i could not shake this from my head if i tried - thank you to @theghostofashton who talked vegas to death with me and then read over this at 7pm when i wrote this on a whim

It was an accident, is the thing.

Shane wasn't trying to make a point or hint at something, it kinda just…happened.

It had started with Ilya chasing Shane up the stairs of his house in Brossard, his laughter hot on Shane's heels. Shane didn't think he'd outrun Ilya, not really. Shane may be faster on the ice, but Ilya's legs are longer, and he usually catches Shane before he can ever get very far.

Tonight, though, Ilya lets Shane escape, and Shane collapses onto the bed with a smile, expecting Ilya's familiar weight pinning him to the bed to follow him. He waits about ten seconds before he pushes himself up onto his elbows, smile pulling into confusion as he sees Ilya leaning against the doorframe, sweats slung low on his hips. Somewhere between the living room and the bedroom, Ilya had lost his sweatshirt, and he's gloriously bare chested. Even in his confusion, Shane can't help but let his eyes roam the expanse of skin, heady with the knowledge he can now. That they aren't going to run out of time, that they get to have this. All the time. Whenever they want.

Ilya's smile grows into something more predatory, and his eyes drink in the long lines of Shane's body, stretched out across their bed, waiting for Ilya to come and take. Shane's expecting him to come join him any second, which is why he's so caught off guard when Ilya says, "I want to watch. Like I did in Vegas. Remember?"

And Shane's not proud of this, but Shane flinches. Just a little bit, but enough that Ilya catches it.

oh i know ALL about it. i need a buddie nde experience so so so badly.

thanks to @theghostofashton for the tag! i have been gone for a hot minute, but i've been writing! neha is very aware of how insane i've been driving myself with this fic <3

Ilya looks surprised at Shane's easy acceptance, "I was prepared to fight with you on this, Hollander, I can't lie. I have one more, then."

Shane smiles, "Hit me."

"You don't shut me out. Every thought, good, bad and everything in between, you tell me. I don't care if you resent me, hate me, want me dead. You tell me. I would rather you hate me and tell me than silently slip away until I have nothing left of you, sweetheart. You are too important to me - without you I have nothing." Ilya's eyes fill, tears spilling over and streaming down his tired face. He looks younger like this, scared and alone.

It hits Shane in the chest, how stressed and scared his husband is of this changing him, changing them. Shane leans forward, ignoring the twinge in his knee. Ilya leans forward, trying to stop Shane. Shane catches Ilya's face in his hands, forcing him to look him in the eyes, grounding Ilya to this moment with his touch. "Look at me, because I want you to hear me. I love you. I will love you far past hockey. My love for you is not tethered to this sport, to whether or not you or I are playing. I fell in love with you, off the ice. I could never resent you, Ilya. But, yes. I promise I will communicate every relevant thought and spiral to you." Shane smiles, bumping their foreheads together, "I'm gonna be so talkative and open about my emotions that you're going to be sick of me."

Ilya's voice wobbles, "Never. I could never be sick of you."

Shane lightly pulls at Ilya, tugging him onto the bed, "Come, lie down with me."

Ilya resists a little, hesitating, "I don't want to hurt you, doctor said-"

"It's my right knee, and I'm asking you to lie down on my left. I'll be okay, and I know you'll be careful. Shut up and lie down, I know for a fact you did not get enough sleep."

This seems to satisfy Ilya, which truly belies how tired he actually is, and he kicks his sneakers off, crawling into the bed and under the thin blanket, resting his head on Shane's chest, over his heartbeat. Shane reclines the bed back slightly, giving Ilya a more comfortable angle. He wraps his arm around Ilya's shoulders, his other hand carding through Ilya's curls. Ilya melts against Shane, and Shane presses a kiss to his forehead. Ilya's asleep within a minute, body relaxing entirely, frown leaving his face. Shane just looks at him, smoothing his hand over his hair. He just relaxes, holding Ilya. He begins to doze off as well, warm and comfortable under his husband's touch. He's not sure how long he's asleep for when he wakes up to the door opening, his parents' steps light. He presses a finger to his lips, shushing his parents as soon as they come into sight.

thank you to @theghostofashton for being my beta!

◆ breathplay

◆ just smut yall

◆ 5.6k words

*taps mic* so it's been a while hasn't it? i have a lot going on right now (i'm two semesters away from having a bachelors!!) but i recently started writing again, and i decided to retcon agent reyes. soooo, presenting the new agent reyes!

“Do you have a safe house anywhere in London? The CIA built all my aliases that I use in London, so I don’t have a house in the country that isn’t already being surveilled.” Carlos pulls his hat lower on his face, his back to the corner of the coffee shop. TK looks around, scanning the shop with his own eyes before settling on Carlos. 

“Not in London, no. Interpol presence for me is high here, and it was never worth the risk. I have places to hide out for a few hours at a time, like this place, but nowhere to stay long term.”

Carlos sighs, “I might know a place, but we’re really playing with fire by using it. Pa – My field partner, when needed, also keeps a house in London. I know where it is and how to get in, but there is no guarantee that he will not sell us out the moment we trip his safehouse cameras. We’re completely at his mercy – he maintains this outside the purview of the CIA.”

TK scoffs, a small, ugly thing, “Just gotta ask, to clear something up, what’s the name of your field partner?”

Carlos stays silent, not meeting TK’s eyes and taking a sip of the now lukewarm coffee sitting in front of him.

“Right, that’s what I thought. This is really just a one-way street, isn’t it? You keep gleaning information from me, whether it’s about my life or about my kills or the people I work with, but you won’t even give me the name of the guy whose discretion our lives depend on. Great, Carlos, just great. Glad we cleared that shit up.”

Carlos sets his mug down harsher than he intended, coffee sloshing over the side of the mug and forming a ring around the mug. TK fixates on the ring, not looking at Carlos. “That’s because your shit is what got us into this mess in the first fucking place! I was supposed to be in and out, and then you said my stupid fucking words, and then got me fucking red noticed by aligning me with people that you got into bed with. So yeah, TK, you don’t know anything about my life. I have people to protect, and you are not going to fucking shame me for it.”

TK starts saying something, but Carlos is tuning him out, seeing three men enter the coffee shop and split, sitting at Carlos’s 10, 12, and 3. “Shut up, and laugh at something I said.”

“What?” TK looks at him.

“I’m saying something hilarious, so laugh and grab my hand.” Carlos says with a smile on his face, leaving his hand face up on the table.

TK complies, laughing and intertwining their fingers together, leaving a smile on his face. “Carlos, what the fuck is going on?”

“There’s three men, one at our 10, one at your six, and one at our three. Standard threat elimination for MI6, they’re really getting sloppy now.” Carlos leans in, nudging the top of TK’s hat with his own, as if he’s going to kiss him. “PDA makes people wildly uncomfortable, no one’s looking at us now. That group of eight is getting ready to leave, leave a ten bill on the table and grab your backpack.”

Carlos leans back, letting TK finish what Carlos told him to do. As TK stands up and swings his backpack over his shoulder, Carlos says one more thing. “Lean down and kiss me, grab my hand, and walk out with me behind that group.”

okay, so no pressure tagging @theghostofashton, @paperstorm, @liminalmemories21, @heartstringsduet,

ddba does such a good job of capturing the essence of what foggy was to matt. every dialogue, every mannerism, every movement matt makes is permeated in this raw feeling of grief and loss.

watching frank and matt have it out over foggy and the rogue cops was so poignant and raw. he refuses to ever say foggy’s name, not even when he was talking about it with heather. the only time he says foggy’s name is to tell frank to keep his name out of his mouth.

charlie cox does such a good job of the little mannerisms that show just how consumed he is in the guilt and loss of foggy, and how he’s at war with himself over giving up the mantle. the ending of the episode where you see both fisk and matt slowly reverting back to their old ways as the tension ramps up is so intense to see, and i’m interested to see how muse plays out, as we’re entering the second half of the season.

hey y'all!! i know i've been gone a while, but i'd love to be back! i'm in my final year of uni and finally have some free time to breathe, so i'm working my way back to everything i left!!