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

[rainy-days-and-nights]

In our 100000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

loop!!!

And here they come again....

[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

[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.

[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

[kennyomegasweave]

Get to Know Me

Tagged by @negrowhat.

Three Ships 1. Over: Team/Win I liked the 30 minutes we got in Until We Meet Again. The whole "be brave about it" scene got so many bitches and I was one of the bitches. I loved Between Us. The only complaints I had had nothing to do with those two. Also, unpopular opinion, but the subs translating "hia" to bro were amazing because I call my girlfriends dude, so it didn't even occur to me that it was weird Team was calling his boyfriend bro. I'm a Californian okay. That makes more sense to me than Win wanting his hookup to call him the same name his baby brother calls him and he calls his older brother. I don't even like daddy kink, no thank you to a brother kink, lol.

2. Not Airing, But Not Over: Palm/Nueng Listen. They're so hopelessly teenage. They're like 18 and are like "we ride together, we die together, bad boys for life." Palm got Nueng's name tattooed on him, got shot for Nueng, had his mom die due to Nueng's life, his father is in the wind cause of Nueng's life, and he's still like I love you more than anyone in this world baby. Nueng really isn't better. He was like you're officially debuting as my bodyguard so I'm gonna dress you in a slutty shirt and too tight pants since you're gonna be next to me and I want people to see my fine ass man *play Nikki Bella's "you can look but you can't touch"*. They both tried to break up with the other with dramatic goodbye notes and leaving in the night. That didn't work for either of them. Palm like owns a bar at the end? And Nueng is like still gonna take over an entire company, possibly mafia? Remember, they're like 18. It makes no sense, compels me though.

3. Currently Airing: Buck/Eddie Eddie legit said to Buck after a year of knowing him "I know you love [his son] the same as I do." And then after only like a year and a half of knowing him gave him custody of his son in the event of his death and when he finally told Buck that, like maybe two and a half years after knowing him, he was like "yeah I have family, but you love my kid more than anyone, you'd fight for him more." I don't think I need to say anything more. Oh, except I will mention the time Eddie was trapped in a mudslide well underground and Buck tried to DIG HIM OUT WITH HIS BARE HANDS until their captain stopped him because, you know, that wouldn't work and also get ahold of yourself Buck. I've lived in that moment ever since. "Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen, time went on for everyone else, she won't know it" and all that. It won't be canon cause I know my Ryan Murphy shows, but that won't stop me because they legit have a KID together.

First Ship Eric/Jack and Shawn/Angela from Boy Meets World I loved Eric/Jack together and wanted them together all the time. Even as a kid I was like "Rachael, babe, please, let them be with each other." Looking back, I know they were baby's first slash ship. Shawn/Angela were just perfect for each other and, to this day TO THIS DAY, I don't understand why they broke them up. It makes absolutely NO SENSE. Both of these ships are why I also don't acknowledge Girl Meets World at all. Because fuck that. Just fuck all that. Thank you.

I'm gonna do my first BL ship too because it's my post and I do what I want. Prem/Wad from SOTUS. Yes, I'm aware they weren't canon. And I will be FURIOUS until the day I die. Plus Wad just disappeared never to be spoken of again and I don't understand. I DON'T UNDERSTAND. Gunsmile was out here CAMPAIGNING for that ship. He would have done it! They would have made a good ship. They are the ship that should have been. I'm more angry about them not being an actual thing than I am about ToddBlack and, believe me, I am a full on clown about ToddBlack.

Last Song Serial Killer by Lana Del Rey. I will be mad as hell this was never officially released. It is in my Top 3 Lana songs.

Last Movie I haven't actually watched a movie in a really long time. So maybe it was Fair Haven months ago? I come back to that one a lot because it's not super angsty, but also not 100% fluff. It has the hint of religious trauma but even that's thrown off relatively easily cause he misses his bf that much, lol.

Currently Reading I just did a reread of The Long Walk by Stephen King. It's just sad. 100 boys are selected after volunteering to enter a yearly game in a weird alt America. They start walking at the Maine border and have to continue to walk until there's only one left alive. The winner gets anything he wants. They aren't allowed to stop for any reason. If they do stop, or fall under pace, they have three warnings and then they're shot. It's the worst because you know the entire time they're all doomed from the start, but you really hope somehow it won't end the way you've known it will end the whole time. Plus it's very fruity between two of the mains and that's like an acknowledged thing. That makes it even more devasting to me. It's one of my all time favorite books.

Currently Watching 9-1-1, Bed Friend, those are the only ones I can think of actively airing.

Currently Consuming Last night's grilled cheese.

Currently Craving Rice and an egg. Like cracking an egg on steaming rice? Perfection. I can taste it. Except I don't have any eggs. And like a cuddle buddy. I don’t cuddle but I want to, idk, lol.

Tagging: @ohnegroplease, @yourrescuemission

[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

[aceghosts]

Oh, The Reckoning Begins Chapter 5

Series Summary: Five years ago, Junior Deputy Blue Murphy disappeared with Joseph Seed at the final standoff, only to be found a year later in Dutch's bunker. Now, five years later from that final standoff, Blue Murphy and Hope County have moved on with their lives. However, new sinister forces threaten Blue's life, and they will have to rely on the man who started this all to survive: Joseph Seed.

Ch. 1| Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Rating: Mature

Warnings: I need to give a serious warning for trauma and guilt in this chapter. This also heavily and explicitly references events from FC5, including mentions of murder and torture. On the safe side, I'm also going to give a warning for manipulation and toxic relationships. This should cover everything, but please let me know if I should tag for anything else.

Words: 5,351 words.

Ships: Mentions of previous Junior Deputy/Joseph Seed, but this is a Junior Deputy/Joseph Seed Fic.

Author's Note: IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!!!! Blue and Joseph are finally interacting with each other, and Blue gets to let loose on him! I'm excited for this chapter, and I really hope everyone enjoys it! A huge thank you to @sstewyhosseini for taking a look over this chapter! I really appreciate your comments/reactions, and I can't thank you enough. (Also, if you're not following Mika, you should! Seriously, she is awesome!) Lastly, I don't make listening recommendations for chapters, but if you're interested, PVRIS' Thank You (Feat. Raye) is what I've had in the background on repeat while writing this chapter.

AO3

               Sharky clears his throat, disco music playing over the car stereo as Blue tears their gaze away from the window. Sitting in the front passenger seat, Blue finds Sharky focused on the road as he drives his Jeep towards the prison. When they called Special Agent Hawthorne, Blue could only think of one person they wanted beside them when they faced Joseph: Sharky Boshaw. Naturally, that also meant that Hurk joined them for the ride. Not that Blue minded. “You sure you, uh, don’t wanna turn around, Blue Jay? You don’t have to talk to Daddy Seed.”

              Blue smiles warmly at him, touched by Sharky’s concern. “I have to do this, Sharky. I promised Special Agent Hawthorne that I would talk to Joseph, and I intend to keep my promise.” They know Sharky is worried for a good reason. Sharky, along with a few others, saw firsthand how much being in the Bunker messed with Blue. He spent a lot of nights at Blue’s place, making sure they were going to be alright. On the first anniversary of their freedom, Sharky spent the whole week with Blue, distracting them from the memories of the Bunker. Like Boomer, Grace, and so many others, Blue owed Sharky a debt they could never repay.

              Sensing that the conversation needed a change, Hurk leans forward from the backseat, sagely glancing between Sharky and Blue. “We’re gonna be fine, y’all. This prison ain’t nuthin’; you should’ve seen some of the other prisons I’ve been in. Just follow my lead!” Blue frowns, raising an eyebrow. Well, that was concerning.

              Sharky shakes his head. “Just cuz you traveled all over the world doesn’t mean you know what’s gonna happen, cuz! What if we get shanked by some dude who made a knife out of a plastic spork?!”

              “You’ve been watchin too many of them scared straight reality TV prison shows, Sharky! If you gotta worry about anythin’, its prison riots…” As Hurk rambles on the dangers of prison, Blue tunes him and Sharky out, thinking of Joseph. What would Joseph’s reaction be to seeing Blue? He obviously wanted to see them, but Blue wondered why he wanted to see them. Why couldn’t Joseph just move along with his life the same way Blue was? Why did he want to drag them back to the past? “What do you think, Broba Fett?”

              Blue blinks, focusing back on the conversation. “Sorry, Hurk. What was that?”

              Hurk and Sharky share worried glances between each other before Hurk repeats his question. “Prison Riot or Shanking?”

              “Prison Riot, obviously. I mean, haven’t you watched movies or TV? Everything goes to shit! It makes me think of those Purge movies you forced me to watch.” They really hope Joseph isn’t about to start a prison riot while they’re talking with him.

              “Told ya!” Hurk punches Sharky’s shoulder playfully, continuing his ramble about prison riots. Sharky looks over at them with concern again. Blue knows they shouldn’t do this, but they can’t live with the blood on their hands. There’s too much blood on their hands already. They just had to help the FBI, and then, Joseph would be out of their life for good.

--

              An hour later, the trio arrives at the prison, making their way through security. As they walk through the metal detectors in the visitor center, a news report plays over the radio at the guard station, “The American Government is anticipating a drought in several states, adding to an already difficult crop season.” Besides the sound of the radio, everything is quiet and calm. Too calm for Blue’s liking.

              BEEP! The metal detector goes off, and Blue grins sheepishly at the Corrections Officer. They fish their lucky pocket knife out of their olive-green cargo pants, handing it to him. “Please keep that safe. It’s important to me.”

              “We’ll take care of it. You can retrieve it on the way out.” Blue nods, feeling naked without their lucky pocket knife. That knife has saved their life more times than they can count; they feel defenseless without it. Eventually, they make their way through security with Sharky and Hurk, thankfully getting into no major trouble.

              “Ranger Murphy.” Blue turns to find Special Agent Hawthorne approaching them. He holds out his hand for Blue to shake. “I can’t thank you enough for taking time to speak to Joseph Seed. You’re doing a great service for your country.”

              “No problem,” Blue takes his hand, shaking it, “You can just call me Blue by the way. My friends, Sharky and Hurk came with me.” They release his hand, motioning to Sharky and Hurk standing behind them. Blue feels odd to be in a prison, especially when it wasn’t a Resistance stronghold, housing their boss and allies.

              Special Agent Hawthorne turns to Sharky and Hurk, shaking hands with them both. “I am Special Agent Dylan Hawthorne. Thank you for accompanying Blue.”

              “Charlemagne Victor Boshaw IV,” Sharky introduces himself, puffing out his chest. If he notices Sharky’s attempt at intimidation, Special Agent Hawthorne doesn’t acknowledge it.  

              “You can call him, Sharky,” Blue adds.

              Hurk looks around the prison, taking in the sights around him. “Told you this would be a nicer prison, cuz. Most of the prisons I’ve been in smell like ass.”

              Special Agent Hawthorne raises an eyebrow, deeply concerned by Hurk’s statement. “You’ve been in prison before?”

              He nods. “Yeah, man, I’ve been in some real bad prisons,” Hurk shudders, haunted by what he saw, “some of the worst places I’ve ever been, and that includes bein’ at home when Daddy and Mom were gettin’ divorced.”

              Special Agent Hawthorne blinks, speechless at Hurk’s revelation. “We should prepare you to talk to Joseph Seed.” He motions for the trio to follow him, turning on his heel.

              The walk to see Joseph is a quiet, solemn affair. Blue shoves their hands in the pockets of their Bomber Jacket, the same one they were infamous for wearing while fighting Eden’s Gate. It was too late to turn around, right? Definitely. Or maybe, they could-. Sharky bumps their shoulder playfully, and Blue smiles at him warmly. He smiles back, a feeling of confidence rushing through Blue. They could do this; they could face Joseph.

              Special Agent Hawthorne opens the door, leading the three into another room. The other FBI Agent, already in the room, stands up from his metal folding chair, placing his Styrofoam coffee cup on the metal table. He approaches the group, holding out his hand for Blue to shake. “Special Agent Jack Mitchell.”

              “Jay Murphy, but you can just call me, Blue.” They take his hand, shaking it. Special Agent Mitchell is older than Hawthorne, but he radiates an easygoing confidence, partially setting Blue at ease. He’s certainly more laidback than Special Agent Hawthorne, who seems to be on alert 24/7.

              As he releases Blue’s hand, Special Agent Hawthorne introduces Sharky and Hurk. “These are Blue’s friends, Sharky and Hurk, who are here with them for moral support.”

              “You ready to talk to him,” Special Agent Mitchell asks, jerking his thumb back towards Joseph, “That guy is a real loose bag of screws.”

              Blue shifts uncomfortably at Special Agent Mitchell’s assessment of Joseph. It always felt wrong to call Joseph crazy, almost as if it was a way to let the system off the hook for failing him. Meanwhile, Sharky and Hurk laugh in agreement as Special Agent Hawthorne glares at his fellow agent. “Mitchell, we need to be professional. We don’t want to influence their views one way or the other.”

              He rolls his eyes. “Relax Hawthorne. They’ve already dealt with Seed.”

              “Yeah,” Sharky confirms, “We know how crazy Daddy Seed and his siblings were.”

              Special Agent Mitchell laughs as Special Agent Hawthorne pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “We should start briefing Blue on the proper protocol while talking with Mr. Seed.”

              They nod. “Right. What do I need to know?”

              “You’ll be talking to Mr. Seed alone.” The words are barely out of Special Agent Hawthorne’s mouth before Sharky and Hurk cut in.

              “No way!”

              “Nuh-uh!”

              Blue knows Sharky and Hurk are just looking out for them, but they feel frustrated, knowing that they have to do this alone. “I have to go in there alone. I’m going to be fine; please trust me.”

              “We do trust you-,” Sharky starts.

              “But we don’t trust him,” Hurk finishes.

              They smile comfortingly at Sharky and Hurk. “I know you don’t, but you can trust me. After all, they’re going to have safeguards to protect me, right?” Blue looks over at Special Agent Hawthorne, who nods.

              “The Correction Officers already searched Mr. Seed before taking him into the private visitation room. He should not have anything on his person to hurt you with. Although, we do recommend not touching him.”

              A shudder runs over Blue. “Definitely not touching him.”   

              “We are setting a time limit of 15 minutes, but if you have a good rapport with him, we may have you continue to talk to Mr. Seed past the 15 minute limit. You can also leave before those 15 minutes end if it gets too traumatic.” Special Agent Hawthorne explains.

              “Feel free to sit there silently, Blue. You don’t have to actually speak to him,” Special Agent Mitchell chimes in helpfully, “After your time is up, you and your friends are free to leave.”

              Special Agent Hawthorne looks at them seriously. “If Mr. Seed threatens you in any way, Mitchell and I will be there to protect you. We will be watching through the one-way window,” He points towards the large window, next to the door, “We will also be listening to your conversation. Mr. Seed will be cuffed to the table, which means he shouldn’t be able to touch you.”

              Blue doesn’t think Joseph will hurt them, or at least, he won’t hurt them intentionally. Love and Punishment always went hand in hand for Joseph. “Okay,” they take a deep breath, “I’m ready to go in.”

              “WAIT!” Sharky grabs their wrist tightly as Blue heads towards the solid metal door. “Please, don’t do this, Blue Jay. You don’t owe him anything.”

              Blue pulls their wrist out of Sharky’s hand. “Yeah, I do have to face him, Sharky. I have to face him, put an end to this.” Somehow, they feel a sense of finality, the sense that Blue is at a crossroads, and they won’t be able to undo their choice. Hell, it kinda felt like the final battle, the showdown at the small Church where all this started.

--

              Blue opens the door, shivering as they step into the cold, sterile room. The door closes behind them with a solid thunk, and Joseph’s head snaps up, cold blue eyes settling on Blue. Their chest tightens, Blue struggling to breathe. Long dormant emotions bubble up to the surface. Panic. Wrath. Guilt. Love. Their feelings towards Joseph were a complicated web, with too many strings that could not be untangled. A part of Blue longs to turn toward the door, bang, and scream to be let out. But they know what they’re here for. Eli. Virgil. Marshal Burke. John. Jacob. Faith. Abigail. Arthur. Phil. Repeating the names of the dead in their head over like a mantra, Blue heads towards the metallic chair, their eyes never leaving Joseph.

              Prison had not been kind to Joseph Seed; Blue doubts it was kind to anyone. They feel fucking miserable in this room with its sickly pale, yellow walls, thick concrete floor, and ice-cold table. Joseph’s hair is pulled back in his usual bun, sporting more gray hairs than the last time they saw him. His beard also conveys more gray hairs, slightly shorter than the last time. Dark circles under his eyes give him the appearance of two black eyes, and there are more lines on his face, looking wearier than ever. Pulling out the chair, Blue takes a seat, shoving their hands in their jacket pockets. Joseph watches them expectantly as if he thinks Blue will talk first. No fucking way.

              After what seems like an eternity, Joseph speaks, “Blue Jay-.”

              “DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Blue snaps harshly, lips pulled back in a snarl. “You don’t get to call me that. Not after the goddamn shit you put me through.”

              A brief flash of hurt appears on his face, but Joseph quickly composes himself. “I see, Blue,” He pauses, waiting to see if Blue will even allow him to call them that, “I did not think you would come. For so long, you had no interest in seeing me. Even now, in front of me, I scarcely believe you are real.” Joseph lets out a disbelieving laugh, reaching for Blue. His hands are stopped by the cuffs, frowning at the hindrance.

              God, what a miserable fucking place. They know Joseph wants them to talk about why they didn’t visit them, and plant doubts in their head about those just trying to help them. Blue won’t let themself be manipulated by Joseph. Instead, they focus on a safer topic. “How’s prison?”

              Joseph looks disappointed but seizes the chance to speak anyway. He always did love the sound of his voice. “Prison is…,” Joseph trails off momentarily, searching for the right words, “difficult. Prison is not a place that uplifts sinners and helps them achieve redemption. It is a place meant to break them, to set them in their wicked ways. I am able to help some of the lost children within these walls, but many will not listen. I continue to write, but it is difficult to get writing supplies.” He reaches for them again, the handcuffs stopping him once more. Blue flinches, out of instinct more than fear. He looks disappointed by their reaction as if Blue should know better. “I have no intention of hurting you. I miss you, Blue. I truly do. It hurt that you never came to see me. It hurts even more to know that you only came to see me out of obligation.”

              “And what obligation would that be Joseph?” They feel wrath starting to simmer under their skin, the scar on their chest itching faintly.

              His blue eyes stare into Blue, looking right into their soul. Joseph had a gift for manipulating people, always seeing past the façade. Their muscles tense, screaming for Blue to run, to get the hell away. Instead, they stare back, refusing to let Joseph win. “Tell me about them.”

              They raise an eyebrow. “About whom?”

              “The victims. I know you, Blue. Special Agent Hawthorne would not have been able to get you to come here without putting a face to the suffering.”

              Wrath swells within, clawing to break free. Swallowing their wrath, Blue glares at him. “At least, I’m trying to help people. You’re just rotting in a jail cell.” They sound bitter as they lash out at Joseph. “Besides, what would you know about why I wanna help people?”

              He smiles softly, and Blue realizes they might have fucked up. It’s too late to take back those words, no matter how much they want to. “Oh, Blue. I knew it from the moment I met you, from the moment you arrested me in my Church. I knew you could not see the suffering of others and turn a blind eye. You saw the suffering of Hope County, and you knew you had to help in your own misguided way. You and I are alike in that regard; we always felt the pain of others too deeply.” Joseph pauses, his face turning pensive. “Yet, we have different ways of helping. I tried to show Hope County the light, the love of the Father’s embrace. You played their hero, Hope County’s Knight in Shining Armor. You wanted to save them, the same way you wish someone would have saved you and your mother,” He smiles at them tenderly again, “I know you are only trying to help. Please Blue, tell me about them. Let me shoulder part of that burden.”

              What kind of monster could look away after seeing all the shit that Eden’s Gate put Hope County through? What did Joseph expect from them? For Blue to run? It was only after being in the Bunker with him that they realized what Joseph wanted them to do. He wanted Blue to play their part, to bring the reckoning he saw come to life. Of course, he probably didn’t see the deaths of his siblings in that plan. Fuck that. If Joseph wanted to know why Blue was here, Blue would tell him. They would tell him all the goddamn gory details. “You wanna know about them, Joseph? Fine, we can do that.”

              “I do want to know about them, Blue. As I said, you do not have to bear this pain alone.”

              Blue lets out a bitter laugh. “Famous last words, Joseph. Fine, let’s talk about Abigail Carter. She was an investigative journalist, trying to expose your followers. Instead, she ends up at the bottom of a fucking cave. And you wanna know the best part, Joseph?” He raises an eyebrow, sensing where they might be going. “She looked like fucking Faith,” they continue, their words sharp and biting, “Guess your followers learned a fucking thing or two. Ain’t the first time that you left a Faith at the bottom of a cave?”

              “Blue.” They hear the edge to his tone, the disapproving Father tone. Too bad for Joseph he can’t do anything about it.

              They charge ahead. “What? Your followers picking up the wrong message? Too bad, Joseph. You should’ve stopped that a long time ago. You know, I still feel guilt for killing Faith. Do you feel guilty about leading her like a lamb to the slaughter?”

              Joseph regards them coldly, his eyes narrowed. “I see you’ve given into Wrath again. Besides, you should not talk about things that you know nothing of. I loved Faith; She was the most perfect of all my Faiths. I did not kill her. Perhaps, you should take a look at the blood on your own hands.”

              “I’m perfectly fucking aware of what I’m guilty of, Joseph. I just don’t think that you understand your role in her death either.” They swallow, getting back on track. “The next person your followers killed is a kid named Phil Santiago. He was the kind of guy who always did right by the people in his life. Couldn’t stop himself from helping others. Well, he just had to pick up a pair of hitchhikers, who just happen to be your followers, and…”

              They trail off, remembering the vibrant way Phil smiled in his photos, so full of life and happiness. Yet, he was the one missing, probably six feet beneath the ground. “Phil sounds like a good man. The world is a darker place for his loss,” Joseph tilts his head, still watching them carefully, “Phil and Abigail are not the only reason you are here.”

              Blue nods. “The final one is a farmer named Arthur Wilson. He was killed by some of your followers in a cornfield. Can’t imagine why they would want to hurt some farmer.”

              His eyes narrow, speaking softly. “Does Arthur Wilson remind you of your Grandfather, Blue? I remember you telling me in the Bunker that your Grandfather was a rancher.”

              Closing their eyes, Blue thinks of their Grandpa. He died several years before Blue moved to Hope County, but he had been their hero, the kind of person Blue aspired to be. Kind, determined, and honest, Grandpa had shown them that the world wasn’t a cruel place. He showed Blue that despite the terrible shit you go through, you can always choose to be a better person, to be a kinder person. They didn’t know Arthur Wilson, but something about him reminded Blue of their Grandpa. Blue nods, admitting the truth. “Yeah. Yeah, he does.”

              Joseph seizes on this, finally finding a real crack in their armor. “Do you think your Grandfather is proud of you, Blue? Do you think he would be proud of you being here with me?”

              Glaring at Joseph, Blue responds, “I know Grandpa would be proud of me trying to help these people. You have the chance to help them too, Joseph. I know you care for your people. This new guy is going to get them hurt. By helping the FBI, you can avoid your followers getting hurt.”

              “And for what? For my children to be arrested?”

              “I don’t know. I’d rather have the people I love alive rather than dead.”

              The room quiets, the two staring at each other silently. After a few moments, Joseph’s face softens, letting out a sigh. Blue feels themself relax, sliding their hands out of their jacket pockets. “I did not mean for our reunion to go this way. I only wanted to understand why you are here.”

              “It’s fine.” It isn’t. It will never be fine again.

              “I hope that when I get out of prison, you and I will be able to see each other again.” Blue snorts in derision; Hurk Drubman Sr. had a better chance of getting elected than Joseph did getting out of prison. “I am telling you the truth, Blue. We are family. The Voice has told me that you and I will walk through the Gates of Eden together. You know this to be true.”

              Blue snaps, their wrath fully kicking in. “WE ARE NOT A FAMILY!” They holler, standing up and slamming their hands down on the metal table. Blue’s heart beats loudly in their ears, the world narrowing around them. It scares Blue how good it feels to be absolutely fucking wrathful again. Meanwhile, Joseph shrinks back in his chair, hands still chained to the table. His blue eyes are wide, absolutely fucking terrified. Blue only remembers Joseph being that scared of them once.

--

              Joseph is on the ground before them, trembling hands raised in self-defense. Around the pair, the bliss storm swirls, nausea rising in Blue’s stomach. Blue holds their shotgun up, the butt of it pointed towards Joseph. Wrath overwhelms Blue as they stare down at Joseph, panting heavily. They want to bring down the butt of the shotgun on his face, bashing it in till Joseph’s face is nothing more than a bloody pulp. They want to tear him from limb to limb, bathing in his blood. It’s what he deserves after all the hell that he put Hope County through, for all the hell he put Blue through. 

              Sniveling, Joseph cries, “Please Blue! Don’t do this!” His blue eyes are wide with fear, tears streaming down his cheeks. His yellow aviators are broken, the right lens missing, and the left lens cracked. Both his eyes are already starting to turn black and blue along with other bruises forming on his face. Joseph looks frightened of Blue, absolutely fucking terrified. Somewhere, deep inside Blue, a tiny voice tells them they don’t have to kill him, that this isn’t Blue. For a second, they start to lower the shotgun, listening to the tiny voice. But the Wrath wins. It quiets the tiny voice, coursing through Blue’s veins. They raise the shotgun again, preparing to slam it down in his face.

              They never do.

--

              Joseph looks behind Blue, obviously towards the windows. Blue hopes Special Agents Hawthorne and Mitchell don’t intervene. Now that they are pissed off, Blue is itching to give Joseph a goddamn piece of their mind. Joseph’s gaze returns to them, swallowing nervously. “You and I are a family, Blue. Our time in the Bunker has shown us-.”

           Blue cuts him off, fury blazing in their eyes. “FAMILY?! After everything you did to me, you still want to insist we’re family?! After what you did to my friends? After murdering people I cared about? After torturing people I loved? After torturing me? After brainwashing me? After making me think that you loved me,” Tears burn at the corner of their eyes, running down Blue’s cheeks as they draw a shaky breath, “After you trapped me in that Bunker for a year? After letting me fall in love with you? What kind of fucked up family does that to each other? Why would you do that to me, Joseph? I thought…I thought…” Blue can’t bring themself to say those words, wiping at their eyes with the cuff of their jacket sleeve.

              His mouth hangs slightly open, the full weight of Blue’s words bearing down on him. “Blue, I wanted to save you like everyone else. I wanted to show you the path, the Father’s loving embrace. My feelings for you were never an act. I have always loved you; I still do. Everything I did, I did because I cared.”

              They laugh bitterly, shaking their head. “No, you don’t get to say that. What you did to me didn’t fucking save me, Joseph; it fucked me up. I can’t sleep without having nightmares. Eli, Vigil, and Marshal Burke haunt me in my nightmares. Jacob, John, and Faith haunt me in my nightmares. You haunt me in my nightmares. I’m paranoid, always looking over my shoulder like I’m in a fucking warzone. I’m terrified that your followers might come back for me and finish the job. I struggle to trust people because I’m afraid that they’re going to be like you. I’m scared that Jacob’s programming will kick back in one day, and I’ll just go berserk and kill all the people I love,” Blue chokes back a sob, wiping at their eyes again, “You know, the worst part isn’t what you did to me, but it’s what you did to all the people I cared about. My friends treat me like I’m fragile, like they’re scared I’m gonna break. Some days, I wonder if they expect me to finally lose it and run back to you. My mom wonders what the hell happened to her baby, and it kills her that she can’t make this all better.” They think of their mom, remembering how she reacted to the sight of Blue’s scars.

--

              “Blue Jay, I wanted to check-.” Their mom opens the door to their room, stopping before Blue can pull on an oversized T-shirt over their tank top. After getting out of the Bunker a few weeks ago, Blue moved back with their mom and stepdad in Colorado. It was just temporary until Blue could function again. Until Blue could pretend that Joseph didn’t haunt their every waking second. 

              “Sorry mom, I was just changing shirts…” They trail off, as their mom’s eyes widen, hands coming up to cover her mouth. The WRATH scar is a nasty sight, red, angry letters scrawled deep and messily into their skin. Their mom steps forward with tears in her eyes. She never looks away from the WRATH scar, guilt bright in her warm, blue eyes. “Mom, it isn’t….”

           She uncovers her mouth. “Did he do that to you? That…That…” Their mom can’t say Joseph’s name. She just refers to him as that man, the words sounding like a curse. 

              Blue shakes their head. “No, mom. He didn’t do that to me; His brother is the one who did it.” Blue and their mom stand in silence as Blue watches tears roll down their mom’s cheeks. They fall into an old habit, shrugging off the pain and hurt like it’s nothing. “I’m okay, mom,” They lie, grabbing the t-shirt and pulling it on, “Go downstairs. I’ll join you in a few.”   

              Their mom frowns, her eyes finally meeting Blue’s. “Blue Jay, you don’t have to pretend-.”

              “I’m okay, mom. Really!” They plaster a smile on their face. Blue can do this, pretend that they’re still normal and not fucked up. Their mom’s shoulders drop as she realizes they won’t change their mind. She nods, leaving Blue alone in the silence of their room. Blue takes a deep breath, only realizing now that they’re shaking. Grabbing their hoodie, Blue pulls it on, heading out of their room. They walk down the familiar brown carpeted hall of the house that used to belong to their Grandpa but now belonged to their mom. As Blue reaches the top of the staircase, they hear the soft sounds of sobbing. Kneeling by the top of the staircase, out of sight, Blue looks down to find their mom on the couch with their stepdad. 

              “Shh..Shh..It’s alright, honey,” Blue’s stepdad drawls, rubbing their mom’s back as she sobs into his chest. 

              “You didn’t-You didn’t see it," She cries, an echoing sound of grief, “He carved up my Blue Jay, and now, they’re trying to pretend as if nothing happened. Why did he do it to my Blue Jay?” Another keening wail rings out, and Blue stands up. They hear their mom continue to cry. “Why did he do that to my Blue Jay? Why?”

              Wrath burns within them, and Blue turns, itching to give Joseph a piece of their mind. Their hands reach out, aiming to grab him by the shoulders and shake Joseph. “YOU-,” Blue snarls quietly, turning to berate Joseph. All they find is an empty hallway, no Joseph to be seen. It’s not the first time they’ve turned to say something to Joseph after emerging from the Bunker. They’re just used to seeing him there, always in the corner of their eye. He was a constant in their life, and now, he was gone.

              Guilt weighs heavily on Blue’s shoulders, a tired, empty feeling washing over them. They want to run down to their mom and tell her that this wasn’t her fault, that this wasn’t anyone’s fault. Instead, they walk back to their room, closing the door silently behind them. Blue gets into their bed, burying themself beneath the blankets. Looking at their nightstand, Blue catches sight of a framed photo, one of their Grandpa. It was the first time they managed to drag him hiking, their Grandpa smiling with Blue as the pair enjoyed the nature around them. Grabbing the photo, Blue pulls it close against their chest, muffling their cries into their pillow. “I wish you here, Grandpa,” they cry quietly into their pillow, “You would know what to do; You would know how to make this right.”

--

               Wiping their eyes, Blue stares at Joseph, determined to put him behind them once and for all. “I should hate you for all you’ve done to me, Joseph, but I can’t. You will always have a part of my heart. But I’m not going to take all the shit you throw at me under the guise of love and caring,” giving him a small, relieved smile, Blue continues, “I hope you have a good life, Joseph, just know that I want no part of it.”

              The door opens behind the pair, and Blue looks over their shoulder to see Special Agent Hawthorne in the doorway. He looks concerned for Blue as he clears his throat. “The fifteen minutes are up. If you would like, you can leave now, Blue.”

              They don’t look at Joseph as they turn away from the table. Heading towards the door, Blue takes a deep breath. Behind them, Joseph screams. “BLUE! DON’T WALK AWAY FROM ME!” They hear him sob, calling their name. “PLEASE COME BACK, BLUE! DON’T GO!”

              Special Agent Hawthorne allows them to step through the door, closing it afterward. The closed door muffles the sounds of Joseph’s desperate screaming. Glaring at Special Agent Hawthorne, Blue states firmly, “Don’t call me if you need him to talk.”

              “Hey, Blue Jay, are you-?” Sharky doesn’t finish as Blue crashes into him for a hug. They wrap their arms tightly around him, burying their face in Sharky’s sweatshirt. He smells like gasoline and smoke, familiar and comforting which is what they need. He instinctively wraps his arm around Blue, rubbing their back. Hurk joins the hug, sandwiching Blue between the two men. “It’s gonna be okay, Blue Jay.”

              “You’re gonna do all right, Amigo,” Hurk echoes.

              “I know,” Blue replies, a sudden weariness, and emptiness taking over them, “I just wanna get out of here.”  

[look-at-the-soul]

The Reward (Cillian Murphy x OC)

Summary: An oversight can change your life in a matter of seconds and it can lead you to lose a valuable member of your family. A lost dog in a new neighborhood. Endless hours of searching. A reward. It all lead them to find each other.

Cillian Murphy x OC

Parts: 4/7 more here

A/N: Scout is the star of this story, because I love dogs. A/N 2: This is my first Cillian Murphy fic, hope you like it! If you want me to tag you, just let me know :) your comments & feedback is appreciated ♥️

Notes: super blurry picture, wish we could have more casuals like this, so I’m adding another one.

“For what? To take a chance to being left at the altar one more time? Once was enough.” She tried to make it sound casual. 

She learned her lesson and moved on. Now, she only focused on her work, it was her whole life, her safe place. Safer than being close to a man again. 

“He was young and stupid.” Chad tried to reason with her. “Not everyone is a cheater.” 

“Marissa and Damien were exactly my age, and trust me, they both knew what they were doing.” She handed the approved menu to the chef, and started walking to her office. “The problem is that they couldn’t respect her best friend’s man and his girlfriend’s best friend.” 

Marissa, Debbie and Liv were best friends since high school, they did everything together shopping, sleep overs, travel, shared their clothes and shoes. But when Liv was about to get married, Marissa did everything in her power to share the groom as well. Correction, she stole the groom. They always had the perfect alibi, never raised suspicious. They were together for months before the wedding until that day, he left Liv waiting at the church. And Marissa was nowhere to be seen, so it wasn’t really hard to put the story together. 

Now, years later it didn’t hurt anymore, but Liv didn’t want to go through any of that again, so it was easier to close her heart and keep going with her life. 

That’s why she preferred to stay away from any celebration of love at her restaurant, it was a reminder of something she wouldn’t have. 

“Doesn’t matter now.” She told Chad. 

“Of course, it matters, when was the last time you had a date?” Chad pressed. 

“I have a date this weekend remember? Downtown to see the new packages for the food to go. There’s your date.” She winked at him. 

“I’m talking about a real date, kisses, fireworks, romance, sex.” He whispered the last part. 

That made Liv laugh out loud. 

“You deserve to be happy.” He added softly. 

Touched by his worried expression she assured him: “I’m happy.” 

“Forget that, you deserve to share your happiness with a good man, that’s all I want for you, doesn’t matter if he is a pirate or walks slow.” 

“I’ve only met two good men in my life, my dad which my mum got him off the market and you, like my favorite uncle and your married too, so both of you aren’t an option for me.” 

“One day he’s going to walk thru that door and I will know as soon as I see him, so don’t be surprised if I suddenly say it’s him!” 

***  Scout’s being missing for four days now and it was so hard and difficult to lie to Aidan about it. Cillian came up with the idea of Scout being on vacation with other dogs, saying he was stressed with the moving, fortunately for him, the kid believed him so he now only kept asking him if today was last day of Scout’s trip. 

He walked around the street one of his friends mentioned that they saw a dog matching Scout’s description and asked every person he came across with, showed them pictures and handled them a flyer. But nobody seemed to have seen Scout. 

It was as if he just disappeared. 

His sister Sile sent him a picture someone shared, it was awfully blurry, someone else tried to catch a similar dog but they couldn’t. 

Scout might at the other side of the city by now. 

He stopped at a café and got scones and coffee for breakfast, it was time to go back home. 

“Something?” Asked his mum right after he got inside. 

“Nothing, a couple of people apparently saw him but couldn’t catch him.” He offered her a coffee. “I’m hoping I will get a call anytime.” 

Aidan appeared still in his dinosaur pajamas. 

“Why aren’t you ready for school yet?” His son disappeared laughing as Cillian tried to chase him. 

“I miss Scout.” He stated while Cillian helped with his uniform. It broke his heart to hear that. 

“I miss him too.” He moved around to get his belongings. “Shoes. There you go.” 

“Can we visit Scout later? 

“Nope, he’s on vacation remember?” Please stop the questions, he thought.

“When we go on vacation we take him too.” 

“They only allow dogs at that beach, you would have to walk in fours, bark and lick yourself. You know, it might be good, you would be quiet.” He joked. 

Aidan burst out laughing. 

Cillian loved his innocence. 

And with that Aidan promised to make a draw after school for Scout to give it to him when he was done with his holiday.  The rest of the morning, Cillian and his mother kept getting everything ready at the house, started at the kitchen since it was one of the places where he spent more time, then he went to his basement to take a call with his agent for a new role, while he was on the phone, he started printing more flyers. Again, running out of ink. 

“I’m sorry man, they said they wanted someone else.” His agent said over the phone. 

“It’s alright, it wasn’t meant to be.” He admitted. 

“I told them you are really good with voices.” 

“Hey Martin, it’s fine, you will find another casting soon.” 

He wanted that role, yes, but you can’t really force something like that. Some roles are for you and some other aren’t, he knew that well. 

“Thank you for calling.” 

Cillian took one of the flyers in his hands. He just hoped this wouldn’t be one of those times when you get one bad news after another. 

Should he double the reward? 

Before he knew it, Aidan got back from school with his grandma. Scout would be barking at the door until they finally meet for licks and kisses. For now, it was only his son and his parents while they ate, he tried to stay positive, to keep his hopes up, he really did. He just didn’t know for how long he would be able to keep going like this.

“I have to do something ok? Be good to Momma and do your homework while I’m gone.” He asked Aidan. 

“Can we go?” Aidan asked staring at his dad, then his grandma. 

“It’s going to be boring, why don’t you entertain Momma with a movie?” He kissed the top of his head and thanked his mum for helping him. 

“Call immediately if you find him.” She asked giving Cillian a hug. 

“Will do.” He left with his dad, allowing him to drive, they decided to get out of the neighborhood, Scout might be anywhere. 

“Perhaps we should try outside the neighborhood?” His dad suggested.

“Probably.” Cillian agreed.

Cillian was so glad to had his family help with Aidan and the search for Scout.

“I haven’t seen that girl you were dating.” His dad said after driving in silence for a while.

Cillian shook his head. “It’s over now, it’s been months actually… she didn’t like kids and you know how I feel about that, always wanted a big family.” He admitted.

“That would be nice.”

“How did you know Momma was the one?”

“This will sound like a cliché, but you just know, a woman like her simply stands out, they do something casual and simple, look extraordinary.” His dad smiled remembering the first time he saw his wife. “And oh, you won’t be able to get her out of your mind.”

Cillian looked outside the window thinking he would like to experience something like that, but it was hard. He was picky, plus he had Aidan, he couldn’t get involved with someone who wouldn’t accept his son. Being honest with himself, he liked a smart woman, one who could understand his sense of humor, funny, kind, he wanted deep talks… Maybe he was just asking for too much.

They decided to keep searching by foot so they got out of the car, after a few minutes, they came across a man walking with seven or eight dogs attached to his waist, leashes tangled.

“Excuse me, have you seen a lost dog around?” He showed him a picture.

“No… I only walk the neighbor’s dogs, but if I see anything I will let you know.” He said taking the flyer. “Have you checked at the shelter? They take the lost dogs over there.”

Cillian got pale.

“Thank you.” 

He wanted to go home now, felt hopeless.

Was it time to give up? Let Scout go?

“Listen to me, Scout is fine.” His dad tried to reassure him. “Don’t lose hope.”

“What if he is hurt?”

“Don’t let your mind go that way son.” His dad patted him on the shoulders. “You just need some faith.”

Cillian was so tired when they go back to the house an hour and a half later. They heard laughs coming from the kitchen and judging by the smell of the house, it looked like Momma and Aidan were baking.

He was about to join them when his phone started ringing. 

Tag list: @alreadybroken-ts  @runnning-outof-time​

[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

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

Man Made of Stone: Chapter Five

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Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x Reader (it gets complicated)

Summary: “We have to get him to a hospital.”

Rating: R

Warnings/notes: Canon-typical violence; death; implied death; swearing; smoking; alcohol consumption; inebriation; angst; some smooches; once again, I know nothing about medicine, I’m just doing my best; special shoutout to my mom who answered a bunch of my questions like a champ and only laughed at me once; I also don’t write action very often, so bear with me; once again, if you’d like to be added to the taglist please let me know, and if I missed you please let me know--I’m still having trouble tagging some people

Word Count: 2558

Infection.

A word you dreaded. A word you could barely get your lips around. Since Carrillo had been brought through your door his eyes had opened once, disoriented and searching, reminding you of the officer in the street. Now, his skin was on fire, his breathing rapid and shallow. It was the gunshot wound to his abdomen. You pulled Javier aside.

“We have to get him to a hospital,” you said. 

“What about antibiotics?” he asked. “Can you get some from the clinic?”

“They won’t do any good with that bullet still in there. He needs a surgeon.” Javier passed a hand over his face and shifted, looking at Trujillo and Murphy. 

“Okay, okay,” he said. He went over and spoke in hushed tones to Trujillo, and you turned your attention back to Carrillo. You pressed a damp cloth over his forehead and timed his rapid pulse. 

“Trujillo’s going to contact a small group of men from the search bloc and have them meet us here,” Javier said, joining you at your side. “We’ll take him to the nearest hospital while you and Murphy wait here. I’ll contact you once he’s safe.” 

“No,” you said, getting to your feet, “I’m going with you.” Javier sighed and you watched the lines appear between his eyebrows. He started to protest, but you interrupted him.

“I’m going,” you said, your tone final. Javier shifted his weight and shook his head, his lips disappearing for a moment as his jaw worked. Finally, he looked at you, his eyes tight, face stern.

“Fine, but you do whatever I say,” he said, pointing at you. You nodded and he walked away. 

You followed behind as Carrillo was carried down the stairs and out to the black Ford truck sitting at the curb. Four officers in plainclothes had arrived in another vehicle and they kept watch until the five of you were safely packed away. Your heart pounded in your ears as Javier passed through the dark streets, the other truck following close behind. Everything was too quiet, too still. Carrillo was propped between you and Trujillo in the backseat, his head on your shoulder, your arm around him. Your eyes never stopped moving. How could the world be so quiet? 

Shots shattered the night and you covered Carrillo’s body with your own, huddled awkwardly in the tight space. Javier swore and you peered over the back of your seat. The windshield of the tailing truck was splintered and the tires were shot out. Smoke billowed out from the hood. It had come to a stop several yards back, and the distance grew as Javier laid his foot on the gas. 

“Are any of them still alive?” you asked, even though you knew no one could answer. No one did because several gunshots sounded and the back window was gone. You heard Trujillo return fire. 

“Get us the fuck out of here, Javi,” Murphy said.

“What the fuck do you think I’m trying to do?” Javier growled through gritted teeth. You glanced up between the front seats and you could see the hospital in the distance just before Javier took a sharp left turn, careening down a narrow alley, knocking away a side mirror. As he neared the end of the alley, a motorcycle flew out in front of him and the rider littered the hood of the truck with bullet holes. Javier slammed on the brakes, throwing his arms up in front of his face, and ducked down as bullets peppered holes in the windshield. 

Everything was still then, everything quiet. 

“Everybody okay?” Javier asked, his voice ragged, breathless. Everyone responded. 

“What do we do now?” Murphy asked after a moment. Trujillo helped you get Carrillo into a sitting position. He was still alive, but he wouldn’t be for much longer if he didn’t get to the hospital. Javier looked back at you.

“If we don’t get him to the hospital he’s going to die,” you said. He sighed deeply and looked at Murphy, who shrugged. 

“They might think we’re dead,” he offered. Javier let out a dry chuckle and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Whatever,” you said. “Let me out.” Murphy looked from you to Trujillo to Javier. 

“Let me out!” you ordered. Murphy shoved open his door, shattered glass clinking on the ground. You hooked your arms under Carrillo’s and began hauling him out of the truck. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Javier asked. 

“I’m going to get him help. If that means dying I don’t give a fuck,” you said. Javier swore and got out of the truck, hesitating for a moment when his eyes fell on the bullet holes in his headrest. He came around to the other side, helping Murphy shoulder Carrillo. Trujillo stood at your side. 

“Take this,” Javier said, handing you his gun. “Trujillo will take point, you follow behind us, watch our backs. Do not hesitate, you understand?” You gave him a single nod. Trujillo led the four of you out of the alley and up the street, heading back towards the hospital. It was in sight again and you felt a glimmer of hope. The street you were on opened up to an intersection and as Trujillo came upon it, a man popped up from behind a car parked on the road running perpendicular to the one you were on. He fired off a shot at Trujillo and the man pressed himself up against the wall of the building on the corner, waving at the four of you to move over to the left. Trujillo returned fire, and as he did you saw another man weaving through the parked cars to the right. You heard a grunt as a shot connected with Trujillo’s opponent and you fired as the other man straightened to take aim, hitting him in his side. Javier looked over his shoulder at you and you raised your eyebrows at him, mouthing the word “go”. 

To your surprise, the street was clear the rest of the way to the hospital. When you arrived in the emergency room, Carrillo was whisked away and you were left standing there, gun in your hand, feeling lost. Trujillo called more search bloc members to meet him at the hospital to protect their Colonel, and when he hung up the phone he walked over to you, taking your hand in his.

“Muchas gracias...por todo,” he said. You nodded and stepped away, wanting to speak to a doctor. 

“We need to find someone who can talk to us about Carrillo,” you said to Javier. 

“They just got him in, it’s gonna take some time, you know that.” He carefully slid his gun out of your hand, returning it to the waistband of his jeans. “Just have a seat, relax.” You didn’t, couldn’t. Instead you went outside where you found Murphy smoking a cigarette. He offered you one and you took it, the both of you smoking in silence. 

“The infection developed into sepsis.” The doctor spoke in sharply accented English, and your heart collapsed at the words. You and Javier were sitting in his office, the door closed to the rest of the world. “We’ll need to operate, but we can’t do that safely until the infection is treated. Unfortunately, the sepsis has progressed rapidly, not to the point of shock, but he is in a dangerous place. These next twenty-four hours are going to be crucial.” He spoke calmly, in a reassuring tone, though his words were not reassuring. You tried to absorb it, his calmness, but instead you found the fear running away with you. 

“Excuse me,” you whispered, just managing to squeeze the words out of your rapidly tightening throat.  

You stumbled out of the emergency room, past two officers smoking by the entryway. You tried to catch your breath, but it was as if the more air you pulled in, the less went to your lungs, and you found yourself gasping. Your chin trembled and you covered your face with your hands as if they could keep you from falling apart. The weight of the knowledge that he could die before he even reached the operating table crushed your heart and you wanted more than anything to be numb. You should never have come here. You should have left when your husband died, instead of following some foolish notion that you could carry on the fight. A useless, stupid fight that had cost so many lives, destroyed so many people. 

The feeling of a hand on your shoulder was like a raw nerve being touched and you recoiled, turning to see that Javier had joined you. Your blood boiled at the sight of him.

“I told you,” you said, barely getting the words out. Your throat was tight and your eyelids brimmed with tears. “I told you to take him to a hospital! Why couldn’t you just listen to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Javier said. There was nothing else he could say.

“No, you don’t get to say a goddamn thing! I told you I couldn’t save him and you didn’t give a fuck! He could die tonight but what the fuck does that matter to you?” Javier’s jaw worked as you spoke and he passed his hand across his mouth, casting his eyes down to the pavement. His other hand rested on his hip. 

“Hey!” he snapped when you finished speaking, his tone making you flinch. You noticed then the tightness of his lips and the way his eyes glistened in the light from the parking lot, but you chose to hold on to your anger. 

“Fuck off, Javi,” you said, turning away and walking off into the night. “Do not follow me.” 

You didn’t go home. You were plagued by the image of the empty couch before you even saw it. Instead, you sat on a stool at the same bar you’d visited the other night with Javier and Murphy. There was no dancing that night, no figure watching you from the doorway. The only thing that was the same was the alcohol, and you kept it coming. The shot glasses and empty beer bottles piled up on the bar in front of you and you were slumped forward, your head planted firmly in your hand. You were far enough into the booze that emotions didn’t stick to your thoughts or memories, and you were humming “I Only Want to Be with You” while staring at the stack of empty shot glasses. 

“That song came out when I was eight years old,” you said to no one in particular. The bartender was cleaning glasses nearby, but if he heard you or understood you, he didn’t show it. You didn’t care. “My dad and I used to dance to it when it came on the radio. He loved music, listened to it all the time. He loved to dance, too. We played that song for the father-daughter dance at my wedding. That was the first time I ever saw him cry. The last was the day I got on a plane to come down here.” You knocked back another shot and added the empty glass to your structure. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your thumb to the bridge of your nose, humming the song again. The air shifted and someone sat down on the stool next to you. You lifted your head, seeing Javier out of the corner of your eye. He looked at you before placing money down on the bar, paying your tab. 

“It’s time to go,” he said softly. Javier got to his feet, but leaned towards you expectantly. 

“Thanks, but no,” you said, pushing the money back over to him. You nodded to the bartender, tapping the neck of your bottle. Javier said something to him in Spanish, and briefly flashed his badge. You thought you heard the words ‘cut off’. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you snapped over your shoulder. “I thought I told you not to follow me.” You got to your feet to face him, and that was a mistake. You put your hands on the bar to keep your balance.

“C’mon,” Javier said, holding his hand out for yours. “I’ll take you home.” 

“No.” You closed your eyes and shook your head slowly. “I can’t go back there.” Javier was standing with his hands on his hips while he waited for you to speak, but now he took his jacket off and walked over to you, wrapping it around your shoulders. 

“Then you won’t,” he said. “Come on, let’s go.” You let him lead you out of the bar, your legs feeling limp and shaky. He opened the car door for you and helped you in, making sure you were settled before getting in on the driver’s side. Wondering, you felt in the pockets of his jacket, finding a pack of cigarettes. You pulled two out and lit them, offering the second to him. 

“I’m sorry for what I said,” you whispered into the quiet dark of the car, watching Javier’s face catch the warm amber of the streetlights as he drove. Your eyes were heavy with exhaustion and the weight of the alcohol. “I know you care, of course you care. And you’re not responsible for any of this. It’s not your fault.” Javier didn’t say anything, and it was impossible to read his face, but something told you he didn’t believe it. 

Javier opened the door to his apartment and stepped aside to let you in. You went into the bathroom and splashed cool water on your face as he turned the lights on and tidied up a bit. 

“You can take the bed,” Javier said, gesturing to the bedroom. You looked in at the bed and remembered the joke you had made to Carrillo about staying with Javier, how you’d gotten him to smile. The memory was like a punch to your gut. Was that how things would be now? Would you be living in memories again? The thought made you feel sick. You needed to feel something else. You shrugged the jacket off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and you grabbed Javier by the collar of his shirt, pulling him into a kiss. He stumbled into you at the unexpected action, your back hitting the wall, and you let out a soft gasp against his lips. Your fingers worked quickly at the buttons of his light orange shirt, eager to find the skin underneath. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Javier said, closing his hands over yours. His forehead was pressed against yours while you both caught your breath. “We shouldn’t do this.” He pushed your hair back from your face and cupped your cheek in his hand. 

“Javi,” you whispered. You didn’t know what to say, all you knew was that you needed him close. Needed somebody close. You gripped his shoulders, fingers pressing into his skin, trying to keep him there.

“You’re drunk, you’re exhausted, I can’t take advantage of that.” He kissed your forehead. “You’ve been through hell tonight, you need to sleep.” He started to walk back toward the living room.

“I need to not be alone,” you said, finally finding the words. He stopped and looked back at you, his eyebrows turning up in the middle.

“You’re not,” Javier said.

Taglist: @cheesybadgers @massivecolorspygiant @vanthrefrigeration @funtasi @redwine-n-hiddles @sarahjkl82-blog @maharani-radha-writes @lettherebrelight @banga-sama @ajeff855 @madlyhowling @chiara-cannot-sleep @mcrmarvelloki @cassandras-nest @flowerchild-96 @harduy @chasingdreamer @anatanotegami @live--aloud​ @grogu-pascal @dodgerandevans

[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!

[mymadmedleyw]

Fic Writer Review

I was tagged by @dp-marvel94 (I am just saying this is my very first occassion to by tagged in a thing like that, so filling this made my day really, thank you!)

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

22 – wow, that sounds many…

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?  

206.997, and more than the half belongs under one idea – that’s creepy…

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?  

Oh, it’s many… once, I am into something, I have to write in that – surprisingly I am addicted to DP for nearly a year, and nothing else.

(But little bit of history, from the newest to the oldest: Danny Phantom, The Irregulars (that was really a short one), Guardians of Childhood/Rise of the Guardians (my very first finished multi-chaptered one was in that), Dark, Charmed (the old one, not the new series), Gravity Falls, Venom, Doctor Who, a crossover within Tangled: The Series and Milo Murphy’s Law, Death Note/Death Note: Another Note; and I had some ideas about a Rick and Morty and Gravity Falls crossover, and it seems I never uploaded here my concept about a not crossover Tangled: The Series idea, and either an independent one in Rick and Morty, hm… shame. Most of those are not finished. Okay, like 99% of it…)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Core (Danny Phantom), stand-alone, ~3k

What The Past Holds (Danny Phantom), wip, ~91k

Pitch’s Secret (Guardians of Childhood/Rise of the Guardians), finished, ~14k

We are not alone (Venom), really short one, ~1k

Phantom (Danny Phantom), stand-alone, ~2k

5. Which of your fic do you want more attention for?  

Definitely it’s WTPH. It’s my current work. The idea about it came in December, and since that, I am working on that constantly. At first, I had ideas for eight chapters, and nothing else. Now, it grew into this monstrosity: a side-line (Bonds Over Time), and a collection that contains the deleted scenes or ideas that appeared in my mind and could fit into the story (Bits Of The Past), and also an entirely finished concept for Vlad’s past (Certain Moment Of Time), that could be connected to it too.

I also put many headcanons in that, and ticks of characters, and parallels, and layers that I just love: like Vlad having a sister and some details about his family background, Dan having Vlad’s memories too, how the explosion in the Nasty Burger happened and how Dan turned out like that… some precious things, really, but I won’t elaborate much, in case of anyone wants to give a read to it. Overall, I tried to make the TUE-mess into a somewhat more reasonable logical mess – if I managed to do that at all. I don’t know I’m just like a mother with a new-born with it: look, it’s my child! I made it! I developed it! here, hold it! and love it too, as much as I do! (Sorry, I don’t know how that metaphor came…)

6. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Even if it’s a kudo, or a keysmash as a comment, I write back. I mean, if someone writes – literally anything – and spends time with it, I write them back too. (And my very bad habit, that sometimes, if the comment hits an interesting thought, I tend to explain the background behind that more, and accidentally spilling some things I shouldn’t yet... In many cases, it’s like a brainstorming, and then I use that idea. I mean as, for example many of @dp-marvel94’s comments on ff, made me to realise some things, and how then I fixed those forgotten parts made my story along with it much better – once, I will list them, and you’ll be surprised how long is that list, and how obvious things I forgot about entirely…)

7. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Okay, I don’t have many finished story – shame on me. So, I’ll count the shorts. I think it’s then Phantom. It rolls around the idea what if in Forever Phantom, Danny can’t change back to Phantom, and his parents blame Phantom for the disappearance of Danny, and they start chasing madly the ghosts, making them leave the human realm once and for all – which means, Danny has to go with them. It’s really a short fic, but I very like this idea, and it was my very first in this fandom. (I was watching DP that time, I mean, getting familiar with it, but this idea got stuck in my head as I watched that episode, so that was my introduction here. Also, I watched my very first DP episode that time, which means, less then a year ago, so, I am that newbie here…) I am not spilling the end of the story, but it doesn’t have a very happy end I could say.

8. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Uh, yes? I have a crossover within Tangled: The Series and Milo Murphy’s Law. It’s unfinished, but that time I thought Milo and Varian have the same vibe, including clumsiness. It was only a short idea that time, but it’s definitely worth once to continue or finish somehow. I have a crossover within Rick and Morty, and Gravity Falls. That is standing within my very big idea, but it’s halfway written on my original language and English and that’s like after how a certain trilogy end, but it has some mentioning of ideas I never finished, so yeah… it’s not even published anywhere. Maybe, once, I’ll decide what language I prefer for that, and translate the other part and then, hardly, but I’ll finish it some day... – or, never, it actually would be a very big bite if I try to imagine it.

9. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don’t remember to that. I mean, my main story (WTPH) kind of not everyone’s preference, ’cause of Dan, so that’s already divides the readers and I haven’t got all in all many comments yet on my stories (kudos are appreciated too, I am shy too to leave comments on fics, so don’t worry, I get it), so I think I haven’t got any. But I'd be curious to experience if someone reads one of my stories and leaves behind a comment that then criticizing it. I mean, I’d be open to learn what part is not fitting, or just too much. (I am surprised that no one ever mentioned my ’weird’ sentences. I mean for me those make sense, but those make sense for a native English person too? I’m always worried about that…)

10. Do you write smut? if so what kind?

Uh, yeah, I did. Not very proud of it, though I don’t have a heart to orphan that work. I mean, it belongs to me too. Sometimes I wonder to delete some of my works, but then I realise, no, that’s me, I won’t pretend where I came from, and shove into the dustbin my mad thoughts... All in all, my stories now, for a while, are much more family-friendly – if, anything within DP could be really counted as ‘family-friendly’…

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah, I was very proud of my story back then, called Metamorphosis (Death Note), and I had a crazy idea and tried to translate it. So now, the first chapter is out there both in English and both in my native language, but I got stuck at the second chapter. I couldn’t translate wisely and logically the title of it to give out the many meaning it has in English. And I once tried to translate California (Gravity Falls) to English, but that would be a hard work, so I left it behind – maybe once…

Over that I sometimes has a crazy idea to translate back and forth my stories, no, beyond that, I haven’t had a fic translated from anyone else. And I think I am the only masochist that it ever crosses my mind, I guess…

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, not really. I’d be curious to once do that – maybe, but I’m not sure...

(To tell the truth, I’d be worried about that. I’d be glad to do that once, but I am anxious if I could understand my co-writer, or not. I mean, do you have any idea that I have to give five reads to any longer comments to understand it? I understand those (and I really love getting those!), but I have to give many reads to make sure I understand those well, and then, making sure, I answer back right, and my sentences make sense. My fics have ’fancy’ words, and I love working in English, but sometimes it’s a curse it’s not my native one. So then, I’m constantly worried about interactions, if I receive well something, and if my sentences are understandable for others or not. So, in short, you can see my struggle here… same reason I don’t do Invisobang, but I am considering it...)

13. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I’m not very much a ship-type. But I count Danny and Sam, as a fix point. (Danny and Val was nice and I’d have been very glad to see them in more episodes, but let’s face it, that wouldn’t work, because both of them are too stubborn to choose their other life and if once, they would face with each other, knowing everything about the other, they’d remain allies or at most very good friends.) If, the question is, what are the ships in my head (but not necessarily just ‘romantic’) that I prefer to read, well, it’s Dan and Valerie. I love their dynamics, especially in Deliverance. I don’t know why I just love reading it. 

For other reasons I ship Dani and Valerie. Though I can’t write romance and stuff like that, but in one of my planned ideas they are dating - sort-of...

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Okay, there are many. Surely, it’s my Gravity Falls story, called California, but that’s a huge one, and the first one in a trilogy (plus some additional side-lines), and mainly in my head for years, so yeah… I think I won’t ever reasonably finish that as it should be finished. A Tale of Fords (Gravity Falls) could be count as one too. Oh, and Envision and ties (Doctor Who). Sad to say, but yeah, I am always saying, “maybe once”, but I am not sure when…

15. What are your writing strengths?

Okay, this is a funny thing, but I’ve realised I can’t deal with many characters at the same time. So, I think my strength are dialogues and interactions within two people. And I get into their thoughts, so I guess if I have to word it somehow: it’s character-studies then.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Can’t handle more than two people. No, seriously, somehow it always turns out, the third is unconscious, sleeping, leaves the room, and so on. I’ve just recognised it recently, and it was a hilarious recognition…

I am also bad at actions, like very very bad, I don’t even try that, because my brain just simple can’t come up with fight-scenes at all. I think I only can write character-studies, and nothing else.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Oh, man… does it count I am not a native English-user? So, technically I ‘always’ write dialogues in another language? But jokes aside, sometimes, I have ideas that the people use another language, and I am like “are you aware, you can’t even write English slang?”, so then, I gave up. Right now, though, I am planning to add ASL in one of my future ideas. I am wrecking my mind, how to do that nicely – but that’s only a forming plan, and dated for next year, currently, I am only collecting ideas for that.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?  

Does it count my very first fic was a fanfiction of one of my friend’s fanfiction in high school? She wrote a really good story – not shared anywhere, we were just giving each other the hand-written exercise book (oh, the old days…). If I remember well, it was a crossover within Supernatural and Queen of the Damned (the movie, not the book). I had no idea about Supernatural, but the story was good, but I was not satisfied with the end, and in secret I wrote another end for it, to myself. I’m not sure where is that anymore, but I clearly remember that was my very first written stuff, and that’s how my origin story began and how is I am here now.

(Oh, and once, I wrote a H2O fanfiction short story to my sister as a name-day present, in which she was a mermaid, discovering her powers during a holiday at a beach (we were at that time in Croatia in a family holiday, so the timing was fitting), and that was one of my very first fandoms to write in it too… God, I have no idea why I wrote it down, it just crossed my mind, and I remember I thought it was cute, I think she was eleven or twelve that time, so I am not sure she appreciated as much as I found it fun to write that…)

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?  

This is mean… anyway, currently it’s WTPH, for obvious reasons. But I am very proud how the Angst Week turned out (my work for that is called Certain Moment of Time). First of all, I doubted I would be able to write for every day, since I planned to do the whole DannyMay, but things turned out differently and I am still sad, I haven’t done many. But I did not just managed to write for all days, but all could be counted under one idea, and also each of the chapters could be read independently at the same time. It includes a little bit of background story about Vlad, about a rewritten time, his struggles at the hospital, things around Danny’s birth, how Danny managed to survive the Portal incident, how Vlad was informed about the Ghost Boy, and that actually Danny’s separation was just a ‘plan B’ that Vlad tried to avoid… it’s complicated to describe the many things in that, but when I feel WTPH an unescapable mess, and I am frustrated by the lack of proper words to finish the coming chapters, CMOT is my absolute favourite. And I love the whole idea about it. No, I’ll be honest, that’s my beloved so far (just because it’s finished). But I like so much too my idea about Dan and Dani in Bonds Over Time, how they try to live together a normal life… okay, let’s admit it, this question is mean, I seriously can’t tell, and I am thinking right now only my current ones…

20. What fic are you most proud of?  

Okay, this is mean too. I am proud of my old works as much that I always go back to them when I am in a nostalgic mode. (I haven’t read any of my old ones in ages, because I try to avoid distractions, and knowing myself, I’d start thinking about the continuation and never finishing my current works at all...)

I am proud of Pitch’s Secret, because that was my very first multi-chaptered one idea that I actually managed to finish. That in fact, gave me the courage to start working on a multi-chaptered DP one. (My original plan was to be brave and aim doing eight chapters, to top the five, and I would have been very proud of myself, but instead now it’s way longer than that original idea, and I seriously don’t know when it will end – twenty chapters maybe?)

I think, if I don’t include the previous question. (It’s the same, isn’t it?) I am very proud of the first chapter in my Doctor Who fic. That doesn’t tell anything about the plot or about anything, that just gives a very good atmospheric background. Every time I read that, it gives me shivers.

---

okay, I don’t know who to tag, anyone who feels like it, serve yourself, I am curious... :)

[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.

—

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