Jeff wont do it hes a coward. Dubstep 4 lyf

[ ♛ ] —- - David stared back at Jeff, hard and determined. If this was the guy’s way of trying to force David to abandon him, he was playing a losing game. If there was one thing David hated more than losing, it was a bitter victory. If he was gonna get out of this in one piece, he’d be damned if he didn’t take everyone else with him. 

〝Jus’ do me a favor and shut up, alright? No one’s gettin’ left behind, ‘specially not you.〞

Having the artist trespass into their territory was a sight to behold. The man had come in covered in snow, slowly melting away as he lingered by the fire. At some point, he made his way upstairs and was staring at the mural on the wall.

The Legion watched him for a long moment, looking between the paint and the man inspecting it. 

Their approach was silent, legs bent into a partial crouch as they came near. A soft flicker of the lamplight catches on the front of their mask. Illuminates it.  

Before Jeff can touch the sacred art, they reach out with their hand and grab his. Dirty digits curl around the man’s larger hand and they pull it away from the wall. A silent plea to not touch it.

They stare up at him, arm outstretched while holding his hand as though they are keeping their distance. Wary of his motives of being here.

Without a word, the figure stands up straighter and shuffles closer. They pull Jeff’s hand closer to them in order to inspect it, turning his hand over back and forth between theirs. So much cleaner in comparison.

send a command ! // still accepting !

   Arguments sit coiled at the back of his throat. Breath ready to be wasted on the words that’ll never come. You don’t understand.

His fists clench and unclench. Nails pressing crescents into white palms. Filthy.

   “Fine.” He whispers. “Fine.”

Slumped against a tree, next to Jeff, Quentin doesn’t hate him, but in this moment, he resents him. Too dangerous. You don’t understand.

[ ♛ ] —- - David’s senses are on high alert when Jeff reacts in such a way, not realizing yet exactly what’s going on. He expects the killer to be around the corner, but instead he follows the other man’s gaze, upwards, and to-- Oh. So that’s what Jeff was swearing for. 

David would be lying if he said he was displeased with the current situation. Oh, he’s anything but displeased.

His eyes were set on the artist for some time now, endless affection pouring out of David every time Jeff drew near. He couldn’t pin point exactly when it happened that he was in love, but he was certain the feelings weren’t going any place, anytime soon. 

He thought about kissing Jeff quite often; sometimes short and fleeting, other times languid and drawn out. On the shoulder, on the lips, on the neck; anywhere and everywhere in-between. It made his face flush thinking about it right now, wanting so strongly to kiss him in all the different ways he’d imagined in his head. 

David wondered, briefly, if this is what teenagers felt, when explaining a crush. (He’d never had that opportunity; the chance to fall in love with someone being over before it started. Such was the plight of a troubled youth, following him well into adulthood.)

Still, he resisted the urge to press his lips to Jeff’s with every fiber of his being; opting instead to kiss him upon the cheekbone.