienne, Game of Thrones/ASOIAF) - He saluted her with his prosthetic hand and she saw his face go soft and yearning even as he turned away. She was certain it was a mirror of her own as she watched him walk onto the ferry back to King's Landing, carrying her dreams and her heart with him.

Baby I Will (Jaime/Brienne, Game of Thrones/ASOIAF) - In the reflection of the mirror behind the bar, their faces are visible over the unevenly arranged bottles. Brienne's hair is a mess, her eyes hazy with lust. Her lips are so kiss-swollen it’s obscene. Jaime is wild and unfettered behind her, already losing control with every driving movement. One hand is clenched at her shoulder, the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. She hopes it does; she wants to press her fingers to her body later and feel the memory of him.

2 Hot 2 Horny (Jaime/Brienne, Game of Thrones/ASOIAF) - “You wanted a real answer,” he said, and he hesitantly met her eyes, not sure what he'd find there. He should've known she'd simply look concerned, an empathy that made him weak, and at the same time gave him the strength to say, “That's mine, I suppose: my biggest fear is being myself.”

There Will Come A Time (Thom Rainier/female Adaar, Dragon Age: Inquisition) - “What did he say to you?” she asked him quietly. The fire popped and crackled, casting light over the dark shadows on his face. Smoke wafted past them. After a long minute, hands curled tightly around his carving, Thom said: “that I was who I knew myself to be.”

I miss it when your heart's not around (please slow down) (Warren/Murphy, Z Nation) - She needed all her focus on the talkers and the anti-talkers this week. And after that there would be some other crisis, some other special apocalypse problem that she would have to focus on next. There would be no time for the confusing turmoil Murphy's desire – or her own – caused her. No time to figure out why the emptiness inside always disappeared when she was with him.

Working 9 to 5 (for service and devotion) (Jaime/Brienne, GoT/ASOIAF) - “Let's take a look at manufacturing numbers,” Kevan says. Jaime dips his hand below the waistband of her pants and she gasps when his fingers brush the top of her underwear. “This isn't very relaxing,” she says, checking - again - that they're muted. Jaime leans into her, until his lips are brushing her cheek as he whispers, “You'll be relaxed at the end of it.”

I need your sway (Jaime/Brienne, Jaime/Brienne/Cersei, GoT) - “It's good to see you,” he said in that same gentle voice that knocked at her heart, trying to find its way in.

Go On (Jaime/Brienne, GoT/ASOIAF) - My cell: My brother has a fish question. Do you have a minute? Brienne WTF: You run into a surprising amount of fish questions. My cell: Good thing I know a fish expert now. That's what my life was missing. Jaime winced when he re-read it. Why did everything look so much more dramatic in text?

I need your heart (Cersei/Margaery Tyrell, Jaime/Brienne, GoT) - Olenna tsked. “Still such a dreamy child. You think Cersei Lannister cares about romance? That woman knows what it takes to make a life. You work hard, you marry a decent enough oaf if you can, you bring up your children to carry on the name and money, and you taste the sweet success of outliving your husband.” Olenna cackled gleefully and Margaery sighed.

To be in your arms again (Jaime/Brienne, GoT) - Jaime heard the door open and close. “What's wrong with him?” Tyrion asked. “He's a fucking coward,” Bronn said blandly. “I am not,” Jaime protested, lifting his head to glare at the other men. But he was, he knew he was. How could he face her? What would he do if he couldn't convince her not to hate him? “Oh gods I am,” he muttered, covering his face with his hand.

I have no idea who to tag here so please do this, I'm enjoying reading these.

[bullet-prooflove]

Past Mistakes Part Twelve: Fire - Mike Duarte x Reader (feat: Joe Velasco)

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond @nessamc @jayblackpanther @mysoulisasunflower @littleone65 @thesandbeneathmytoes @katluke25 @mydarkestsecretlol @evee87 @wooshwastaken @hearthockey @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @rosaliedepp @storiesofsvu @smellsliketeensspiryt @legit9thlunaticwarrior @xoxabs88xox @kiwiithecrazybird @spooky-pomegranate @chavez-ashley @telepathay @weiwei0210 @spaghettificationandpretzels @plaidbooks @irishavengersassemble

Past Mistakes Series:

Part One: Try - Mike turns back up in your life after three years apart.

Part Two: Hope (NSFW) - Mike and you get reaquainted.

Part Three: California - Mike and you discuss the past.

Part Four: Favours - Mike asks Liv for a favour.

Part Five: Choices - Mike comes face to face with someone from his past.

Part Six: Truth Hurts - Mike begs you to tell him the truth about what happened three years ago.

Part Seven: Sharing - Mike and Joe have a conversation.

Part Eight: Buried - Mike discovers that McGrath’s misdeeds go far futher than he thought.

Part Nine: Complicated - Mike discusses moving forward.

Part Ten: Feral - Mike returns to the apartment to find you’ve disappeared.

Part Eleven: Torture - You wake up to a very stark reality.

It’s over.

You should feel a sense of relief but instead you sit in the passenger of a black SUV wearing Detective Joe Velasco’s NYPD windbreaker, with a sense of dread in the pit of your stomach. On the back seat is your holdall, filled with the items you were supposed to take away with you when you left with Mike. Mike who you were supposed to be running away with, Mike who hadn’t shown his face since Murphy had rescued you from that hell house.

“He wanted to be here.” Joe says softly. “Benson and Murphy convinced him it was best to stay away. As soon as McGrath gets wind of what happened tonight, he’s going to be looking for you and we both know the first person he’s going to turn on is Duarte.”

You close your eyes, the back of your head coming to rest upon the seat as you exhale.

“He’s kept us apart for so long already.” You tell Joe. “I feel like it’s never going to end.”

“I’m sorry.” Joe says as he turns the key in the ignition. “The two of you don’t deserve this. What McGrath did to you…”

He trails off but you can hear the sincerity in his voice. His knuckles tighten as he grasps the steering wheel, his gaze on the road ahead.

“It happened to you, didn’t it?” You say quietly.

“He almost killed me.” Joe admits before continuing. “He almost killed you too. He’s dangerous when he’s not cornered, imagine what he’s like when he is.” He sighs before shaking his head. “You and Duarte are a threat, which is why we’re heading to the airport right now. The sooner we can get you out of the city, the safer you’ll be.”

It’s another decision that was made without you, the way everything in your life has been for the past three years. You feel that fire flare up inside of you, that familiar fierceness that comes with taking control of a situation. It’s something you’ve not felt for a very long time.

“I can’t do this.” You tell Joe. “I can’t just leave.”

“You understand what happens if you don’t right?” Joe asks you, his voice stern as he glances at you. “McGrath will do everything in his power to silence you.”

“I have to do this.” You tell him, that rage starting to claw it’s way through the numbness that’s been stifling you for as long as you can remember. “He fucking buried me for three years, I can’t run, not now. He’s taken so much from me already; I’m not letting him have anything else.”

There’s silence for a second as Joe processes your words.

“Fuck.” He says as he glances in the rearview mirror before pulling the car into a U-turn. “Duarte’s going to murder me.”

Love Mike Duarte? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Want more Mike? Check out his Masterlist here!

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

and for dessert?

pairing: javi x reader

cw's/tags: smut, oral sex, spanish? (i don't speak spanish), unrealistic scenarios, steve voiceover dialogue at the beginning to explain the strange plot

summary: reader is a shy hotel housekeeper of sorts (probably a CIA spy), and brings javi his room service with a special treat

a/n: 'there's a reason magical fake-ism was born in liz's mind..."

this is for @undercoverpena's birthday bash! my color for the color palette was ganache brown, and somehow, ganache is what got us here.

wc: 2k

taglist | ko-fi | masterlist

[Steve Voiceover]: And if I told you that the CIA gave us an all expenses paid vacation at a 5 star hotel with women dressed like French maids providing around the clock service, including "special favors", would you believe me? No? Good. Because that didn't happen. Even if it did, they'd be expecting something in return -- to talk about one thing or to shut up about another. Peña and I aren't liars, but if we were on trial, and the CIA had any stake, this is how they could've won us over. At least, this is Javi's version of the story. 

Sitting in a California king size bed, wearing nothing but a robe embroidered with hotel's logo, Javi sifts through his own guilt to find some self-pity that'll allow him to enjoy this period of respite amidst the general chaos that comes with his career. He and Murphy are given separate rooms -- must be a real special case, considering how much the DEA does to cut corners, thereby cutting costs, and god only knows how much this room would cost him for a week. Escobar levels of cash. 

He gets room service, fresh towels, and a cute girl who delivers them daily. When the CIA wants to influence your testimony, they've got to butter you up first. Actually, they don't. They could torture Javi, threaten his family, even disappear him. Maybe there's poison in his breakfast -- which he eats in bed while watching pay-per-view movies.

The steak you bring him for dinner is good, but the uniform you wear is great. He knows he's being sedated, and he takes it willingly. His dick takes it eagerly -- that specific part of him is the opposite of sedated. 

For the first time in his life, Javi gets tired of jerking off.

"Goddamnit. Really?"

He must be going stir-crazy, talking to his dick like that.

It'd be more convenient for him to stay naked, but he keeps his himself covered out of respect for you. He figures you probably don't get paid enough to wait on nude men, though he doubts it'd be the first time you'd walked into a hotel room to find a man in his birthday suit. Men are gross. Javi can be nasty, but he understands that timing is key. Keep it classy until she asks for it not to be.

Javi's not stupid enough to think the CIA can't hear his phone calls. He doesn't know why they even leave the phone in the room. Maybe for the typical American illusion of freedom or maybe they're just too lazy to come and unplug it.

He could call the concierge, he might even be able to call you. But for some fucking reason, he's on the phone with Steve, who's right down the hall. 

Just to fuck with him, Javi asks, "What are you wearing right now?"

"Uh, A T-shirt and boxers… why?"

"I was joking. Never had phone sex?" He figures the CIA doesn't pay whoever's listening to these calls enough, so he'll give them a little tease as a treat.

"'Course I have." Steve's not the stud that Javi is but his wife's on a different continent, so he'd believe it. "Are you trying to have phone sex with me?"

"I'm not that desperate yet."

"Haven't gone through all the porn on TV yet?"

"Not yet. Still making my way through the stepmom shit. Not really my thing."

There's a lull before Steve suggests something so out of character that Javi would think he was joking in any other circumstance.

"Is your, uh, housekeeper… nice?"

"By nice you mean hot?"

"Yeah."

"Very."

"Wonder if we have the same one."

Javi describes your appearance in detail to Steve - he'd do great as an eye witness if he only had to remember gorgeous women. Steve's description of his housekeeper is more brief but enough to confirm that they are attended to by separate women.

"Guess attractiveness is part of the qualifications," Steve remarks.

"Well, better hope you still have a job after all this 'cause you're sure not getting one here."

"Fuck off. Just 'cause you fuck around doesn't mean you're the hot one in this partnership. In case you've forgotten, I'm the one with the beautiful wife."

"Yeah, and she's way outta your league. Still don't know how you pulled her."

Steve ignores Javi's comment, and continues to brag, "plus, Little Miss Housekeeper said I'm very attractive."

"Oh yeah? How much did you pay her?"

"Nada. Did yours call you 'hermoso'? Did she offer you any extra favors?"

"Extra favors?"

Javi can hear Steve's smug grin on the other end. "She told me 'we do anything to ensure our guests have a pleasurable experience'."

"You think that's real or she was just coming onto you?"

"Dunno. You should try asking your girl- speak of the motherfuckin' devil." And Steve hangs up the phone.

In less than a minute, there's a knock on Javi's door.

"Agent Peña?" He hears your sweet voice say from outside the door, and while the fantasies fly through his head, he forgets a crucial mistake he's made which is not bothering to put on clothes after he'd taken a shower, leaving him in only in a towel when you open the door.

And he's rock-fucking-hard.

You walk in with room service. Fuck. He forgot he'd ordered dessert. Typical display, silver platter atop white tablecloth plus utensils and other expected accoutrements. You're focused on pushing the cart so at first you don't notice but when you do, you apologize profusely.

"Oh my god, Agent Peña. I am so sorry, sir." You turn away from him, fidgeting awkwardly as you stand facing the wall.

"No, it's my fault. I'm sorry. I forgot that I ordered dessert. I'll get my pants on so you don't have to see anything."

"Oh. I don't mind--I mean, that's not my concern. I just want to respect your privacy."

"My privacy? If I could walk around naked all the time I would."

"You would?" You take a glance over your shoulder and he's managed to put on his boxers, and is now reaching for a pair of jeans. "You don't mind people seeing you?"

"No," he says, stopping with one leg halfway in his pants, unsure of what you want.

"Well, you are an attractive man, so--I hope you don't mind me saying that."

"I don't. I just hope they pay you well to dish out compliments."

"The compliments are not required by my contract. I was just thinking out loud…" You trail off, shyly looking to the side.

"In that case, I hope you don't mind me saying that you're a very attractive woman."

"Thank you, sir."

God, it goes straight to his dick. There's not much he can do to hide it since he's given up on the jeans idea. (And, let's face it, those jeans leave nothing to the imagination). 

"So, I brought dessert," you transition. 

Usually, you're incredibly professional and prepared, like you've practiced every word in the mirror, but now, you look flustered. It's adorable when you struggle to find the words to describe the dessert. It's almost like you've forgotten what it is until you pull the lid off the tray to reveal it.

"Wow," he says, genuinely in awe of the decadence presented before him.

"It's a chocolate cake with chocolate ganache and strawberries on top… as you can see."

"It's probably poisoned, but I'll risk it anyway. This looks really fuckin' good."

You smile hesitantly and nod, periodically glancing towards the door like you're trying to figure out how to exit the conversation.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," you say, turning to leave the room.

But before your hand reaches the doorknob, Javi says, "Stay."

"Huh?"

"If you can -- If you want to."

"I can, yeah." You walk back towards him, slowly, stopping at the edge of the bed like you're unsure where to go from here.

"Need help getting up here?" he teases.

"No, I can do it," you say, though it does look taxing to climb up onto the tall mattress in those heels.

You sit so prim and proper like a little doll, perfectly posed, which makes Javi feel particularly ill-mannered as he's already devoured almost an entire slice of cake.

"Want some?" he asks, sucking icing off his finger just to see your reaction. And it's even more delicious than the cake itself.

"O-okay." You nod.

He grabs a bite of cake on his fork and brings it towards your mouth like you're newlyweds at your reception. You let him feed you, maintaining eye contact while eat and lick your lips clean. You're playing his game. You must be.

"So, your job here- is it mostly delivering food and towels or is there other stuff you do?"

"We do whatever the guests want… within reason."

"Give me an example."

You not-so-subtly glance at his boxer-clad cock, and then back at his face. "As long as it's legal, we can do whatever we want for the most part."

"And what do you want?"

When you look down, away from his eyes, getting all nervous again, he lifts your chin. "Dime lo que quieres," he says, much softer.

"I want you. I want to make you feel good."

You get closer to him, he thinks you're going for his lips but you're not, your hand brushes his bare stomach and slides down, but you stop at his waistband.

"May I?"

"Fuck yes."

For a shy girl, you sure know what you're doing. You get him riled up with playful licks around the tip, a flick of the tongue up the slit that makes him gasp, and you press sloppy kisses down his length, leaving lipstick marks all along his shaft.

It's not long before he feels his orgasm start to build, so he swiftly pulls you up, so that you're on your knees. You look almost dazed, especially so with your makeup all messy. He coaxes your hips up further until your core hovers over his face.

Javi has a one track mind when it comes to these kinds of things. Pussy makes him stupid. Earlier that day he fantasized about what color panties you might be wearing under your skirt. He had to force himself to look away when you bent down to grab something you'd dropped, he'd feel like a creep knowing he'd get off to a mishap like that. But he imagined you in pink, red, white, lace, satin, and everything in between.

He's surprised to find that you're not wearing any of those, you're not wearing anything at all.

He quirks an eyebrow up at you. "Brought me dessert, huh, hermosa?"

You nod. Yes, of course you did. Warm and glazed with your arousal.

"Quiero saborearte," he whispers, dragging you towards his eager mouth. 

You're perfectly pliant for him. His grip on your hips, your ass, your thighs is steady but gentle. He tries to take his time. A woman is a delicacy. He should savor you. He gets lost in the sweetness, buries his face between your thighs and allows his restrained dedication to become messy and reverent.

You call him by his first name for the first time. Javier. It's all he recognizes in your jumbled sentences.

He hums an affirmation. Mm-hmm. You're okay. Mm-hmm. I know. Mm-hmm. Please, give it to me. Let go.

Your climax hits so hard you lurch forward and grab the headboard while Javi guides you through it. With how loud you're being, he's certain Murphy will be calling him to congratulate him on his good work.

But before that, he realizes the mistake he's made -- a cardinal sin if making love is a religion (and the way Javi views it, it should be) -- he hasn't kissed you.

"Dame un beso," he says.

When you kiss him, he finds that your lips are just as sweet as the other pair between your thighs.

[url-is-under-construction]

𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝, 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝟏.𝟎𝟓 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Standard The 100 Warnings! It's a violent and heavy show and that will be represented in here x

𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: The ground was toxic. That's what they'd told you all your life. Now you find yourself falling from the sky, and learning to survive on the ground with 99 other delinquents and 1 fake guard wasn't going to be easy.

𝐀/𝐍: Thank you everyone here and on AO3 for the support in this! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and let me know if you'd like to join the little tag list I've got going <3

Also, requests for the 100 are absolutely open, it's probably my favorite thing to write for so don't be shy!

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @hftff-lol @nikki1dxx

You don't sleep much. Instead, you keep your eyes trained on one patch of steel on the wall in front of you. It's scuffed and worn, just like you.

Your tears had dried up long ago, leaving you to numbly stare with a blank expression as nothing in particular really crossed your mind. You weren't focused on Charlotte, but you also weren't focused on anything else. You were in a zombie state almost, minus the cannibalism. A part of you wishes that you had asked Bellamy to stay, so that you wouldn't have to endure your night alone, but you knew better. Every night the same two girls would disappear into his tent and reappear in the morning, significantly chirpier than anyone else in the camp, Bellamy included.

Maybe that's why you would never give your feelings for him the chance to grow and evolve. Every time something stirred inside of you or butterflies erupted in your gut you would squash it down, pushing it to the depths of your mind and hoping it would never resurface again. But last night when he shouted at you, telling you that he needed you in the camp, something inside of you broke, releasing all of your unresolved feelings like a floodgate and no amount of squashing your feelings would be able to contain it again.

And the way he looked at you when he thought he was going to lose you to Murphy; it made your head spin now thinking about it. No one had ever cared that much about you, and it frightened you. What also frightened you was how much you seemed to enjoy it, and how perfectly your head fit against his shoulder when he had walked you back to camp as you mourned.

None of that mattered though, because while you were sitting in here in the dropship trying to sort through your mess of complicated feelings, he was laying in bed with his two groupies, probably completely oblivious to the fact that he had any affect on you whatsoever.

"Hey check it out!"

Your head perks up at the sound of shouts outside, and you push yourself to your feet. Your knees wobble slightly as you walk, pushing yourself out the dropship door and down to join the crowd of teenagers gazing at the sky, pointing at a fiery ball of light that stood out against the cloak of darkness you had all grown so accustomed to.

Your eyes meet Bellamy's, and to no one's surprise he's shirtless, standing beside two half naked girls holding blankets over their bare skin in an attempt to stay warm.

You tear your gaze away. It didn't matter. You were strong, and you'd be able to get rid of your feelings once and for all before they developed too much further; you knew would.

A parachute launches from the pod that comes barreling down to Earth and you feel yourself smile a little as someone speaks.

"They're coming to help us!"

"Please tell me they brought down some shampoo." One of the girls beside Bellamy says, and you nearly laugh at it. Messy hair was the least of your problems right now, although it was certainly on your list.

You watch as Bellamy swallows nervously, and you furrow your brows as you can almost see the cogs in his head turning. You knew him too well by now, definitely well enough to tell when he was up to something, usually that he shouldn't be up to.

He turns to one of the boys beside him, whispering something to him and the two of them walk off towards a tent as everyone else stands outside, wondering what's going to come next.

You follow them, weaving through the kids and ducking under the canvas of the tent, surprising both of them as you appear almost out of nowhere.

"What're you doing here?" Bellamy asks softly. "You should be sleeping."

You shake your head. "I haven't slept at all. I can help."

He looks like he wants to protest but the kid beside him speaks up.

"We need all the people we can get."

"Thank you." You say, gesturing to him with a nod.

"Fine." Bellamy says begrudgingly, turning back to him.

"Right. So if it cleared the ridge, it's probably near the lake."

Octavia pops her head under the tent, joining the three of you. She looks antsy and almost excited as she greets you with a sympathetic smile before she turns back to her brother.

"We should get moving. Everyone's ready."

Bellamy shakes his head, his arms crossed firmly against his chest. "No one's going anywhere. Not while it's dark, it isn't safe. We'll head out at first light, pass the word."

The kid nods, leaving the tent to tell everyone and Bellamy tries to follow but Octavia steps in front of him.

"Everyone for a hundred miles saw this thing come down What if the grounders get to it first?"

"Bell she's right." You say, and his eyes whip to yours. "We should go now."

"No." He shakes his head. "I said we wait until sunrise."

He pushes past her, leaving the tent without another word to both of you as you exchange a look.

"He's up to something." You say quietly, more to yourself than her but she nods along with you.

"Obviously." She says. "You should follow him. Knowing his track record it's probably gonna be pretty stupid."

~

You make sure to keep your distance as you move silently and skillfully through the woods, trailing not far behind Bellamy. It wasn't hard to track him down; you left immediately after Octavia suggested it and Finn had been showing you a thing or two about tracking as well.

The darkness had disappeared long ago, and the sun was well into the sky in the early morning.

You follow Bellamy as he stops in a small clearing, the smoking wreckage of a pod sent from the Ark in front of you.

"Bellamy!" You call out before he can reach it, and his head whirls around to face you. You clearly took him by surprise. His eyes are wide when they meet yours and his mouth is slightly agape, like a child who'd just been caught sneaking into a cookie jar.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He hisses at you, walking forward and surprising you by shoving you backwards. It takes you off guard and you nearly stumble on the rocks but you catch yourself. "Go back to camp Y/n."

It was strange actually hearing him call you by your name, by now you were so used to Lucky that you weren't even questioning it anymore.

"No way." You scoff, shaking your head. "You're after the radio, aren't you?"

There's an indistinguishable emotion on his face for a few moments before he answers you, his voice low and threatening. It scares you, reminding you of Murphy's threats not even twelve hours ago. "How do you know about the radio?"

"It's obvious." You say, slowly taking a step to the side, circling around him until you've placed yourself between him and the pod. "All you've tried to do since we landed is make the Ark think we're dead, and now there's a radio, the one thing that will indisputably tell them we're alive."

"Get out of here Y/n." He says.

"You're gonna destroy it." You ignore his warning. "You're gonna destroy it and we're all going to die down here, alone."

"You don't know what you're talking about." He shakes his head, and you can see his jaw clench in anger.

"Yeah, I think I do."

"Then you know that nothing is stopping me from getting that radio, not you, not Clarke, not anyone." He says, promising almost, with a look of fierce determination in his usually warm eyes. It scares you.

"I can't let you get that radio." You pull a knife from your pocket, pointing it at him.

He looks from the blade, to you and then back to the blade. "You aren't going to stab me Lucky."

"Don't underestimate me Blake."

He scoffs, holding his hands up in surrender, but you knew he wouldn't make it that easy.

You don't take your eyes off of him as you step back towards to pod, not stopping until your back hits the hot metal of the door. For every step you took, Bellamy had taken one too and you debate in your mind how to go about getting the radio without him pulling something on you.

Reluctantly, you turn your back to him, swinging open the door of the pod and before you can lean it to pull the radio out you're yanked backwards by strong arms, lifting you off the ground and placing you down away from the pod as you yell out in protest, blindly swinging your fist. You have no time to think as Bellamy tries to wrestle the knife from your hands, turning your arm at an unbearable angle that makes you yelp and release your death grip on it.

He storms away from you, towards the pod and despite the dull ache in your shoulder you drive yourself forward. You aren't sure if your plan was to tackle him or pull him back and try to be loud enough to wake the girl inside, but either way there's no time for you to execute it as Bellamy swings around, anticipating your attack. The hand that gripped your knife flew out, taking you by surprise and there's no time for you to move away as it slashes your shoulder deeply, causing you to cry out in pain.

You glance down to check your wound but before you can his hands land on your shoulders and roughly push you to the ground. You land on your side against the rocks and twigs on the ground, your shoulder painfully coming into contact with the hard and jagged surfaces.

You aren't sure if Bellamy was aware if he'd cut you or not, but either way you were going to kill him when you got your hands on him.

The pain is blinding, aching deep in your bicep and you can't bring yourself to get up and stop him as you hear him reach into the pod and yank out the radio. His footsteps disappear into the woods as you tightly shut your eyes.

You don't know how long you lay on the ground in the fetal position for, but you jump, startled when Clarke shakes your shoulder gently, concern written all over her face as she stares down at you, and the bloodied ground beneath you.

"Y/n?" She asks, instantly helping you sit up as you nurse your arm. "What happened?"

"Bellamy." You whisper.

She reaches out to look at your arm, and you can tell by the way that her face falls it can't be good.

"This is deep, really deep." She says. "You could have lost a lot of blood by now, and it's probably infected from the ground."

"Way to be optimistic." You joke but she doesn't return your energy.

"We need to get you back to camp."

You shake your head. "There's a girl in the pod."

Her eyes widen as she turns to it, pulling open the door and sure enough a girl no older than the two of you sits inside, blood dripping from a wound on her forehead.

Clarke helps her out, and you watch with a smile on your face as she spins around in the rain, amazed by it.

"Raven!" A voice calls out and you turn to see Finn running towards the three of you.

"Finn!" She cries happily, running to him and pulling him into a tight hug.

The two of them embrace and kiss passionately, not caring about her open head wound or the audience they had. You watch Clarke's face fall, and your heart breaks for her.

Welcome to the club, you thought to yourself. After all, you'd been watching Bellamy indulge in other girls night after night after night, and you got bonus points too since he'd just seriously cut your shoulder.

"How did you get here?" Finn asks, amazed.

"You know that big scrap hold? The one on K deck?"

Finn looks at the pod then back at her. "You built that from scrap?"

"I kind of rebuilt it." She says, dipping her head bashfully. "It just needed a couple parts and some love."

"You're insane." Finn jokes.

"I'd do more for you and worse. Just like you would for me."

Suddenly she sways in his arms and he quickly helps her to the ground, sitting her down beside you and wrapping his jacket around her.

Clarke comes over, offering her something to put pressure on her wound with. Finn introduces Clarke to Raven, and something flashes in her eyes as she stands up urgently.

"Clarke?" She asks. "This is all because of your mom."

"My mom?"

Raven nods. "This was all her plan. We were trying to come down here together. If we waited- Oh my god. We couldn't wait because the council is voting whether or not to kill three hundred people to save air."

"When?" Clarke asks sternly.

"Today. We have to tell them you're alive!" She rushes to grab her radio but you stop her.

"There's no use." You say, dejectedly. "Someone got here before Clarke did."

Raven's brows furrowed. "What about you?"

"Why do you think I'm bleeding?" You ask, and it's only then that she notices the angry wound in your shoulder, her face wrinkling up at it.

"Shit." She hisses.

"Yeah." You say. "We have to find him."

You lousily tear off a piece of fabric from your shirt and tie it around your arm to stop the bleeding before the four of you make your way back into the woods to find Bellamy.

It isn't long before you all catch up to him, Clarke making the first move as she ran ahead, calling out to him.

"Hey!" She puts her hand on his shoulder, pulling him backwards. "Where is it?"

"Hey princess." Bellamy smirks casually as he comes to a stop beside her. "You taking a walk in the woods?"

"They're getting ready to kill three hundred people up there! To save oxygen!" Clarke yells at him and you can see his face visibly fall. "And I guarantee you it won't be council members, it'll be working people. Your people!"

You, Finn and Raven all catch up to the two of them, Finn rushing forward to shove Bellamy backwards. "Bellamy! Where's the radio?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Bellamy says back to him, shoving him back with twice the force.

His eyes land on you, and then on the blood soaked rag around your shoulder and his face falls, the fight and anger that was previously there draining completely as he tries to approach you.

Finn sticks a hand in front of him to stop him, and you tear your eyes away from his as Raven speaks up.

"Bellamy Blake?" She asks. "They're looking for you everywhere."

"Shut up." Bellamy threatens her, the regret and concern that had been in his eyes when he'd glanced at you dissipating.

"Why're they looking for him?" You ask, intrigued.

"He shot Chancellor Jaha." Raven answers you, and suddenly it all makes sense.

"That's why you took the wristbands." You whisper, thinking back to that whole campaign. Yours had ended up coming off when Monty had accidentally fried the entire network. "That's why you need them to think we're all dead."

"All that 'whatever the hell he want'? You just care about saving your own skin." Finn says, disgusted.

Bellamy's eyes briefly flash to yours before he turns around wordlessly and tries to walk away. He doesn't get far before Raven follows and steps in front of him.

"Hey Shooter! Where's my radio?"

"Get out of my way." He grunts.

"Where is it?"

"I should've killed you when I had the chance." He says to her lowly.

"Really?" She asks. "Well I'm right here."

Bellamy grabs a hold of her, spinning her violently and slamming her against a tree as she pulls a knife from her pocket and holds it in front of her.

"Where's my radio?"

He doesn't answer, releasing her.

"Jaha deserved to die, you all know that."

"Yeah he's not my favourite person either." Raven says. "But he isn't dead."

Bellamy's face shifts. "What?"

"You're a lousy shot."

"Bellamy." You say, walking towards him despite Finn trying to hold you back. You couldn't blame him given the gaping hole in your arm, inflicted by Bellamy. "Don't you see what this means? You're not a murderer."

His brown eyes gaze down into yours as you continue.

"You always did what you had to, to protect your sister. That's who you are, and you can do it again by saving those three hundred people up there."

He diverts his gaze to the ground, and you can see shame in his eyes as they flicker to your shoulder.

"Where's the radio?" You beg, reaching out to grab his shoulders, the same way he had when he was trying to stop you from handing yourself over to Murphy. His eyes move back up to yours as he swallows. "It's too late."

~

About twenty kids wade through the water in front of you, searching for the missing radio as you sit on a rock, your feet barely submerged as Clarke decides to use the water from the stream to start cleaning your shoulder.

She unwraps the makeshift bandage, rinsing the crimson blood out of it. It stains the water red and your eyes are glued to it as it washes downstream.

She pulls a clean rag from her pack and before she can submerge it a voice comes from behind you.

"Let me." You turn around to see Bellamy standing there and Clarke smiles tightly, handing him the rag.

"Clean it well, then find me for something to bandage it with."

He nods, not tearing his gaze from yours as Clarke runs off to join the search and he takes her previous position, crouched in front of you attentively. The water completely soaks through his pants but he doesn't care, you had his undivided attention.

Neither of you speak as he starts to gently wipe away the dried blood that had dripped down your arm, saving the most sensitive and painful part for last your were guessing.

His hands are warm and loving almost as one cradles your forearm while the other delicately washes away the dirt and blood, being extra careful as to not apply to much pressure. He keeps his head turned down, shamefully avoiding your eyes and the pain that contorts in your face as he slowly cleans higher and higher. You watch his hands move gently, and the way that his face looks completely and utterly broken as he looks at the full reality of your gash, the one that he had given you.

"I'm so sorry." He whispers, and you might've heard his voice break.

His choked out apology takes you aback and you hesitate for a moment, wondering what to say.

He had hurt you, undeniably. You weren't going to forgive and forget this easily, if ever, but your heart was completely and utterly breaking as he screwed his eyes shut tightly and rested his forehead against your shoulder, careful to avoid your wound.

"So, so, sorry." You can feel his breath against your bare skin as he speaks quietly and regretfully, and before you can even think about it you were reaching your good hand up to come to rest in his black curls, holding him close as he breathed in deeply. "I didn't mean to cut you."

"I know." You say gently, sighing as you slowly run your hand back and forth through his hair. He makes no protest to your movement, and if anything you feel his tension fade.

"I didn't even realize I had until I saw you in the woods with Finn and Clarke." His voice is so delicate as he speaks and it makes your stomach go crazy, in a good way or a bad way you couldn't tell.

"Bell, I know." You reassure.

You look down at your shoulder, noticing that he'd cleaned most of the dirt and blood from your gash.

"You should find Clarke and get some clean bandages."

He nods against you but makes no move to actually get up and do it.

"C'mon Bell, before I bleed out all over you." You say it jokingly and he cracks a small smile at it before he stands up, telling you he'd be back soon before he heads off in Clarke's direction.

He reappears not long after with surprisingly clean looking makeshift bandages, and he gets to work quickly, securing them in place tightly.

"All done." He says, standing up and offering you a hand. You take it and he pulls you up from the rock carefully, like you were a porcelain doll he was afraid of breaking.

Just as you find yourself standing on your two feet again you hear a shout from the other side of the body of water.

"I found it!"

Raven rushes to take it from him as Clarke joins her, looking down at the drowned piece of technology Raven was inspecting in her hands.

"Can you fix it?"

"Maybe." She mutters. "It'll take half a to dry the components alone though."

"I told you it was too late." Bellamy says as the two of you approach.

Clarke's eyes flicker to his dangerously and you sense what's coming before she even opens her mouth. "Do you have any idea what this means! Do you even care!"

"You asked me to help, I helped."

"Yeah, after you trashed it and sliced Y/n open." Finn comments.

"That was an accident." Bellamy says, growling almost and it surprises you.

"You still did it." Finn scoffs at him. "You've done nothing but cause trouble for her down here."

"Stop Finn." You say, trying to cut in but you're ignored by him.

"All I'm saying is that maybe for once Bellamy, you need to think about how what you do is going to hurt everyone around you. Especially the three hundred people who are about to be floated because you destroyed the one thing we could use to talk to the Ark."

Bellamy doesn't respond, keeping his jaw clenched tightly.

"Hang on." Raven says, a realization dawning on her. "We don't need to talk to the Ark, we just need them to know we're down here."

"How do we do that?" You ask, tilting your head as she shoots you a promising grin.

~

The rockets fuel flares make for an impressive light show as everyone stands outside in camp, heads tilted to the sky with mouths slightly agape in awe and excitement. You can feel nerves radiating off of everybody as you all wait in anticipation, hoping, begging some superior power that the Ark would be able to see them, and know you were all alive.

Bellamy stands beside you, next to your injured shoulder and you know that despite his dismissive attitude he was hoping more than anyone down here that those people would be saved.

"You think they can see it from up there?" He asks you, turning his head down to face you.

"I don't know. I hope so." You sigh. "Think we can make a wish on this kind of shooting star?"

He gives you a blank look, one that makes you smile and nudge him with your elbow. "You can't be that dim Blake."

He lets out a small huff, a smile creeping on his lips. "I wouldn't even know what to wish for. What about you?"

"Maybe a shower." You joke, and he rolls his eyes at you.

"That's a good wish."

"C'mon, you have to have one." You say, looking up at him. "Something you want right now more than anything else."

His eyes burn into yours with an unidentifiable emotion in them, one that caused butterflies to erupt your stomach but you keep your expression level. Finally, after a moment of thinking he answers you.

"Forgiveness."

Well this actually killed me. Also to anyone who's put in a request with the big guy (aka me, a small girl) I've read through them all, and I will write them all, just very slowly :)

This series is kind of the priority right now and any requests for the 100 will probably be completed before any of my others, which I do apologize for.

Anyways let me know if you wanna be thrown onto my taglist, and feel free to request anything at all <3

[queenshelby]

The Law Student (Part 15)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Angst

Words: 616

Notes: In this fic, Cillian is about 20 and the Reader is about 30. It plays in early 1996

‘May I talk to you in private?’ you asked Siobhan while looking around the room and, since she didn’t suspect anything, she nodded and agreed while everyone else left the room.

‘Are you sure you want to make this complaint?’ you asked when the others had disappeared and you were finally alone with her.

‘Why wouldn’t I?’ she asked.

‘Is it the truth? Because, if it isn’t you will destroy Cillian’s life for no reason at all and, if it is found out that you are lying, then yours will be destroyed as well. Job opportunities will vanish and you might not even pass the character test during the assessment for accreditation as a lawyer if this is what you want to become’ you reminded her and you immediately saw the look on her face changing.

‘It is the truth’ she barely managed to say and you bit your tongue.

‘Is it? Because I don’t think it is. I have been tutoring Cillian as you know and we had a tutoring session that day. It went for over two hours because he had cancelled his last session and we had lots to catch up on’ you said, lying to her. You had a session of a different kind with Cillian but that clearly was none of her business.

‘The session was late in the afternoon. I keep a diary of them all. You weren’t with him then so your story doesn’t add up’ you pointed out to her and when she broke out in tears you pushed a box of tissues across the table before getting her a glass of water.

You got yourself a glass of water as well and then asked her what was really happening and why she was doing this.

‘I tried to get back with him but he told me that he is in love with another woman’ she cried and you couldn’t help but sigh. You knew who the other woman was. It was you but, of course, you couldn’t admit this to your student Siobhan.

‘So, you threatened him to get him back?’ you asked a little surprised and Siobhan went silent.

‘Listen, I won’t tell the student coordinator or faculty about this. Whatever you tell me will stay between us. Just let me help you, okay?’ you said, feeling genuinely sorry for her.

Clearly, she was young and confused and struggling with Cillian pushing her away.

You knew that you were on thin eyes when you were talking with her about Cillian but you also needed to do your duty as a lecturer and support person for your students.

‘I did threaten him to say these things if he doesn’t give me another chance. I am in love with him, it’s just fucking difficult, you know?’ Siobhan blurted out like a naïve school girl and you couldn’t quite comprehend as to why she went to such extremes.

‘This is very bad Siobhan. I know it is hard to break up with someone you like but you need to let him move on’ you pointed out and she nodded while continuing to cry.

‘It’s not that simple. You don’t understand…’ she then said, playing with the neckless she was wearing which was a catholic symbol of some sort.

‘My parents are going to lose their shit. They will probably kick me out of the house’ she then said.

‘Why would they do that?’ you wondered.

‘Because I am pregnant’ she cried and your chin dropped immediately.

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[writtenmemxries]

“If I could read your mind, love, what a tale your thoughts could tell.”

I was inspired by this post by @gum-believable to write this fic. I tagged all the people that asked to be tagged under that post, I hope you don’t mind and I hope you like this! :)

[1.9k words]

Sam had learned early on that many hunts rarely go as one would hope, unfortunately. He used to wait anxiously for his father and brother to come home, sitting on an uncomfortable bed in a random motel, nearly thirty years before, scared that things could go bad.

As time went by, he understood firsthand that not everything always goes as planned. Murphy’s law teaches us that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Even on a trivial hunt like that.

A case to solve, a witch to stop before it was too late, people to save. Nothing they hadn’t faced before, nothing they weren’t able to overcome with their skills and experience. It was such a mundane hunt that even a pair of young hunters like Claire and Kaia could have handled it well, or so Sam and Dean believed.

Alas, hunting is unpredictable. Who would have thought that the witch had a twin sister? Who would have imagined that the aforementioned sister was so poorly endowed with magical powers that the spell cast against Dean would have side effects even after her death?

Still, that was exactly what happened.

When a purple cloud enveloped Dean’s head, dulling his senses and making him lose his balance, Sam shot the young woman in the head and she fell to the ground with a thud.

Dean, still a bit pale, got up trembling. Despite everything, he seemed to be fine. No trace of purple smoke, no strange dust, no visible wounds. They were both fine.

Sam let out a relieved sigh. That was a close one, he thought.

“Amen to that, little brother,” Dean said with a smirk.

Sam looked at him confused. “I didn’t say anything.”

Dean frowned. “What do you mean, you just talked!”

“Dean, I didn’t speak.”

Dean thought about it for a moment, then shrugged carelessly. “I must have imagined it. I still feel a little dizzy from the spell.”

Sam nodded. “Can you drive?”

“Of course I can, who do you think I am? You won't put your filthy hands on Baby,” Dean exclaimed offended, and quickly went down the stairs of the apartment.

Sam looked around cautiously one last time before following his brother to the car.

As they traveled through the city towards the highway, Sam stared out of the window thoughtfully, while Dean cheerfully drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

That Starbucks is new, Sam thought casually, noticing a new sign of the popular coffee shop.

“Wow Samantha, you know these towns really well, don’t you?" Dean commented wryly.

Sam turned to him frowning. “What?”

“I said you know-”

“I heard what you said,” Sam interrupted him. “But why did you say that?”

Dean gave him a confused look before focusing back on the road. “Uh, no offense Sam, but honestly, who cares about Starbucks.”

Sam was starting to fret. “How do you know I was thinking about Starbucks?”

“You okay Sam?” Dean asked concerned. “Did those sons of bitches do anything to you?”

“I didn't say anything, Dean,” Sam said for the second time that day. “I just thought about it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn't speak. And I didn't do it before, either! I didn't say anything about Starbucks, Dean. Not out loud at least.”

“So what, I can read minds now?”

Sam sighed. “I don't know, maybe.”

Dean smiled in amusement. “Awesome.”

“Dean, there must be something else. Something bad. It must be that spell's fault. I'm gonna call Cas.”

But Dean had stopped listening to him. He was smiling to himself, proud of his new supernatural power. After all, how dangerous could it be?

When they got to the bunker, Castiel was already there. Sam hadn't explained anything to him on the phone, except that Dean had been hit by an unknown spell and they needed the angel's help.

As soon as they entered the room, Castiel ran to meet them, worried.

“Sam, Dean. What happened?”

“Dean thinks he has superpowers,” Sam said without many pleasantries, as Dean greeted Castiel with a pat on the shoulder.

“I told you Sam, I'm like Professor X,” Dean said with a grin.

Castiel sighed, rolling his eyes.

Why did I have to fall in love with this idiot?

Dean nearly tripped over his own feet. Castiel grabbed his arm, steadying him, but Dean immediately drew back, as if his touch had burned him.

“What?!” he nearly shouted, looking at him with wide eyes.

Castiel looked at him confused and preoccupied. “Dean, I didn't say anything,” he said calmly, as if he were explaining a complex concept to a child.

“Cas, the thing is-” Sam tried to explain, but Dean shut him up.

“It's- it's not important. Do you know what matters now? Dinner. I still have to cook, so, Cas, you're coming with me to the kitchen,” he said quickly. His ears were burning and he knew he was blushing.

“Dean-”

“No tofu-eating man allowed in my kitchen, capiche?” he interrupted his brother again, pointing his finger at him.

Then, without saying anything else, he grabbed Castiel by the wrist and they disappeared together down the corridor, leaving Sam astonished in front of the bunker entrance.

In the kitchen, Dean let go of Castiel's wrist, clearing his throat embarrassed. Castiel continued to look at him curiously.

I miss the feeling of his fingers on my skin. I love it when he touches me like that.

Dean choked on his saliva and started coughing under Castiel's concerned gaze.

“Dean, what happened, do I have to heal you?” he asked apprehensive.

Dean shook his head no, catching his breath. “No man, I'm fine. It's just... dinner, alright? We have to hurry up,” he said hastily, turning his back to the angel to avoid him noticing his obvious blush.

“Dean, Sam said a witch cast a spell on you...”

“Sam hit his head and has no idea what he's saying,” Dean lied.

Castiel frowned. “Is he okay? Maybe I should check if he needs my assistance,” he said, already heading down the hall.

“Cas, no!” Dean exclaimed.

Castiel winced, looking at him in shock.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek. “He's fine, I've already checked on him. He just needs to rest,” he said looking around, unable to fix his gaze on Castiel. “For now, I need you to stay here with me, okay?” he continued, grabbing a pan to cook some burgers.

Castiel tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes in confusion. “Why?”

“Because-” Dean sighed, “I want you here.”

Castiel's gaze softened.

I love being with you Dean. Spending time with you. Talking to you, or even being silent. I always want to be around you.

Dean felt himself blush again. “Good,” he murmured.

Castiel sat down at the table, knowing he couldn't be of much help, and he simply watched Dean cook. There was silence between them, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The only sounds were those that Dean made moving around the kitchen, slicing tomatoes, washing salad, preparing dinner.

How can I be so lucky?

Dean turned to Castiel, winking in his direction.

You're amazing. And it's incredible that I get to sit here, with you, watching you. Admiring you as one would admire a work of art or a natural phenomenon. Seeing you here, in such a normal and domestic environment, fills my heart with joy. I want to see you like this forever.

“So, Cas,” Dean said perhaps a little too loud, trying to distract himself from those words that were ringing in his head, hitting him right in the chest, unleashing lightning and storms inside his brain. “What's on your mind?”

Castiel eyed him enigmatically. “It's nice to see you cooking happily,” he said simply, looking around the kitchen.

“Uh, yeah, that's good, I guess,” Dean replied, scratching his head in embarrassment.

“What are you thinking about, instead, Dean?”

Dean looked into his eyes, which stared back at him with an expression so fond that he felt his heart ache.

I love you, he thought, and for the first time it didn't scare him. He didn't feel horrified, he hadn't been ashamed of his feelings for a long time. But he wasn't afraid either, not anymore.

I love you, he thought again. Cas, I love you. Cas cas cas cas-

“Dean.”

Castiel's cheeks were tinged with red, his lips were slightly parted, his pupils dilated. Dean's first thought was that he wanted to see him like that every day.

“Dean, why are you praying to me?” Castiel asked in a whisper.

“I'm not,” Dean said quietly, dumbfounded, letting his eyes wander over Castiel's features, his flustered face.

“Yes, you- you have-”

“I love you,” he blurted out.

Castiel closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

Dean clung to the kitchen counter, already regretting having said it out loud. What if he wasn't actually hearing Cas' thoughts? What if he was just hallucinating?

“Say something Cas.”

Castiel shook his head slowly.

I don't deserve your love. You deserve better. You deserve someone who can give you a family, someone who can get old with you, someone who has never betrayed or hurt you, I don't-

“Cas. I- I can hear your thoughts. The witch's spell, I think... I don't even know man, I don't know what happened, but I can hear what you think as if you were talking,” Dean whispered guiltily.

Castiel jerked his head up. His eyes were full of tears.

“Dean, why haven't you told me-”

“I didn't want to. I'm sorry, okay, but you were saying all those nice things about me, things I don't deserve, and I didn't expect it. I just wanted... I don't know, man," Dean sighed, running a hand over his face. “But I love you,” he continued, moving closer to Castiel. “You’re family, Cas. You, Sam, Jack... I want to grow old with you, until I die of liver cirrhosis or some other bullshit. I don't want anyone else. It's you, Cas. You're the one for me.”

He had crouched down in front of Castiel, who was still sitting at the table. Tears ran down the angel's cheeks, which Dean promptly collected with his thumbs, gently caressing his face. Castiel huffed out a laugh, clinging to Dean's arms, clutching the fabric of his shirt.

He stood up, Dean right after him. And in an instant, their lips met and started moving together, in tune, as their hands explored the other's neck, jaw, hair, eagerly and sweetly at the same time.

They parted, out of breath, and Castiel rested his forehead against Dean's, losing himself in his green eyes.

“Should we thank her?” he asked with a smile, breathing in Dean’s scent.

“Who?” Dean said, stroking his hair absentmindedly.

“The witch.”

“Oh,” Dean chuckled. “Sam killed her.”

“Of course he did,” Castiel laughed.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, and pulled him close to kiss him again.

Castiel smiled against his lips, and in that moment Dean was certain. He wanted this with him more than anything.

Smiling back, he wished Castiel would never stop grinning like that.

And if Castiel thought the same, Dean was too engrossed in the kiss to hear it.

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[lightns881]

DTeam Tumblr Demographics Survey Results (Part 1):

The Gifted Child Syndrome is Real with this One...

*Rubs hands together in preparation for some juicy data and in-depth analysis of the typical member of the DTeam Tumblr community*

Ooooooooh boy! Here we go!

I want to start of by thanking you guys for over 400 responses to the demographics survey! Y’all have no idea how much I appreciate it! We have so much to cover, so I’m going to divide up different sections of the survey into several posts to make it more digestable and do justice to each topic explored in the form! We’re going to start of with, you guessed it, personality types!

Strap yourself in because we’re about to thoroughly dissect your sub-conscious innerworkings and find out how the typical DTeam Tumblr Fan thinks! (And judging by the majority personality types, you guys will probably enjoy it)

The Delicious Data

From the 449 responses we received, this is a pie chart displaying the personality types of all respondents.

Image Description: INFP (40.5%), INTP (15.1%), INFJ (8.9%), INTJ (8.9%), ISFP (6.9%), ENFP (4.2%), ISTP (4.0%), ENTP (3.8%), ESFP (1.6%), ISFJ (1.6%), ENTJ (1.3%), ENFJ (1.3%), ISTJ (1.1%), ESTP (0.4%), ESFJ (0.2%), ESTJ (0%)

In comparison, this is a pie chart displaying the personality type percentages of the population as a whole according to the MBTI website.

Image Description: ISTP (14%), ESFJ (12%), ISTJ (12%), ISFP (9%), ESTJ (9%), ESFP (8%) ENFP (8%), ISTP (5%), INFP (4%), ESTP (4%), INTP (3%), ENTP (3%), ENFJ (2%), INTJ (2%), ENTJ (2%), INFJ (1%)

I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sensing a tiny difference here... Oh, right!

INxx’s on the Loose!

It’s funny. When I first found one of the 18+ DTeam fan servers through Tumblr, I asked everyone what their personality type was. I was pleasantly surprised when a lot of them told me they were INFPs like me!

It actually reminded me of MatPat’s (Game Theory) survey for one of his Life Is Strange theories that found the majority personality there was also INFP...

Funny enough, can you guess what the second leading personality on that survey was? The third? The fourth?

You probably guessed it right. MatPat found that out of the fans who responded, the leading majority was INFP while INTPs came in second, INFJs came in third, and INTJs came in fourth. The exact order for the personality types in DTeam Tumblr.

But why is it that some of the rarer personalities of the world are dominating DTeam Tumblr or Game Theory’s fanbase? What is it about these communities that attract the rare introverted Intuitive Perceivers (INxP) and Intuitive Judgers (INxJ) of the world like magnets?

The Gifted Kid Syndrome

To answer this question, first we have to examine our leading personalities. As we can see from the data, INFPs and INTPs make up 55.6% and INFJs and INTJs make up 17.8% of the total respondents. That’s nearly 3/4′s of the DTeam Tumblr population made up of INxx types!

Now, here’s me calling y’all out.

A lot of you probably relate to the quiet kid sitting at the back of the classroom who’s put into some type of TAG, gifted program, or some authority figure has probably called you smart and/or “gifted” at some point in your life. Academics probably came easy to you at one point, maybe they still do.

You’ve probably felt your chest swell up at the shower of compliments about your intelligence and at another... you’ve probably felt like people put you in a pedestal and overrate you so you’re stuck with this inherent fear of failure, and it causes you to completely shut down when the things that came easy to you at one point no longer do so. 

It’s gifted kid syndrome hitting you like a brick to the face. And if it hasn’t yet, oh you’re in for a surprise, honey.

And I’m sure many of you have come across funny, relatable posts like this:

And you want to know why most of you relate?

Image Description: INTP, INTJ, INFP, anf INFJ’s rate the highest in a giftedness per MBTI Type chart

No. You’re not hallucinating. It’s not even a joke at this point. It feels true because it probably is true.

(Granted, the study that captured similar results to this graph is long lost to the internet, but the best source I found with it was a reddit post I will be citing in the reblog.)

Now, my next point is where we find a split.

INFPs and INTPs and their Need to Question Everything (even if it’s about one sentence [insert creator here] said that one time during a 4-hour long stream)

The strongest connection I found between the two leading personalities of DTeam Tumblr is they share Extraverted Intuiting (Ne) as their auxiliary cognitive function.

I’ll use a quote that explains Ne better than I could ever explain it in my own words:

“Extraverted intuition or Ne is very much focused on patterns and making connections from information they gather... Ne dominant users enjoy being able to explore things in a much more open manner, not wanting to feel closed off to the possibilities around them... They are also highly imaginative people, who enjoy being able to come up with unique hobbies and experiences... They are not afraid of imagining things which seem almost impossible to others... [For INFPs,] Ne is what creates this detailed and incredible thoughts process which keeps them busy for long periods of time.”

And another:

“Auxiliary Ne manifests in people constantly questioning the world around them, but unlike ENxPs, they can be more pick and choose about this. But generally, they don’t take people, things and events at face value.“

Now, think about the community you’re in right now. Think about the post you’re reading at the moment.

DTeam Tumblr is full of over-analysis posts, whether about Dream and George’s secret love for each other or about the inherent problems with Dream’s shipbait and gay jokes or theories about what’s going to happen next in the dream SMP lore and the dramatic betrayals and creator’s descend into madness and more theories about sexuality and charts depicting creator’s personalities and what they’d be likely to do in different scenarios and... ooof, I’m out of breath here. You get my point.

DTeam Tumblr is literally a group of ex-gifted or gifted introverted people who love to read or write analysis, theory, and discussion posts about sweaty Minecraft Youtubers because they’re probably too overwhelmed by real life and find joy in obsessing over “dumb” things.

That’s it. That’s literally the post. I might as well end there.

But I won’t. 

Because obsessions is exactly what I want to focus on next.

The Inherent Nature of the INFP and their “Micro-Obsessions”

This is me having a one-to-one conversation with all my INFPs reading this.

Do you sometimes just set your mind on a goal--like, let’s say, writing a book--and you spend so much time obsessing over it to the point where you burn out and suddenly it never sees the light of day because you move onto your next goal or obsession because now you’re getting ready to launch your freelance website so you can start a business on [insert new hobby here]?

Or do you just suddenly find a fandom or a show or a channel you really enjoy and you spend the next few months doing nothing but engaging with it and reading fanfiction and drawing fan art or making dumb analysis posts on your main Tumblr account where suddenly you get an influx of followers from that community and now people are expecting you to just post about MCYT!?

Oh, sorry, I got a little carried away at the end there...

Anyhow, my point is, do you ever develop an obsession over something all the sudden only for it to just disappear when you find something new or just fall into the deep crevices of your mind only for it to maybe reemerge a few years later after you get a deep sense of nostalgia remembering it?

I call them micro-obsessions. And I recently found out, I’m not the only one who does this!

Here’s another quote for you: 

“According to Carl Jung’s theory of cognitive functions, when an INFP makes a decision, Ne comes in second to another process known as Introverted Feeling (Fi). Fi does not use logic to make a decision. It uses how we feel about the decision according to our values. In other words, it asks, “Which choice feels right for me?”

Ne, on the other hand, craves new ideas and experiences to explore, which causes INFPs to always be on the lookout for something novel.

Unfortunately, INFPs can get stuck in a loop, going back and forth between their Ne and Fi. They search to understand their values by constantly trying new things. They ask themselves, “Does this feel right?” then throw it over their shoulder as they move on to something else.”

So, you’re probably asking right about now, Light, how the heck does any of this have anything to do with the Dream Team and MCYT!?

Well, my friend, it has EVERYTHING to do with the Dream Team and MCYT and DTeam Tumblr as a whole.

Because INxx’s are predisposed to end up in places like this--fandoms on Tumblr, channels that speculate whether Mario is evil, watching dramatic Minecraft smp wars and elections as opposed to looking at the news that depicts Murphy’s Law as 2020′s new favorite epigram. 

The introvert in them causes them to prefer socializing in small communities online where they’re not forced to engage in conversations if they don’t want to or put into uncomfortable situations where they have to talk to that one friend of their friend who wants to make meaningless small chat.

Their Intuition causes them to wonder into places like Tumblr where they can engage in deep discussions about their newest obsessions, and they won’t be judged for writing a 500+ word post about why Dream’s shipbait tactics are a genius algorithm strat or simping over sweaty Minecraft boys.

DTeam Tumblr is a safe haven for INFPs and INTPs who might be placed in the “other” category or marked as weird for being interested in “childish” entertainment or being different from the general population overall, whether that’d be sexuality, point of view, age, gender, etc. A place where you can fully be yourself and not have to worry about disappointing people.

INFPs are predisposed for drowning themselves in their micro-obsessions to avoid all of the madness in the world--even if that means giggling like a little girl while reading memes about your favorite Minecraft YouTube creators.

That is a deep-dive into the mind of a typical DTeam Tumblr user. What do you think? Is it accurate at all? Is it completely off? Let me know in the comments!

And with that, I digress. I’m not sure whether I’ll be covering general demographics next week or diving into the topic of ships (could be a mix of both), but I will be posting about it eventually, so make sure to hit the follow if you got to the end of this post and enjoyed it or learned something new from it!

Friendly reminder that this survey and post is in no way supposed to be taken 100% seriously. These are just the ramblings of a math major INFP with too much time on her hands and way too big of an obsession for MCYT. My asks are always open for literally anything, whether if you want to ask me about this or any DNF related subject, my own opinions, or just criticize the whole of this post and tell me it’s complete trash! I’ll answer as long as it’s appropriate!

And, again, thank you everyone who filled out the survey. Without y’all, this post wouldn’t be possible. I really enjoyed writing it! Adios!

[zaffrenotes]

[TRR: WD106] Avoiding A Blunder

Summary: Prince Liam has to fill in for Crown Prince Leo, and Murphy’s Law is put into motion at the end of his trip. Chaos ensues, condensed Wacky Drabble style. Fic Rating/Warning: M; alcohol consumption, minor health/medical emergency, anxiety/angst Author’s Note: All main characters belong to Pixelberry/The Royal Romance, I’m just borrowing them * Fictional versions of IRL individuals are included with affection; any other characters mentioned in this piece are my creation * This is my submission for @wackydrabbles Prompt 106: You’re gonna get us busted! * You have @the-soot-sprite and @ao719 to thank for this ridiculousness, lol - Soot reblogged a photo, Betsy sent me this request

and...this is what my brain came up with (PS - thank you both for the movie discussion) * For the purposes of this story, Triydalia is a fictional country that shares a border with Thailand * Word Count: 1999 😅 (7 minutes reading time)

Taglist (if your name is crossed out, I'll tag you in the comments): @/ao719 @burnsoslow @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @ofpixelsandscribbles @rainbowsinthestorm @superharriet @/the-soot-sprite @choiceskatie @jaqren @aestheticartsx @bbrandy2002 @dcbbw @gnatbrain @jared2612 @kingliam2019 @ladyangel70 @lovingchoices14 @nestledonthaveone @princessleac1 @queenjilian @sfb123 @texaskitten30 @theroyalheirshadowhunter @yourmajesty09

Liam was used to filling in for Leo at a moment’s notice; participating in conference calls with ambassadors for early morning updates when Leo overslept, and attending meetings with ministers when Leo went AWOL. He’d grown accustomed to his brother’s antics, but he wondered how Bastien managed to keep his position, when he’d lost track of Leo’s whereabouts countless times.

While Leo spent more time avoiding his duties as Crown Prince of Cordonia, Liam dutifully took on the extra responsibilities in stride. It often meant partitioning his already packed schedule to sit in on vital cabinet meetings or dining with visiting dignitaries, but sometimes Leo’s vanishing acts gave Liam the opportunity to travel.

Though their ambassadors handled the majority of day-to-day relations with other countries for trade, Constantine preferred to meet face-to-face when he could. One such time, a lingering cough turned to walking pneumonia, restricting Constantine to as much bed rest as possible. It also meant sending Leo to Japan for a meeting with the Prime Minister in his stead.

It would have been fine, if Leo hadn’t pulled another one of his disappearing acts.

--

A week later, Liam was seated on the royal jet on his way back from Tokyo, navy attache with espresso brown leather trim in the chair next to him. Across from him, Maxwell chatted with Anya over various Thai dishes. On the other side of the plane, Drake was in a heated discussion with leggy blonde Anitah while the ladies’ petite friend Donna observed in silence, fighting back a grin. “You’re an imbecile if that’s your opinion,” Anitah declared, raising her hands up in the air. “Are you sure that’s the hill you wanna die on?”

Drake smugly sipped from the crystal tumbler in his hand. “I’m right and you know it.”

“What are you two talking about?” Liam asked, relieved to think about anything other than what was in the bag and why it was so important he hand deliver it to his father.

“Fight Club being a better cinematic masterpiece than The Princess Bride,” Drake replied. “You guys agree, right? If you could only watch one movie for the rest of your life, you’d want to watch Tyler Durden fight the system instead of some…” he paused to sneer at Anitah, who crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue at him, “...story about a swashbuckler rescuing a princess? She’s not even a real princess!”

“Fight Club is such a guy movie though,” Anya argued, turning in her seat to face Drake. “Princess Bride appeals to men and women, with a much larger audience.”

“Okay, that’s two for Buttercup,” Drake sighed. “Maxwell? Li?” He looked at his friends expectantly.

“Fight Club, definitely,” Maxwell said, nodding his head. He’d spent the better part of the trip doing everything to get into Drake’s good graces after the octopus incident on the first night in Tokyo.

Before Liam could respond, a commotion from the front of the plane made everyone’s heads turn, where a pair of Kings Guards and two flight attendants were seated near the galley. One of the guards slipped into the cockpit, rushing out a moment later in Liam’s direction, as the jet slowly tilted to the right. “Apologies, Your Highness. Do you or any of your guests happen to speak Triydalian?”

Anya slowly raised her hand. “I knew a bit when I was a kid, but I haven’t used it in years.”

The guard motioned for her to join him. “Please come with us, miss. The pilots need a translator.”

“Is everything alright, Remy?” Liam peered past the guard, eyes widening at the sight of the other guard and one attendant hovering in front of the other attendant in a chair.

“We need to land the plane, Sir,” Remy answered, ushering Anya up from her seat. “Ramona passed out. She’s breathing but unresponsive.”

--

Twenty minutes later and after a jarring landing, they’d arrived at a small airport in the Republic of Triydalia, at the edge of one of the country’s many jungle forests. Calling it an airport was generous - it was more of a cleared dirt path in the middle of the jungle with a shack for an airport tower, and a man that looked like more of a hunter than an air traffic controller. After a choppy conversation that required pantomiming and hand signals, Anya left with Remy and the man from the tower to fetch a tribal doctor, while Anitah and Donna assisted the other member of the cabin crew to look after Ramona. They were warned to remain as quiet as possible and to stay inside the jet.

Minutes passed by in tense observation; Anitah and Drake continued their debate in low whispers, growing louder as they defended their choices. Liam could see the pilots discussing something pointedly as they checked readings on the instrument panel and worked on calculations. One of them stepped out, claiming that he needed to stretch his legs, and walked cautiously down the runway. When he returned, the other pilot joined him outside, despite the original warning to stay inside. Liam peered out the windows and checked his watch, worrying about Anya and Remy, along with his father’s instructions to avoid delaying their return.

While the remaining guard headed towards the back of the plane to pace back and forth for the eighth time, Liam took it upon himself to speak with the pilots. The air was thick and stifling the moment he stepped outside. Around them, there was nothing but green, green, and more green from the wilderness that surrounded them, abuzz with tropical birds and insects. At his side he carried the blue attache, remembering the promise to his father that the bag wouldn’t leave his sight. He spoke in a hushed tone when he approached the pilots. “You’re doing more than just stretching your legs, aren’t you, Captain?”

Both men grimaced slightly. “Yes, Your Highness. Even if we pulled back to one end of the runway, we’re still at least five hundred feet short of clearing takeoff.”

“What if we worked to try and clear the brush on either end?” Liam offered, looking off into the distance.

“There’s no way to clear out the trees, even the young ones,” the co-captain answered. “We might be able to take off if we could drop some weight, but the larger concern is the longer we wait, we increase the risk of encountering someone who doesn’t want us here.”

Liam nodded gravely; months of civil unrest in Triydalia meant rebel groups assembled faster than the government could contain them. There was no guarantee of anyone’s safety, stranded on a remote runway. There was no telling what was wrong with Ramona while she was unconscious, and therefore no way to treat her without the aid of a doctor. Ensuring the safety of the crew and his friends could have been avoided altogether if Leo didn’t constantly opt out of handling the duties of his station. In that moment, Liam abhorred the never-ending list of responsibilities thrust at him as a result of having to pick up the slack for his brother, knowing if their roles were reversed, Leo would manage to find a way to leave Liam to solve problems on his own.

“Could you excuse me for a moment?”

He’d barely finished asking the question before walking into the tall grass by the edge of the runway. Ignoring the pilots’ calls to return, Liam sprinted into the dense greenery, dodging between vines and scanning the ground for tripwires until he could no longer see the plane over his shoulder. When he finally stopped running, he bent over, hands on his knees as he gulped in air. Liam looked down at the blue bag in his hand, wondering what on earth was so precious to reduce him to a courier.

Shaking the bag did nothing; it felt practically empty, though he could tell something was inside. He couldn’t open the bag to check, since Prime Minister Abe and his father were the only ones with keys, and PM Abe handed him the sealed bag when they parted ways. Liam wanted to throw the infernal “murse” the ladies had good-naturedly teased him for into the bushes. Perspiration dotted his hairline, and he let out a primal scream, before taking slow, deep breaths to quiet the worrisome thoughts racing in his head and bring his heartbeat down to normal.

Cursed courier bag in his right hand, Liam braced his arm against his torso, pinning it in place with his elbow when he bent his other arm up towards his face. Curling his fingers into a relaxed fist, he pressed his lips against his thumb, thick brows furrowing in thought. All around him, wild birds called to one another amidst the chittering clamor of insects hidden in the foliage. He was so busy running through scenarios in his head that he didn’t hear the quiet click of a camera, turning to look up only when he heard a branch snap in the distance.

“Watch it! You’re gonna get us busted!” Donna hissed to Drake. She pocketed her phone, elbowing Drake in the ribs as they crouched behind large leaves. She ticked her head in Liam’s direction. “Go get your boy, none of us are safe out here.”

After some coaxing, Liam headed back to the plane with Donna and Drake, walking briskly through the jungle, eyes trained to look for anything out of the ordinary. Liam was alarmed when he heard and then saw the engines running, until Drake explained the pilots were burning off fuel to lighten the plane. They’d begun to walk up the steps, when Maxwell popped out above them. “Whoo!” Maxwell exclaimed, digging for another snack from the container he cradled in his arm. “Feels like a sauna out here!”

“Lower your voice, Maxwell! Please!” Liam seethed. His features pinched together in disbelief. “Are you...eating? Now?”

“You know I stress snack,” Maxwell replied, shrugging his shoulders. He shoved another cookie into his mouth.

Liam’s eyes lit up and he took the stairs two by two, knocking on the cockpit door before swinging it open. “What if we unloaded whatever’s not bolted down? The decor, dinnerware, the food and drink?”

“That...would certainly help,” the captain replied, looking back over his shoulder. He turned to his co-pilot. “It could be enough to get in the air after burning off the excess fuel.”

“You heard the man, Maxwell,” Liam said, offering his friend a nervous grin. “Get Drake to help you start unloading the plane. Has Ramona’s status changed?”

“Donna found the first aid kit just before she took off with Drake to go after you. Anitah found some smelling salts that gave her a rude wakeup call. Turns out her insulin pump shorted and she just needed some juice.”

Several more minutes passed as the group removed whatever they could from the plane, leaving piles of cookware, food, throw pillows, and even seat cushions to lighten the load. Drake whined when they gathered up the liquor, but he stuffed a bottle of whiskey in a cabinet by his seat. They’d nearly finished when Anya and Remy returned, running on foot. “That thing better be ready to take off!” Anya hollered, motioning for everyone to board. “Rebels on our tail! Time to go!”

Everyone scrambled back onto the plane; Liam relayed the urgency to depart to the pilots, who rapidly went through their flight checklist. Remy pulled Anya up onto the steps and they all clamored to buckle into their seats, the sound of gunfire in the air as the jet rolled forward and lurched up into the air, barely clearing the canopy.

Adrenaline pumping and breaths shallow, Liam looked around at his friends and the crew, thankful they were safely in the air again.

--

Liam thought he was having a stroke at twenty-four when he saw the contents of the bag. Constantine smiled with glee at the small gold cat, one paw raised.

[waywardimpalawriter]

“Kissing me breaks the promise… remember?" with Javier and can I please have a happy ending, I know it's angst prompts but.... :D Thank you!

Crazy Love

Pairing: Javier Peña x Plus Size Female Reader

Characters: Javier Peña, Steve Murphy, mentions Connie Murphy

Setting: After season one episode 7 ‘You will cry tears of blood’, five months after the events in ‘Heels’,

Rating: M (Mature), E (Explicit), NSFW, 18+ only please

Warnings: mentions of gun violence, almost killing a child, self hatred, smut, unprotected sex, Angry Javier (yes he needs a warning), angst, slight fluff at the end,

Summary: One slip up, reacting too quickly he could’ve ended the life of one way too young to fight the wars of old men. Thoughts filled with darkness, what if’s and self degradation. Wanting to loose himself in the only way he knows. To find because of you he can brave the dawn and the coming war.

Word count: 5,985 (with lyrics)

Notes: Thank you so much for the request sweetie, @autumnleaves1991-blog I hope you enjoy. Prompt in bold. The song used is ‘Crazy Love’ written by Van Morrison and preformed by various artists. This also a sequel to “Heel’s part 1” written some months back.

Tag List:

Forever’s: @chickensarentcheap @jedi-mando

Knuckles white with the grip he’s got on the steer wheel, eyes darting between the thin packed streets and Murphy with the baby in his arms. “What about the kid? Any ideas where to take her?”

Missing the shrug, with his eyes back on the road, “For now I’ll take her with us.” Smirk twitching his dark blond mustache with the look Javier pins him with at a stop light. “Don’t worry Javi she ain’t gonna stay with you. Poor darlin can’t live on whiskey and cigarettes. Though the parade of women might slow with her at your apartment.”

“There’s no parade jackass,” trying to focus on the road ahead and off what almost occurred three hours ago.

Subtle tick to his jaw knowing something’s bothering his partner about what went down. More to the point of how it went to shit and letting two high ranking Sicario slip through their fingers. “Wanna spill what’s eaten at you?”

“No just take care of the kid don’t need you play shrink in my head,” pulling up to the embassy, Javier kills the engine turning fully to look at Steve. “Care to share your explanation to Noonan or will you wing it?”

Shrugging Steve glances down into her sleepy eyes trying to figure out just what he’ll say. More importantly what he’s going to tell Connie. “I’m not,” looking back over at Peña seeing a raised brow. “I’ll take her home to Connie, figure out this shit as we go.”

“I’m sure Y/N would babysit,” mentioning you name cut deeply as the last month he’s put distance between the two of you. Continuing the relationship based solely on your sexual needs instead of the feeling he keeps buried.

“Doubtful, she’s working on transferring out. Packing I’m sure takes her time up right now,” seeing the scowling confusion drawing his brows down. “You knew she asked for a transfer right?”

“When?” Curses fill his mind. Directed fully at himself for letting the situation spiral out of control to the point you’ve become that notch on his bed post. Telling himself he’s going to let you go but never finding the courage to actually cut the strings. “She never mentioned taking a transfer. ”

The nights spent together you never mentioned a transfer. But then words rarely left either of your lips that’s not in passionate pleas wanting more or demands for completion. Conversations the first to go in the crumbling relationship, embraces followed not long after and the final straw added a month and a half ago. No kisses on the mouth anyway a promise you made him invoke to separate the past pleasures from the present stalemate.

Revisiting those thoughts often, Javier understood why you made the decision. One he hated but respected. Wondering most nights why you still let him inside your soft plush body instead of putting up a wall between the two of you. Shoving him out of your life fully. But then the transfer you didn’t speak of talked louder than any uttered words could.

“Two weeks ago, something about returning back to the States. Damn shame Y/N’s a fucking amazing secretary even better person. Why’d you go fuck things up for us both?” Wanting to knock some sense into Javier but a part of Steve understood the other man’s reasons for pushing you away. “Just let her go man this job she’s not fit nor can put up with the stress. I know I pushed at first but whatever you did to shover her away it’s for the best.”

“She’s a lot stronger than you know,” said more to himself than Steve. Other mans words hitting deeper than Javier would say, his fingers tightening around the leather steering wheel. “You don’t know shit Murphy.”

“I know a month ago things changed between the two of you.” Switching the baby to his other arm cradling her close to his chest. “Whatever happened she become withdrawn, stopped smiling as much,” piercing him with a hard stare. “Reverting back to the woman I first met when coming Bogota.” Glancing out the windshield Steve drag a hand over his face exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “ piece of advice either fess up explain what’s eaten at you or let her go.”

Selfishness claws at his mind wanting to keep you from leaving. From getting away not only from Columbia it’s self but from him. The realistic half needing you safe a world removed from the war starting to build back up. This afternoon’s events flash through his mind of how he almost killed a kid. A fucking kid who tried to protect the Sicario scum he chased and cornered. Would’ve had him had the kid not pulled a gun on him. The decision not to pull the trigger an easy one this time. But what about the next? Making him no better than the men he chases if he decided to take the shot so easily. Affirming those thoughts to let you go for your greater good and health.

“Javi?” Snapping fingers to gain his attention. “Deep in thought or just swimming the shallow waters?”

Scowl taking up home over his features, “Don’t worry about it doesn’t concern you.”

“Fuck you say, she’s my friend to Javi.” Shaking his blond head wondering how much pushing it’ll take before Peña would break. “Besides I think Connie has a good chance at kicking your ass if you do anymore damaged. She’s wanted to get her hooks into you for a while now.”

Almost chuckling at those words though it’s mirthless and self deprecating. “She’s next in line,” tossing the words out while starting the Jeep. Silence reigns on the drive over to their apartment, pulling up to the curb and letting Steve out.

Who pauses in the open door, “Heading to Y/N’s? Or back to the Embassy?”

“Paperwork,” impatiently waiting for Steve to shut the door.

Eager for some peace and time to think. He sees you standing in the doorway arms crossed under your generous breasts. For once actually studying your features taking in the fact you look somber, dressed in well loved jeans and baggy T-shirt. No makeup, though Javi told you a thousand times how beautiful you look without all those cosmetics painted on your face. Heart kicking up at the way your staring at him. Barely seen with you so far away but he knows there’s a softness shining in your eyes. Emotions he’s never tried to decipher in other women till you. Thoughts now run into each other, fears chasing after wanting so much but feeling undeserving.

Soft chuckle echos around the Jeep’s cabin making Javi glance at Steve, “Time better served explaining than useless paperwork.” Looking over his shoulder to find you gone, “Before it’s to late and she’s gone.” Door slamming shut, Steve leans in through the open window with a meaningful expression on his handsome face. Patting the inside slight nod of his blond head before turning to go inside leaving Javier with to many thoughts.

Pulling away from the curb happening to glance back towards the apartments catching you standing at the window. Hand pressed to the glass unreadable look on your face one he’s sure shows signs of displeasure and anger. With a blink your silhouette disappears heart clenching at the thought he’s just imagined you standing there. Another curse flies from his lip, palm forcefully slamming down on the steering column doing nothing to temper the anger boiling inside his mind. Instead Javier guns the engine taking off at a high rate of speed receiving numerous honks in irritated warning.

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

Letting the curtain fall back in place wild thumping of your heart pulsing out a rhythm that aches with every pound. Partly hating yourself for getting involved with a man incapable of having any kind of relationship other than sexual. Asking yourself why you keep letting him back into your bed, into your heart knowing it’ll just break in the end. Only one answer comes to mind and you push it firmly back into the dark abyss. Focusing on what you needed to done. Having struggled for the last two months with the decision to finally put in for a transfer home, away from Columbia and Javier Peña. Never an easy choice especially when you’ve fallen in love with a man who would never love you back.

Heavy knocking makes you jump in spot leaning against the wall by the window. Hand coming to rest against the quickly beating organ threatening to thump right outta your chest. Taking a breath trying to calm down from the freight you take small steps to eat up the distance towards the door. Another round of pounding has a scowl appearing wondering who would beat your door down at this time of evening.

“Hold your horses I’m comin’ already,” raising you voice loud enough to at least pause the noise.

Grasping the doorknob right when, “Hermosa,” his voice pulls your hand back almost as if the knob burned you with that very endearment. “Open up you can’t hide I know your there.”

“Go away Javier I’m not in the mood,” arms crossed glaring at the door. Pivoting on bare feet to track towards the kitchen going back to sorting through what your keeping and leaving behind. Freezing in place the unmistakeable sound of a key sliding into lock. Cursing the fact you never asked for the spare back and giving him one in the first place. Try as you might to make your feet move instead there rooted in spot when the door opens. “I didn't invite you in Javi turn your ass around and leave.”

Breath escaping quickly, eyes narrowing after searching the apartment he’s spent the last months in. Catching sight of half filled boxes, newspaper scattered over the coffee table, before landing on your furious features. Hands gripping wide hips, soft chin jutted out in annoyance while eyes spit anger burying the true feelings deep. “It’s true?”

“Why do you care?” Countering his words biting the inside of your cheek to keep tears from sliding coldly down your cooling skin. “Leave Javier,” exasperated and tired just wanting to move on, putting the relationship in the past.

Not two steps away his warm gun callused hand incloses around your wrist tugging and turning your plush body around to face him. “Not till you answer me.”

“We don’t talk about feelings remember Peña, your rules,” yanking your wrist free glare firmly in place.

Flinching at the harsh tone eyes scorching him with there intensity, his own somber and filled with regret. Deserving of those very words no matter how much they hurt. He moves forward for you to take one back reaching to grasp both shoulders. Taking another step out of his reach slow two step pattern finds your back pressed against the bar counter. Reminiscent of the first time you made love all those months ago. Except this time you’d stand strong push him away and not fall prey to those warm russet eyes filled with so many indescribable emotions.

“Stupid rule I never should’ve put in our relationship,” three feet of space between the two of you. Both chests heaving breaths eyes locked and searching. His eyes close drawing in your familiar scent letting it wash all the days stress clean for a single moment in time. Ear’s picking up the quick beating of your heart wishing as his eyes open a smile would bloom over those kissably soft lips.

“But you did and there’s no taking it back now,” firm stance starting to crumble under the weight of emotions filtering through his dark eyes.

Half way to reaching out his hands drop back to fist at his sides, “I’m sorry hermosa I didn’t mean…” unsure how to fix what’s broken. Never good at speaking his feelings even when the need presents its self.

I can hear her heart beat for a thousand miles

And the heavens open every time she smiles

And when I come to her that's where I belong

Yet I'm running to her like a river's song

“What’d want from me Javier?” Pleading tone arms crossed to close your body off. Putting up a defense against the one man who’s managed to crumble every wall surround your heart. To starve off the bubbling emotions threatening to spill over and consume you.

Closing the small gap, callused hands cup both cheeks, fingers spread from apples to jawlines. Brushing his thumbs under your eyes his own pleading and soft ‘the puppy’ look you nicknamed it two weeks into the relationship. “To kiss you.”

Swallowing harshly, “Kissing me breaks the promise… remember?" Willing your body not to react, not to turn and place kisses to his palm. Nuzzling the warmth drawing peace from his comforting touch. “We made rules you know how I feel about kissing Javi.”

Almost two months ago things started to fall apart. Always asking yourself why you still let him into your bed and body. Part of you knowing the space carved Javier hole in your heart will never close. Not even denying the both of you those intimate kisses could change the fact he’s wormed his way through defenses long held too fall in love with your DEA agent.

“I know mi amor,” sliding one hand down from your face to wrap his arm around your thick waist. Pulling you flush into his embrace and against his body. Turning the both of you so it’s his back pressed into the counter. Savoring the softness wishing you’d hold him. Run your fingers through his hair and chase away the stress currently resurfacing with your tense posture. “I don’t want you to leave.” No truer words spoken ones that cut his very soul with the implications of what could happen if he didn’t take Steve’s advice.

Agony rips a new hole in your heart at his words, at the endearment dripping from those sinful lips. “You don’t mean that.” Eyes close to keep from staring into russet browns. Trying not to give in and foolishly hope he means what he speaks.

“I do hermosa,” eyes popping open at the barest brush of his chapped lips against yours, widen orbs find his shut, brow furrowed. “I don’t want to loose you.”

“Javier,” breathlessly whispering his name. The intensity of Javi’s declaration scares you not wanting to believe for a second his words ring true. Not when so many broken promises lay at your feet. Yet, if there’s one thing you know about Javier Peña he’s honest, never lying to you about what he wanted. Holding back sure, not letting you in those tightly held defenses of his own fuck yes, but lie to you never. Those thoughts make others chase after. Ones that scare you into thinking you’ve made a huge mistake by asking for the transfer. Could you leave his man who holds your heart? Walk away from a relationship that’s possibly just hitting a rough patch? So engrossed in those thoughts you don’t realize he’s tipping your chin up to angle your head in the prefect position to slot his mouth over yours.

Javier’s restraint having snapped with his name slipping from your bitten lips, wanting to meld the two of you together in the only way he knows how. Showing you with his body what his words couldn’t express. Javier captures your mouth in a bruising kiss filled with demands. Teeth biting at your lips, dragging plump bottom in to abuse with nibbles and soothing over with his tongue. Harsh gasp blown from your mouth giving him access to the warm cavern. Drinking from your well, tasting your flavor on his tongue always returning for more. Tangling together as his arm tightens around your soft waist.

Garnering a moan of need from deep within your chest. Attacking his mouth with your own, fingers coming into play by carding through those thick mahogany strands tugging harshly. Receiving a growl in return that vibrates down to your very core clit throbbing in response to his rough actions.

Mouths parting to gather air, “I need you hermosa please,” desperation coloring his tone foreheads resting together. The hand still cupping your cheek slides around to gently cup the back of your head. “I need…” swallowing hard, fighting to keep from taking you hard and fast right there. Burying the fear and pain, the anger and worry into your soft gentle body. Letting you sooth the demons threatening to consume his soul. But he couldn’t, promising to never show that side of himself to you.

Those thoughts in mind Javier moves in to kiss you only to chase your mouth till you place fingers over his searching lips. Seeing a spark of need in he eyes that’s closed away before fully blooming. Leading you to remember a conversation the two of you had at the on set of your relationship. Knowing what he needed and how, you step back watching his features fall with his arms to the side.

Only to have confusion replace the crestfallen expression as you tug the t-shirt up and off your body. Standing in just your panties and jeans, “I told you a long time ago Javier I’m not made of glass this body…” hands gliding up from your waist to soft tummy and generous breasts. “Won’t break if your rough with me.” Heat sparking in eyes that will him to listen, give in and take you. “If I’m staying and we work this out you’ll have to let me in.”

Each word hits him hard square in the heart, “I don’t want to hurt you cariño.”

“You already have Javier,” head dropping you go to tug your shirt back on. Only to have it ripped from your hand and tossed somewhere unseen. That soft gasp making his heart beat triple time. Strong arms wrap around your body to bring you back into his warmth. “Fix what you broke.”

There’s no gentleness to the possessive kiss Javier captures your mouth with. Large warm hands grip your plush ass to press into your tummy the thick ridge of his jeans covered erection. Low growl slipping passed parted gasping lips that angle for the right spot to draw those whimpers and moans he can never get enough of. Separating long enough to have you rip his tan button up open, little plastic disks pinging off the wall and tiled floor. Scoring your short nails over his soft tummy, toying with the button of his jeans.

“Fuck,” hissing through kiss swollen lips that attack your neck with bitting teeth. Wanting to mark each inch of you in reminder to himself of who you derive your pleasure from. “Do that again,” demanding cadence gets a soft smirk to spread over your bitten lips.

Keeping your eyes lock, breath existing quickly because of the passionate kiss. Short nails rake up his chest and leave little red lines behind. Detouring to pinch his pebbled tight nipples receiving another low growl against the skin of your collarbone. Where his mouth sucks a purpling mark laving his tongue over the bruising skin. Enjoying the shutter he feels race down your spine.

Pushing the shirt from his shoulders Javier raises his head to stare into your desire darken eyes. “Fuck me Javier till I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Simple words ignite a passion and deep seated need inside his body to claim and wreak you. Clothing becomes nothing more than obstacles in the way of having naked skin against his own. The two of your fumbling with buttons and zippers. His parting on a sigh of relief as you push the fabric to pool around his ankles. Nimble fingers brushing through course little hairs. Leading your hand to wrap around his shaft. Thick girth barely covered by your hand that you pump along heated velvet skin.

Smirking at the groaning string of Spanish curses falling from his lips. Only replaced by the pout, when he brushes your hand away. Mouth still just inches from yours brushing taking another sip from your lips. Drowning in the taste of your mouth, the feel of your plump lips against his. Devouring the pout and only breaking to whisper, “Later princesa.” Toeing off boots and soak covered feet pressing out of jeans, naked as on his born day for your eyes to devour.

Becoming insnared with his beauty far too long for Javier’s liking. Lips licked slowly watching the bob of his jutting cock. Mouth watering in want of a taste. Quick breaths expanded his soft covered muscular chest your hands itch to dust over. His handsomeness distracting you to the point a squeal issues from the back of your throat when he pulls you by the belt loops towards the couch. Skilled fingers making quick work of getting your jeans undone warm palms sliding the fabric down your body.

Javier drops back into the couch bringing you between his spread knees and placing kisses to your tummy. Nuzzling the underside of your breasts. Looking up to ensnare your vision with his own desire filled gaze. Strong arms holding you in place while eyes close, nose rubbing into your soft scantly skin resting his head on your tummy. Hands coming up to card through his hair gently this time tugging the locks and wrapping his shoulders with your arms. Emotions clogging your throat burning with the need to release the tears of mixed feelings.

Moaning head tossing back when his warm tongue peeking out to teasing the taut nipples his hands tug your panties down. Becoming impatient and ripping the thin cotton from your body. Making you gasp and look down into those desire blacken eyes you choose happily to drown in. “You’ll…” swallowing your words on a moan as those thick skilled fingers draw through your folds. Tapping your clit several times and retreating to slide inside your clinching walls.

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She's got a fine sense of humor when I'm feeling low down

And when I come to her when the sun goes down

Take away my trouble, take away my grief

Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief

“I’ll buy you more cariño and go with you to help pick out certain ones,” giving you a cheeky wink. Groaning with the feel of slick coating his fingers, smirk in place when your hands brace on his shoulders to keep from tipping over into his arms. Pulling his fingers out to suck them clean making sure your watching his every move. The resounding whimper he draws out brings the same smug grin too tug at his lips. Gripping the back of your thick thighs to spread your stance and slot his own knees between.

Pulling you down against him knees on either side of his thighs. Hiss issued at the contact of your dripping folds coating his shaft trapped between your bodies. Rolling hips to tease your own hands gripping the back of the couch to brace yourself while raising up. Deep moan breaks from your chest when Javier draws the fat cock head through your folds. Circling your clit as your hips match the movements. Waiting till he’s notched himself at your entrance before slamming down against him.

Head tossing back at the stretch and burn of him splitting you open gasps of delight echo and play with the groans from Javier. Who grips your hips, holding you against him for a time face buried in your chest. Hot mouth searching out blindly latching onto your right nipple to bite down just hard enough to make your quivering channel squeeze him tightly.

“Fuck,” single word mumbled against your skin. When you start to move setting a quick pace that’s hard and demanding. Head dropping back between your gripping hands. String of curses and praise leave his lips. “Just like that hermosa, so fucking wet for me,” grunting into your mouth that came to fuss to his. Sharing breaths while you move against his body.

Taking possession of his pleasure with a kiss that’s deep and hungry. Devouring the sounds he makes with each quick roll of your hips. Pressing your generous breasts against the hard plains of his chest, nipples brushing his skin as his own hands grip your thick soft waist. Leaving behind bruises with how tightly he holds you. One hand gliding over sweat slicked skin to cup a full ass cheek giving a squeeze before landing a hard slap.

Movements falter with the stinging pleasure coursing through your veins, “Javi.” Kiss breaking breathlessly to catch his eyes. Seeing the indecision clearly written, you nod leaning to brushing your lips over his ear, “Again please.”

Mouth buries against the spot where shoulder and neck meet, planting his feet firmly to thrust into your welcoming cunt quicker. Letting a moment pass till he lands another smack to the other ass cheek. Soothing the pain with his warm palm, “Like that princesa?” Drawing his nose over the sweaty expanse of his throat tossed back on a gasp. Bearing your neck to his hungry gaze and mouth.

Taking advantage to bite and suck, thick mustache abrading your skin in the most delicious of ways. Sending tingles to dance across your skin making your clit throb with each hard pound of his cock deep inside your quivering walls. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders for leverage as your knees sink into the couch and you bounce on Javier’s cock. Thick thighs shaking as orgasm builds quicker than you thought possible.

“Yes,” whimpering out in answer. Both hands cup your ass helping you move against him. Sweat slicked shoulders make for a tough grip movements becoming choppy and sloppy. Low whine bubbles from the back of your throat needing more but unsure how to say.

Javier picks up on the destress, pulling out making the whine lengthen. “Lay back on the couch for me hermosa,” seeing the confusion in your gaze. Javi tugs you to sit in the corner of the couch, pulling till your almost flat and he crawls between those thick thighs he wants wrapped around his waist.

Sliding back inside of you on a groan, “Still so tight for me princesa I could stay buried in your pretty pussy forever never growing tired of having your surround me.”

“Javi,” heat flares across your body at his words, face buried in your palms. Only to have them pulled and placed on his chest. Shocked yet pleased with his sentiments, the way he growls out the words setting off tingles dancing down your spine.

Gasping when he pulls out resting just the tip before surging back angling to hit that little spot only he’s managed to discover inside you. Right leg draped over his hip left dangling off the couch as your hands scrap and grope at his shoulders. Strong arms press on either side of you holding himself up while rocking his hips into yours. Setting a fast and hard pace that has you gasping, moans of incoherent words tumble from your mouth that hangs open trying to gather breath.

Watching with hooded eyes, drinking in the way you look, the passion morphing your features never wanting to let you go. To always see you in the throws of pleasure he delivers to your body. Praying to whoever will listen that you’ll stay. Those thoughts creating a fire inside his body that moves quicker.

Wanting to show you his feelings by repeatedly burying his cock deep inside your throbbing cunt. Loving your soft thick body with his mouth latching onto a breast. Nipping skin and taunt nipples, curling his tongue before biting down and switching to the twin. Feeling your nails score his back and shoulders only driving on his own pleasure.

Needing you to cum first though, Javier slides one hand between your slick bodies to caress your clit with tight circles of pressure. Smirking into your flesh when you gasp and squirm under him. His name breathlessly spoken to the heavens your back arching off the couch. “That’s my girl cum for me amor soak my cock.”

“Javier,” fingers card through his hair pulling his mouth back to yours. Tender and sweet nothing like the previous kisses as you pour your heart out to the man pounding you into the couch. Foreheads rest together, moans dripping from your lips brushing against his trying to hold back to draw out the pleasure. Afraid of the final moment he finds completion and walks out of your life maybe for good this time. “I love you,” unable to stop those three words from tumbling out. Orgasm slamming through your body with the hard thrusts of Javier’s hips. Crying out his name, arching against him breath stuck along with tears in your throat.

Swearing he heard things, Javier’s pace stuttered but his heart pounds quicker. Hips having a mind of their own as his body rushes to completion. Cumming harder than he’s ever in his life, filling your clinching walls with hot stick seed. Strength evaporated from his arms collapsing into your embrace. Burying his face in your neck, hot moist breath fanning out over your skin. Small after shocks roll through both your bodies garnering whimpers and moans from both of you.

Time, unsure of how much passes while you card fingers through his sweat slicked hair. Enjoying this moment, basking in the after glow of your love making while praying it’s not the end.

“Don’t leave,” words whispered into your skin so low there barely caught. Wondering if you’ve heard things your fingers pause watching on stuttering breath as Javier raises his head to stare into your eyes. Wondering if you meant what you said or just caught up in the pleasurable sex and let it out. It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask when you beat him to the punch.

“I… I…” words lost in the jumble of your mind unsure what to say. Fearful your passionate declaration went unheard or worse ignored.

Cupping your cheek surprised to find tears tracking down your cheek, “Don’t leave me Y/N please.”

Searching his bright russet eyes confused till you see what he’s really saying. Realization blooming across your mind your own hand coming up to embrace his cheek. Thumb swiping over the apple, “I’ll speak to Noonan.” Bringing his mouth down to yours for a soft sweet kiss.

“Do you really love me?” Foreheads resting together breath held, his eyes closed tightly fearing the answer.

Shocked he’s asking. Remembering the times you tried to get him to talk about his feelings becoming shut down pushing the conversation away or distracting you with kisses and sex. With the lengthening silence Javier dares to open his eyes catching the soft expression in yours that cracks his frozen heart.

“I wouldn’t say those words if I didn’t mean them Javi you know that,” continuing to brush your fingers over his stubbled jaw. Up into his soft sweaty hair to gently scratch his scalp knowing how much he enjoys when you do. Rewarded with a low purr from the back of his throat. “What happened today baby?”

Fear keeps him quiet for a moment till, “I almost killed a kid.” Lowering his stare to map your skin with his eyes adding the marks he left behind to his memory. Fear returning now that you’ve heard how much of a monster he’s turning into.

“Did you shoot?” There’s no accusations or incrimination, voice softly seeking a way to help sooth the demons you saw when he first arrived.

Carefully pulling from your warm depths and embrace to sit on the edge of the couch face buried in his hands. Missing the whimper at loosing his touch. You grab for the blanket draped over the back to cover yourself in self consciousness. Moving carefully to sit up and lean against his shoulder. Fingers carding through his hair slowly while placing the other around his waist. Waiting till he’s ready to start speaking not wanting to push.

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

Yes I need her in the daytime

Yes I need her in the night

Yes I want to throw my arms around her

Kiss her hug her kiss her hug her tight

Welcoming warmth enveloping his body that cleaves into you. Baritone rough with emotions, “No I couldn’t pull the tigger, didn’t want to shoot some kid who’s stupidly following the orders of a man who doesn’t care about him.”

“Listen to me Javi you’re not Escobar you’ll never have that narcissistic attitude.” Turning his face to look at you, brushing the stubble with your fingertips. “Yes you’ve done some questionable things for good reasons to take down this asshole who would gladly see all of Columbia burn just to get and keep what he wants.” Leaning in to brush your nose against his, “I couldn’t love a man who killed people for kicks Javier. That’s not what you do. You save people, protect them as best you can.”

Unworthiness filtering through his thoughts never expecting to find someone who loved him faults and all. Intertwining his fingers with the hand previously on his cheek bring the back to his lips to place a kiss. “I don’t deserve you hermosa,” swallowing harshly letting your hand go to stand. Unconcerned with his nakedness Javier stretches popping his back then looking down at you.

Worry etched in those beloved eyes that stare unblinkingly at the spot he just vacated. “Leaving now?” Biting off the words tears clouding your vision mistaking his declaration as rejection pulling the blanket tighter around your plush body.

Forefinger and thumb pinching the end of your soft chin raising your gaze to meet his, “Why would I leave when everything I want and love rests with you.”

“Javier?” Voice wobbling with unshed tears.

Pulling the blanket from your body taking in the curves and dips, the softness he’s itching to get his hands back on. But right now Javier brings the nearest hand to his lips, brushing the knuckles with his mouth mustache tickling your skin. Keeping your eyes locked as he tugs you up into his arms. “I’m serious Y/N I don’t deserve you but without you I’m a shell of a man,” bringing his free hand up to cup your cheek deep russet eyes burning with love staring into yours.

“What are you saying?” Fear coating the words, afraid it’s all a dream and you’ll wake without Javier beside you.

Drawing your mouth closer, strong arm wrapping around your thick waist, “I’m saying I love you Y/N and if you’ll have me I’m yours till you kick me out for driving you crazy.”

“You already do that Javi,” watery giggles escaping your lips that brush his twice. Reaching up to card fingers through the soft strands at the back of his head tugging just a little harder than normal. “Say it again.”

Grunting at the tugs sliding a hand down to cup a generous bare ass cheek to give a squeeze. “Drive you crazy.”

Just barely holding in the squeak, “No,” eyes rolling at his cheek. “You know what I mean Javier Peña.”

“I do,” slotting his mouth against yours stealing the breath from your lungs as he kisses you with a passion never felt before. Barely breaking to mumble those three simple words into your lips, “I love you.” Getting lost in your kiss while silently vowing to never let you go or break your heart.

And when I'm returning from so far away

She gives me some sweet lovin' brighten up my day

Yes it makes me righteous, yes it makes me feel whole

Yes it makes me mellow down in to my soul

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Middlemen Part Two

Part One | Next Part | Masterlist Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x Reader Rating: Mature (This may change) Notes: I hope everyone is well :) Thank you for all of the likes/comments/reblogs! AU where Carrillo isn’t married; this story is set in/around Season 1 *Disculpe, señorita - Excuse me, miss **Quién es esa mujer - Who’s that woman? ***Esta buena; La conoces? - She’s hot; you know her? Warnings: Cursing; canon-typical violence Summary: What was it about Horacio Corrillo’s tone that made every question sound like a statement? Ah, you knew what it was. The deadpan delivery coupled with that expression - the one that said, ‘If it were possible for me to kill you with my eyes, you would’ve been dead five minutes ago’.

“We got a tip, we’ve gotta roll!” You looked up from the newspaper you’d been skimming when you heard Ray, your cameraman, and saw him scrambling for his bag. “Aw, fuck,” You mumbled. You’d only just gotten to the station, you hadn’t even had your coffee yet - hell, you hadn’t even put down your shit. Gene Davis, your reporter, was right behind Ray, smoothing his shirt down as if he was right about to go on camera and not get in the van. When you’d been told you’d be going down to Medellín, you’d asked your boss if there was any chance of getting a Colombian reporter, someone that would help you blend in with the locals. Your boss had chuckled as he shook his head, told you that you were thinking too small, that the whole point was to stand out. And stand out you did. Colombia was not devoid of red-heads, but they tended to draw the eye. Add Davis’ subpar accent to the mix, and he was caught out pretty quickly. Everywhere you went, Davis’ red hair and flat, American-accented Spanish was like a fucking beacon that said ‘the gringo reporters are here to talk to you’. You did your best when you were interviewing people, pulling the stories together for Gene before he had to go on camera, but people were usually distracted by him. You had an easier time asking questions when he wasn’t around. “I’m taking my bike,” You called out to Ray and Gene. That was easier. You’d get ahead, canvas the area, speak to a few people before the red-hot gringo alarm arrived on the scene. --

“What are you doing here.” What was it about Horacio Corrillo’s tone that made every question sound like a statement? Ah, you knew what it was. The deadpan delivery coupled with that expression - the one that said, ‘If it were possible for me to kill you with my eyes, you would’ve been dead five minutes ago’. “I’ll give you three guesses,” You said before nodding back toward the area that was already cordoned off by tape, “What happened?” “I’ll give you three guesses.” Your brows rose, and a surprised scoff left you. “Alright, smart guy,” You grumbled as you stepped around him. “You shouldn’t be here,” Horacio stuck close to you as you looked around. There were pools of blood on the ground, bullet casings; you could hear weeping. Your first week there, it had turned your stomach. Now, it was becoming the status quo. “You tell that to Valeria Velez, too?” You asked, eyeing the reporter that had already set up with her crew. Horacio graced you with a withering sidelong glance, and you rolled your eyes. “Taking that as a ‘no’,” You mumbled before stepping away from Horacio, walking toward the sound of the weeping. “*Disculpe, señorita,” You said quietly, crouching in front of a young woman. She was sitting on a stoop, head in her hands. She peered up at you, tear tracks cutting through the dirt on her face. You gave her a small smile, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a tissue. You offered it to her and she took it, mumbling, “Gracias.” You gave her a moment to gather herself before you began asking questions. -- Horacio lingered nearby, arms folded across his chest. He was watching his men clean up, but listening to you break down the young woman’s walls. You were gentle with her, didn’t push for answers where she was wary to give them, offered encouragement when she did give you information. You handled her with the same patience he had seen you handle his nephew with the week before. It was...Endearing, almost.

--

You thanked her for her time, gave her another tissue, then straightened, turning away from her and reaching into your bag. You pulled out a small notebook and a pen. Horacio peered over your shoulder, brows furrowed. “What are you--” “Ssh.” He went quiet and still behind you. You looked up at him a few moments later as you tucked the pen behind your ear. “What?” “...Why didn’t you just take notes while you were talking to her?” You shook your head. “People that are in distress don’t like that, they just feel like they’re being milked for info. Which, you know, they are, but I can at least pretend that they’re not.” You began to walk away from him, and you felt him fall into step beside you. “Are you just going to trail me the whole time? Because having you linger around me is actually going to make my job harder,” You stopped walking and looked up at him. You caught a flash of-- You didn’t even know what in Carrillo’s eyes; it disappeared as quickly as it arrived. “Carrillo!” You both turned your head as his name was called. You spotted two men standing by a truck - one brunette, one blond. “Gringos to the rescue,” Carrillo muttered, “Excuse me.” You watched him go, brow furrowed. Gringos to the rescue? What the hell did that mean? You didn’t have time to dwell, though; you had a job to do. -- “What happened?” Murphy asked, nodding toward the building. “Hand-off gone badly. Posion was chewing out the workers about the kilos being light,” Horacio recalled what he’d overheard the woman telling you, “He got a tip-off that we were on our way, we missed him by a few minutes.” “Shit,” Murphy sighed. “My men are still inside clearing out the lab,” Horacio added. Murphy nodded, grabbing his camera from the front seat of the car and stepping around them. “Hey,” Javier nudged Horacio’s arm with his own, lighting a cigarette before nodding over to where you were speaking to another bystander, “**Quién es esa mujer?” “La reportera,” Horacio answered stiffly. He recognized that look in Peña’s eye, saw the sweep that the other man gave your form; the last thing he wanted to have to think about was whether or not he had to protect you from Peña, too. Not that he’d be going out of his way to protect you from things - he’d followed you home that night because his mother had asked him to. “***Esta buena,” Peña muttered, “La conoces?” Horacio felt his jaw clench at the question. Could Peña focus for five minutes? “Javi!” Murphy called Javier from inside. Javier turned his head, nodding when he saw Murphy waving him in. He patted Horacio on the arm, ignorant to the tight pull of the man’s shoulders as he headed inside, expecting Horacio to follow. And follow Horacio did, but not without giving you one more look. -- You didn’t see it. You were too busy speaking with someone. You felt it, though. 

-- “I think we’ve got it,” Gene flashed you his best ‘my face was made to be on television screens’ smile, and you nodded in return. “Let’s get back to the studio, I wanna get this together as quickly as possible,” Ray grumbled as he began packing away his equipment. You already had your script written in your notebook, you just needed to type it up. “I’ll meet you guys back there,” You said, “I wanna grab something to eat.” Gene and Ray nodded, heading for the van. You shifted your bag on your shoulder, walking over to your motorbike. Before you could climb on, you heard, “Finished?” You turned to see Carrillo approaching your motorbike. “For now. Are you?” You added, glancing at the men filing out of the building. “Until next time,” He folded his arms across his chest. You nodded once as you settled on your motorbike, picking your helmet up. “Are you going to insist on tailing me to the station, or am I free to go?” You asked, adjusting your bag so that you wouldn’t jostle it during your ride. Horacio didn’t laugh or crack a smile - not that you’d really expected him to. “What’d you mean earlier when you said ‘gringos to the rescue’?” You asked. Carrillo chanced a glance over his shoulder at the men that had called him over before. “Not everyone came down here with the intention of being a middleman,” Was his explanation. He added, “Drive carefully, patito,” before turning away from you. You floundered for a few moments; that answer had only given you more questions - and why did that nickname sound so sweet coming out of that gruff mouth? You shook your head, pulling your helmet on. You could dwell on all of that later; now, you had a job to do. Tag list: @angels-pie​

[swiftgronmasterpost]

Winter 2013 - The Beginning of the End and Dianna’s Private Tumblr

January 4, 2013 - Haylor Breakup

Taylor and Harry publicly split and leave us with this iconic picture:

January 10, 2013 - People’s Choice Awards

Haylor is done, Harry is back in the UK, but Taylor shows up with a hickey anyway.  (Dianna is in LA at this time.)

Some time this month Taylor writes How You Get The Girl which is about obviously someone who comes back to get the girl.  She references “standing in the rain” and “a long six months.”  It’s hard to know if these details are more “fanfic” or actual autobiographical details.

This six months may actually refer to the end of bearding for a while (because it seems like Swiftgron did reunite in Paris in early October.)  Exactly six months after Taylor started dating Conor Kennedy would be January 25th, 2013.

As for the rain...

It rained twice in LA this month according to weather reports on the 21st and on the 23rd:

Dianna is in LA at this point and has started a private Tumblr blog under the name whosirmesir (we verified it was hers over on @swiftgron-get-married - and you can click here for more on that if you’re curious and actually I did an entire podcast episode walking people through it if you’re like like to listen to an in depth breakdown of it click here for apple OR click here for spotify OR click here for google.  

I also recommend searching the whosirmesir tag on @swiftgron-get-married​ because we’ve logged a lot of interesting moments and connections to Taylor (quotes, art, and other items that tie DIanna and Taylor together.)

On the private tumblr on January 25th Dianna reblogs this:

It reads “i think we’re just gonna have to be secretly in love with each other and leave it at that...”

This is also the time period it is rumored that Dianna proposed to Taylor.  I’m not sure what to make of these rumors.  I have not been able to get anywhere near confirming them.  It’s entirely unsubstantiated - but I explored the rumor further in this blog post (click for link.)  And also on the podcast (will link just a bit down in this post because it relates to something else we’re about to discuss.)

February 4, 2013 - Dianna recommends “Far Nearer” by Jaime on twitter:

The lyrics are essentially:

“I feel better when I, you feel better when I I feel better when I have you near me

You Me You I do, I do, I do“

repeated over and over again

February 9, 2013 - Neruda quote on Tumblr from Dianna

Dianna posts a quote to Tumblr.  The translation is, “I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.”

It’s worth noting that Taylor namechecked Neruda in the Red album booklet.

February 10, 2013 - The Grammys

Dianna wants to make sure everyone is watching:

And Taylor posts:

“Look what happened! :)”

She won for Safe and Sound:

And she performs her circus themed rendition of WANEGBT (where she mocks Harry Styles on stage making fun of his accent when she sings the “so he calls me up on the phone” part of the song even though this song was written before she was even with him.)

The only other time Dianna tweeted about the Grammys was when Glee was involved the year before.

February 14, 2013 - Achele breakfast and The Inside Source at Glee Tweet

According to a Facebook user Cory, Dianna, and Lea have breakfast this morning (or around this time):

Later that day Taylor posts the infamous tweet:

The Glee Episode “I Do” airs and there is no Taylor song included.  However Dianna and Naya’s characters hook up:

After the episode airs Taylor deletes her tweet.

As always I’m not entirely sure what to make of this but to me it boils down to three possibilities:

1.  The fandom seems to think this proves that Dianna purposefully tricked Taylor into watching her “hook up” with Naya on screen.  It’s completely possible that that’s the case but I think the next two options make a bit more sense.

2.  It was a simple misunderstanding or a joke gone wrong.  Taylor had a song earlier on that season of glee (Mine sung as a breakup song by Naya) and I have been told another song of Taylor’s was marketed for another glee episode later that spring.  Perhaps someone got their wires crossed and misinformed Taylor.  

3.  Other nefarious parties:  

a.  It’s possible that Lea was behind this - she publicly had beef with Taylor at one point and she had been with Dianna that morning.  Maybe she met up with DIanna, heard about Swiftgron being happy and back together and got a little jealous and decided to prank Taylor.  

b.  Ryan Murphy also seemed to despise both Dianna and Taylor around this time.  He was also famous for stirring up drama with Gleeks on twitter and generally sewing discontent (particularly surrounding wlw ships and fans).  Ryan seems to have a problem with women/lesbians in general.  He treated Brittana as a couple horribly on Glee as well as their shippers.

He very publicly shaded Taylor in season one of Scream Queens and said in an interview that Dianna ruined Quinn for him because he said she made her sympathetic. 

Not only that but in season 3 he destroyed her character - he made her have a mental breakdown - he had her try and steal a baby - he had her get hit by a car - and a huge plotline in season 3 was Quinn begging Rachel (Lea’s character so Dianna’s irl ex) not to marry Finn (played by Cory - literally the guy Lea chose Dianna over - this is like...emotionally abusive if you ask me.)  After season 3 Dianna only appeared in 8 episodes of the remaining 55 after being in every episode and the top third billed of the cast in the first three seasons.

Furthermore in a show called The New Normal there was a bitchy actress character named Brynn who he wrote as high maintenance and unpleasant and then killed off.

So yeah...seems fair to at least consider that Ryan or Lea who publicly had problems with both Taylor and Dianna may have been trying to create problems for Swiftgron.  One last note about Lea - there was not a single Achele interaction for the entire year of 2013.  The most we got was Dianna liking a tweet about Lea’s album in December 2013 and when asked about one another in interviews they would vaguely say they were still friends.  No tweets to one another, no birthday messages, no candids, no hang outs.  Lea’s book was also written around this time and does not make a single mention of Dianna - her former roommate and “best friend” even though she spends plenty of time talking about others on the Glee cast.

I did a podcast episode on both the proposal rumors and the inside source at Glee tweet if you want more extensive takes on that!

While I’m not entirely sure Dianna had anything to do with this tweet Taylor references this date (2-14-13) by putting it on a dollar bill as a serial number in The Man music video:

At any rate Taylor deletes the tweet and replaces it with one about her dancers:

Dianna tweets 9 hearts that day (I don’t know if that’s significant but if they were together from March 2012 to July 2012 and then October 2012 to this point it would mean 9 months together...)

February 19, 2013 - Sad Charlie Brown Tumblr post from Dianna:

February 27, 2013 - Fitzgerald quote

Taylor listed this as a quote to live by in an interview with Marie Claire a few months later.

I’m not sure if it’s important but Dianna is very quiet this winter and spring in terms of showing up at events, parties, even being papped out on the street compared to other years around this time.  She seems to disappear a bit.

February 27, 2013 - Taylor gives a bday shoutout to her Fiddle player Caitlin:

“Happy Birthday to my magical friend, fiddle extraordinaire @/caitlinbird” 

March 12, 2013 - Weird tweets from Dianna “One of those days.”

March 13, 2013 - It’s the first day of the Red tour (is that why Dianna had questions?)

About the Red Tour - the last act of the tour seems to be circus themed which may have been inspired by Dianna’s 26th birthday the previous year and really interestingly Taylor has a white rabbit, which is a reference to Alice in Wonderland (Dianna’s favorite piece of media ever) follows Taylor around stage during the WANEGBT performance as she’s dressed up like a circus ringleader:

March 18, 2013 - Dianna goes on a Girls HBO rant (we know who also loved Girls the show and its creator Lena Dunham (Taylor))

End of March - Lena and Ashley show up at the Red Tour backstage

Conclusion - Swiftgron is on but completely underground.  Dianna is blogging and tweeting romantic things about missing girls, Taylor’s interests, and secret love, all while watching Taylor perform at the Grammys and encouraging others to tune in.  Something weird happened with the inside source at Glee tweet but who knows what.  Dianna seems a bit restless and emo while Taylor leaves to go on tour.

Click here to keep reading!

[cptnbvcks]

Javi being tired and already grumpy early in the morning so you make him coffee and help him with his tie and he already feels better

sunlight

words: 1.5k

summary: while getting ready for the first day back after being promoted, the weight of the job sets in. 

warnings: literally some character-study level angst and a tease of a blowjob, for the sluts. 

a/n: idk where this came from but i hurt my own feelings a lil bit aha

Javier has always been a late riser. 

A product of the job, you suppose. The late nights that keep him at the Embassy, and the later nights that keep him restless when he comes home to you. It’s been worse these days — those endless nights that drag into heavy mornings. 

You do your best, as helpless and meaningless as it feels when you wrap your arms around his back and press your cheek to his bare shoulder and listen to the hard and steady ba-bump, ba-bump of a heart that carries more than he ever dares to admit.  

He softens for you there, but the mornings never come any easier. 

So of course you know that something’s wrong when you wake to find your arm stretched emptily across the right side of Javier’s bed. The sleep disappears from your eyes as you sit up quickly enough that the world tips on its axis and your heart hammers up to your throat while your ears immediately ring with panic — did he come home last night? 

The names and the faces and the scenarios run dizzyingly through your head — Carrillo’s wife, crying into your arms at the funeral that Javi wasn’t at; Connie’s brave face adamantly telling you that Murphy was coming home, the baby crying endlessly on her chest. 

The fear blinds you to the watch that still sits, ticking steadily on his bedside table, or the DEA ID wallet that lays discarded and flopped open with its gold badge catching the morning sun. 

It’s the movement in the open bathroom door that rights the room, that weakens your muscles and lets you breathe again.

Alright, maybe mornings don’t come any easier for you either. A product of his job, you suppose. 

Javier doesn’t hear when you pad across the bedroom floor, his gaze distracted as he draws the length of a patterned tie around the collar of his meticulously ironed shirt. 

You reckon he must not have slept at all because that shirt had been hanging on the closet door with the intent of being ironed while Javier was still resting. You had wanted it to be freshly pressed and starched for the big day today. 

“Need some help?” 

Javier’s head jumps up at the husky sound of your voice, catching your reflection in the mirror as you lean in the open doorway, an easy vision dressed in an old shirt of his. The hard furrow of his brows smooths into something almost boyish and wary but the frustration never leaves his shoulders. He drops his hands from the tie in defeat as you step forward.

“Never thought I’d be a suit kind of guy,” Javier murmurs as he reaches past you to grab the still burning cigarette he had set in the ashtray by the sink, pinching it between his fingers as he speaks around the strain of an inhale, “I feel like a dancing monkey like the rest of those assholes.” 

You smile inwardly at just the sound of his voice, your fingers working the knot of his tie. He speaks softly, every word dragging deep from his chest to his throat and you want him to talk to you forever. It’s a silly request, a menial thing to fixate on, but you know the quiet privilege of being able to hear him talk to you while the world he dwelled in made a fancy habit of creating widows and orphans. 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think you’ll be the most handsome monkey in the room,” you hum, glancing up at him through your lashes as you flatten his tie down his chest with a light tug. He scoffs softly, gives a shake of his head as he looks back at the mirror, and you can tell he’s not in the mood to uphold any banter. 

Today feels heavy. Heavier than others. 

Javier hides the fact that he can’t find the words to express himself behind the cigarette in his mouth. Words aren’t his strong suit, but you know this is easier when he talks. 

"Murphy called while you were out last night,” you offer quietly, dusting your hands over the front of his shirt before fixing his collar over the tie. You shift around to stand behind him, flattening his shirt and helping neaten the tuck of it where he hadn’t been able to fully reach as you continue, “Wanted to know how you were holding up — congratulate you on the promotion.”

You notice the tension of his shoulders shift beneath the thin material of the shirt, rolling back a little as he tilted his chin to his shoulder in the smallest expression of interest. You smile softy as you fix his pants back into place. 

“I think he’s starting to miss you.” 

Javier lets out a short laugh and you squeeze his shoulders gently. He taps out the ash of his cigarette and this time when he speaks, there’s less humour in his voice.  

“How’s Olivia?”

The question isn’t the one you expect. There’s something that underlies the unassuming question, in the way he says it, and you know if you pull this thread you may find yourself in some yearning part of Javier’s mind that even he is too afraid to acknowledge. 

You slide your hands down his shoulders, along his back and to his waist. When you speak, you find the same lingering tone in your voice as you had found in Javi’s, “Connie’s looking for kindergartens. She’s thinking to start next spring.” 

Javier makes a soft noise but doesn’t say anything else. He looks down at the sink and watches the ash melt grey pools into the water droplets. 

You know the fog that sits on his shoulders grows thicker the deeper this rabbit hole of Colombia goes. You know he’s standing in it alone now, head half under with no signs of the surface any time soon. 

You know he’s afraid of what he’ll be when he does find the sun again, when he’s got ten toes on solid ground and he doesn’t have to look at the rot again. You know he’s afraid that he’ll die in that hole and never see the sky again.

You know he feels it too. It’s why the mornings don’t come easy anymore.

Javier looks down at the feeling of your arms sliding around his waist, palms pressing softly against his tummy in an attempt to not wrinkle his clothes. He looks into the mirror again when you press your forehead to the space between his shoulder blades. 

Slowly, his fingers spread over the back of your palm as he covers your hand with his own. You can’t see his expression, but you feel the muscle of his back shift when he looks over his shoulder.

What can you say? You should say something. Something profound and succinct and so right that makes this whole thing easier. You want to push your comfort through his heart and tell him the sun is coming, and he deserves it — god, he deserves it. You want to buffer him from everything he faces when he walks out that door but all you can do is hold him here, now, and be thankful that you even have that much. 

You close your eyes and push away the idea that you may not have it — him — for always. 

A product of the job, you suppose.

You realize you might have been holding him for a little too long for this to pass as a meaningless hug when he speaks.

“I’m going to be late, baby,” Javier says and the words are gentle when they break whatever quiet reverie you had lost yourself in. 

“Just a little longer,” you breathe out, the words more desperate than you had meant them to sound. Your eyes close as you press your lips to his spine and notice the heady scent of his cologne that lingers in the material of his button down. 

Your fingers inch away from beneath his hand, slowly sliding down until you feel the cold press of his belt. The movement halts when Javier grasps your hand, holding its position there. 

“Baby.” 

The warning of his voice loses its edge when your lips trail lower, gentle and careful not to dampen his clothing. All Javier can feel is the warmth of your exhales and the easy pressure that descends until your knees hit the floor with a soft thud.

Javier only lets your hands go to turn around. 

There you sit, eyes brimming with something that extends beyond lust, beyond the simple desires that men like him take and leave like shots of whiskey on bar tops with the hopes of numbing the world at the end of the night. 

Let me take care of you, your eyes say, in every way I know how.

When you reach for his belt this time, he lets you. 

He watches you, gives you this moment, for just a little longer.

—

Tag List

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