#I fucking hate this man’s hair I will probably rework it

[mylove-thresher]

the suffererrrrrrrrr

[xxsycamore]

Ok third one. I'm way too enthusiastic for this sorry💀

Napo + masturbation

what if i told you i have a fic about this in my drafts that is only written up to the actual masturbation part but i kind of scrapped it because i made him too lonely to the part where it looked sad just straight-up lonely and jorking it HAHAH i messed up the vibe and it needs reworking and i hate doing that ! but maybe someday.

Napoleon + masturbation

I'd say Napoleon isn't much of the regular jerking-off type. Although he listens and caters to his body's needs - he sleeps to his heart's content without much care, he cooks his own food whenever he feels like it, eats crepes to his heart's content, takes mind-clearing rides at any time he needs them. He's still getting used to having so much time for himself in his hands. He might find himself rushing to get done with his shower and have a sudden realization like wait, I can rub one out, I'm not hurrying for anywhere.

Would he take things slow and enjoy himself? Probably. I think he has those lazy moods where he'd be all in for edging himself and exploring sexual fantasies, but at the same time, he's also someone who can't sit still for longer periods of time. We know he finds quite a lot of activities to keep himself busy with, from helping with the chores at the mansion (tending to the stables too) to teaching kids at his and Isaac's école, to (probably daily) fencing exercises with Jean, to giving bodyguard gigs at balls. So I think he keeps the balance with being lazy in the mornings, claiming some time to appreciate this luxury that he now has. He's grumpy, being woken up by some resident who nudges his shoulder and then takes five steps back to shield themselves from his kissing habits. They shout something at him and leave, and Napoleon now has to fight the urge of going back to sleep, on his own.

A healthy young man such as him, it won't be surprising if his cock is awake long before sleep releases its grip on his mind... it makes him restless as he turns on his back, clicking his tongue at no one in particular, sleepy jade eyes opening to stare at the ceiling... soon his hand travels south to give his cock a firm tug, groaning at the contact. He releases his hold immediately though, letting it spring back against the skin of his belly. He's too sleepy to jerk off, too horny to go back to sleep. By the way yeah, I think he's in the habit of sleeping naked (there was one event story where MC entered his room while he was asleep and was all like "Why are you naked!" - maybe she refers to just his upper body though?) so it makes it easier for him to have a spontaneous morning jerking off. After a bit he turns on his side again, and the covers are grazing past his rock-hard cock juuust in the right way, so he rolls his hips lazily once, and then twice, and it suddenly becomes a real problem. So he says fuck it and pushes off the covers, loosely wrapping his fist around the head of his cock and fucking into it. He doesn't think of anyone in particular, just a nice warm mouth wrapped around his girth, cheeks hollowed out and tongue held out as he thrusts his hips into the willing warm and soft cavern. It's not long before he's cumming in his hand, letting out a satisfied moan and running the fingers of his other hand through his hair to move it out of his forehead, body temperature high and naked chest heaving. A nice cold shower is going to feel amazing for him afterward. The residents might think he becomes a different person once he's past his grumpy wake-up stage but they don't know the secret behind his content little smile.

He also jerks off after his sparring sessions, when the adrenaline is still racing in his blood and the hormones heighten his libido.

Reading erotica is not beyond him either, though he might have an issue with it being too far from what gets him going, with how modest yet dramatic it sounds. He'd enjoy pornographic material that is both deeply intimate and dirty at the same time.

So how does it change for him after he starts dating you? His sex drive is probably skyrocketing, and you can't be available to take care of his morning erections all the time so of course he still has to deal with it himself once in a while. It becomes more interesting now though, because the risk of someone re-entering his room because "are you STILL sleeping, Napoleon?" becomes a dangerously alluring chance of making you catch him, "accidentally". Though he's not without shame. If he expects you to walk on him, if he has that sort of control, it would be very turning-on for him. If he doesn't - if he's caught red-handed with a pair of your underwear or another item of yours... he's going to be embarrassed about it. Frowning, blushing, the sexy ridge of his eyebrows knit together when he's so obviously worked up by it, yet trying to be nonchalant... you should tease him about it. About not being able to wait until he has you later in the day or about being crazy for your scent, about how he must be wishing for your touch that would be able to get him off so, so much faster...

5/10 "Fine, I was touching myself to the thought of you. Are you just going to stand there and watch how hopeless I am? I didn't think you were so coldhearted. Come here... at least let me breathe the air around you. I'll be over with this before you know it, so... indulge me, won't you?"

-> (ALWAYS OPEN) send me a kink & I’ll give you a headcanon and rating for Napoleon!

🦶foot fetish 🥵breeding kink 🥕pregging 😈dom/sub 🍈breast kink ⛓bondage 🩸period kink 👄marking 🐺predator/prey 🏙public sex 🤗praise kink 👅 cunnilingus 🍌blowjobs (receiving) 🚪getting caught

[again-and-then]

Part two of my Hazbin Hotel redesign/edits

as usual, design commentary under the cut

Alastor: Hello Red Man, bane of my existence. there are many things about Alastor's design that work and many that don't. Personally, I'm not one for the full reworks some people prefer but I've got some notes. First of all, a darker color for his suit. More bloody serial killer, less strawberry pimp. glasses are better than a monocle. I did want to adopt the deer color pattern for the face, you know to make his deer symbolism a little more notable than fluffy ears and a pair of forks taped to his skull.

Niffty: I'll be honest, I think Niffty's design is fun. she was a delight to draw. my only change is the little spikes on her legs and elbows to further sell the cockroach theme. she's so adorable and quirky when she stabs people to death.

Angel Dust: My personal enemy. I put Angel in the category of 'Zoophobia era designs that Viv refuses to properly update'. I've never liked Angel's design, especially his head. kinda looks like a lima bean with hair taped to it. Also, Hell's most famous pornstar has practically no ass? Please bitch. I did my best to give him a slightly more believable figure and proportions (despite him still being 60% leg). spider floof because I've made my opinions on bowties clear.

Cherri Bomb: a solid design, but a bit too chaotic and quirky. Her usual look screams party girl, not chaotic arsonist anarchist. really, just needed a nice jacket and some color tweaks and she looks a thousand times more like a girl that regular fights and kills over territory.

Vox: Viv. Vivenne. Vivzy. Miss Pop. fucking... please, stop with the tiny hats and bowties. just... Why was Vox wearing a three piece suit with coattails, just to make a vague shark reference. the man is already a goddamn TV. you seriously want me to believe that Vox, the man who prides himself on pushing modernity and the man who works with the Fashion overlord that hates old fashioned outfits is going to have such a dated look? please. This was probably the most heavy lifting I did in the redesign department. kept the spirit of the look but just made it a touch more modern.

Velvette: This bitch perfect. no fucking notes. work it darling. just a personal preference, I think her best look was her first appearance in the show with the bang and ponytail, rather than the more common twintail&outfit combo.

[butterscotch-goat]

heyy haha hi twirls hair do you have any Elijah fun facts or perhaps Lucy

OOOOOH LET ME SEE WHAT I CAN COME UP WITH!! Thank you so so so so so much for asking aaaa <33

Alright!! Eli!!!!!

-their nose is naturally hooked, but it's bumpy and lopsided because it has been broken!! he has been in a fair share of fights, never starting them, but they've gotten pretty good at ending them all things considered

-i have given them the title "The Apostate" :]

-they would go to church with Martha because it would make Grace too existential and scared but Martha didn't like going anywhere alone, sooo

-he tried to teach Martha to read but gave up; Martha got too frustrated (she learns eventually, thanks to Beatrice!)

-they know how to sew! fixes his own clothes and stuff

-Grace offered to try and heal his foot before but he politely declined; it's a part of him that he's accepted

-Grace's trial and execution was the front page story for a hot minute, so he had to shout about his best friend's death and sell biased & inaccurate stories about it so he could get paid :"]

-occasionally refers to Martha as "Marty" (Beatrice parallel BEATRICE PARALLEL)

-after Martha disappeared they started learning piano. He didnt get far though because he couldn't stand going in the church (to use the piano), especially without Martha

-when Martha returns, the only thing she could bring back of Grace was a jar with her heart in it (since her body got Dissected as fuck, chopped up to study n stuff) and anytime Eli is over at Martha's house (Martha kept it on her windowsill (where else is she gonna put it lol)) he like,, greets Grace's heart? I used to do this with an urn, it's a thing I swear. he would greet her heart,, he'd say hi to Grace, idk man.

-He and Martha still celebrate Grace's birthday; they set her heart jar on a table in front of a pastry or something. They don't take it very seriously (they need some lighthearted moments in their life god let them joke about their trauma please)

-after The Plot, Eli often goes with Martha on her (every-other-year-ish) visits to Aster and Beatrice. Beatrice and him get along very well (because of course they do) while Aster kind of scares him, but it's all good :]

-this one doesn't happen anywhere near the plot, only happens when hes like an adult n stuff but I think it's funny so...Eli COULD NOT keep a straight face at his Lavender wedding with Martha. Martha was more composed but Eli was NOT helping her keep it together Lol. After the fact he makes fun of Martha for being a terrible kisser (THIS IS SILLY GUYS PLEASE IM BEING SILLY)

Lucy time!!!!! Silly little guy!!! Pathetic man!!!

I'm reaaallllyyy struggling with the whole Dawn rework (ask Sen and he'll tell you,, I'm struggling so bad) so I don't have much at the moment. BUT I'LL TELL YOU WHAT I DO HAVE!!

As of writing this, Lucy WILL be a lot more active in the plot!! He's looking to prove he's still a powerful demon, so he goes with Gene to hunt down Frappe (and Dawn by associatio). He does, in fact, suck at his job though, so if anything he probably slows them down,, but that's okay...

Uhhh random stuff GO!!

-his glasses were accidentally stepped on by Ronnette when she was trying to wake him up one time (he passed out on the floor) but Lucy would rather DIE than go to the optometrist again so he's dealing with a cracked frame right now

-Lucy hates Juno almost as much as he hates humans,, but like he's never gonna hate anyone as much as he hates humans so (sorry Dawn, he wants you to perish so bad)

-Lucy is so sure that he's a MASTER at blending in with humans. He is not. He and his garish purple vest, unkempt And uneven long ass hair, and a shirt that's either A. Probably Gene's and therefore too big for him, or B. His shirt that has an entire sleeve missing. He doesn't remember where he lost the sleeve but he hasn't gotten around to getting a new one yet BUT HE WILL SOON GUYS TRUST (it has been 5 decades at LEAST)

-as of writing this I think I'm gonna make it so demons can actually control/choose what their humanoid form looks like, and I think Ronnette would pick on Lucy a lot for making his humanoid form so scrawny.

Uhhh I don't have anything else,, here's some Eli doodles WEEE (featuring his section of a bunch of character profiles I impulsively made in my sketchbook with NO PLANNING WHATSOEVER???? WTF IS WRONG WITH ME)

[ambyandony]

shortcuts I took to make drawing the squatizi comic easier

Used a photo reference for the backgrounds (note: this actually made it harder, I couldn’t figure out which beach was in the picture I was looking at so I only had one angle)

(note 2: I didn’t trace the photo or anything but I did colour pick from it)

made Squalo’s towel fall off his shoulder because it looked awkward and it remains on the ground for the rest of the comic . That stupid fucking blue towel.

for fun I made it visibly do this like you can just see it slowly slide off

didn’t overline the background characters and made them all a solid colour cause fuckem

didnt even draw the background characters in one of the panels even though the lesbians probably still should’ve been visible . I just have to assume Squalo is in the exact position on the frame where they just aren’t visible behind him

there’s a rock in the background but I didn’t draw it at all when the camera angle was facing only tiziano because I fucking hate that rock

If I don’t like how something looks and it’s inconsequential to the overall panel and in a corner I just deform the panel so it’s covered. Cause fuckit

covered one of Squalo’s hands with Tiziano’s hair while they were hugging because it looked wonky and I redrew it too many times

accidentally drew Tiziano’s hair wrong in one panel. That wasn’t a shortcut I just fucked it up and by the time I realised I’d already coloured and shaded it and it sucks and I want to fix it

used speech bubbles to hide shit I didn’t like

used a grid to write most of the dialogue

chibified the boyfriends for 2 panels but that was more because the panels were very tiny.

I would say having Squalo’s arms covering his chest for the first half but that was intended and not a shortcut

One side of Tiziano’s hair was originally over his shoulder but it was very annoying so I scrapped it . Except for exactly one panel where I could not draw his neck/collarbone right in that exact area.

the other side IS partially on his shoulder but not fully. I just think it looks more elegant that way but it has the added benefit that I don’t have to think too hard about shading his neck . Thank fuck for men with long hair 🙌

Tiziano’s hair length is inconsistent because I was having trouble making it not look awkward in certain poses

not drawing the lips

Tiziano takes his stupid sunglasses off for exactly one panel because I could not make them look good and then he puts them back up on his forehead because he needed a free hand and had nowhere else to put them. He is not shown doing this

I save Squalo’s freckles till the last step. Squalo’s freckles go on when I’m done with everything else so I have GOT TO REMEMBER TO PUT THE FUCKING FRECKLES ON ITS GONNA BE SOOOO ANNOYING IF I POST HIM WITH NO FRECKLES

The background characters with speaking roles have the exact same hair and skin colour and I drew their faces simplified even when they’re visible up close for one panel because speaking roles or not they are still background characters. Even though I named them.

as an artistic choice I didn’t refine the lineart in the central panel of page 1 (inadvertently made it easier it was actually a choice for the aesthetic of the panel)

Didn’t try very hard to draw the back of Squalo’s hair.

things that did not make the comic easier

Adding extra panels . and reworking all the dialogue from the previous version because it was awkward

themed dialogue fonts

I HANDWRITE ALL THE DIALOGUE MYSELF ALL OF IT. AND I DECIDED TO FUCKING MAKE THE TITTLES ON THE IS AND JS CUSTOM FOR SQUALO AND TIZIANO. AMONG OTHER THINGS. HELP ME

drawing Squalo’s stupid nose broken

the last minute inclusion of the Portuguese Man O’ War

not knowing how to draw nipples

changing background character with speaking role #2’s swimsuit top and not knowing how to draw boobs

THOSE STUPID FUCKING SUNGLASSES

I draw Tiziano’s eyes so fucking detailed. Because he is beautiful

Emphasising Squalo’s musculature

not saving the base skin colour I used for Tiziano OR Squalo before I started shading

drawing them hugging. 3 1/2 times.

making this post instead of finishing it

[elliotteisnoire]

i hate having to rework all my character designs.

i made franciscos current design back in February because I was having art block and i couldn’t draw any of my characters because they were too complex. And now that I look at it, I don’t really like franciscos design that much :( it feels more like an ugly demo rather than something final. it also looks super simplified in comparison to my other characters and im sick and tired of convincing myself that it’s because he’s “built different metaphysically.”

i have a general gist of what i want him to look like, but idk what to do. i still like the spiked hair and the scars, but i think ive been drawing him too skinny and less robot-like. ive been really when it comes to designing his clothes, but im building a good pinterest board rn to get inspiration. i still like the baggy jeans, but ive been seeing a lot of karakuri tamashii jeans in my feed and i think they’re perfect for him (not so perfect for me when i have to draw them, but it’s whatever. maybe i’ll design the embroidery in its own thing and warp it whenever i need to show his legs.) ive also been seeing a lot of baggy t shirts with these japanese woodblock painting-esque designs on them and they match very well with the jeans. ive also been really lazy about accessorizing him, but i bet he wouldn’t mind a couple fun necklaces and bracelets. maybe some cool statement belts as well. with the clothes maybe i could incorporate some patchwork or some fun textures to but idk glfivofjfbrk

i drafted up some cool jeans for him, but idk if they look good enough

what’s REALLY bothering me is his face. i really want to go for a tbhk feel with the eyes, but i don’t know how to fit them on his face without it looking weird. the overall shape of his face is bothering me too. and his nose. and his mouth. deadass they’ve just been little curved lines over the past 8 months and while it’s really convenient for drawing him quickly, it’s really fucking boring. i need to find a better face shape to put him in.

besides Francisco, there are some characters that i have completely down, and there are some that i haven’t even designed yet.

I haven’t drawn Osi, Hoshiakari, Raymond, Heavens, Dr. Chambers, Constantine or Lilith in months (at least in full-body, so i gotta put together some fits for them.) I’ve never drawn Benjamin, Giovanni, Marco, Paisley, Ophelia, or Chloe in any final way. And for Garien, Cathi, and Klaudiana, it’s been literal YEARS and none of their old designs are acceptable. Really the only one that has a clear, solid final design is Mr. 404, and he’s just a king penguin with a big ass robe and some jewelry. im currently working on a Hoshiakari reference, but that’s more for anatomy and mapping her freckles. If I make it digital, maybe I’ll put some clothes on her, but I’ll probably have to make another pinterest board. AND I HAVE SO MANY HARD ASS CHARACTER DESIGNS THAT I CANT EVEN USE BECAUSE NONE OF MY CHARACTERS MATCH. HOW THE FUCK HAS IT BEEN ALMOST 3 YEARS OF DEVELOPMENT AND NONE OF MY CHARACTERS EXCEPT FOR THE BIG PENGUIN MAN HAVE FINAL DESIGNS.

to be fair i do have a pretty good idea for what some of them dress like, i just gotta actually put it together…

fuck. i need help. someone help me.

[sluttywonwoo]

take it off || k.mg x reader

Pairing: mob!mingyu x fem reader

Summary: as much as you hate to admit it, jealousy looks good on your fiancé 

Warnings: swearing, light smut (18+)

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n: reworked this old blurb originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

“Mingyu, slow down,” you said with a sigh, trying not to roll your eyes.

“What was he thinking?” Mingyu spat, not acknowledging what you had just said. He gripped the steering wheel even harder.

You watched as his knuckles began to turn white and rubbed his arm soothingly. “Baby, take a deep breath. Relax.”

He just shrugged you off and cursed at the car in front of him.

“Don’t fucking tell me to relax.”

“It’s not a big deal, Gyu.”

He actually turned his head towards you and looked at you this time. “You’re joking.”

You shrugged sheepishly. “I’ve had worse.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

You winced, knowing you’d probably made it worse and that Mingyu was likely now picturing the grimy hands of ill-intentioned strangers all over your body.

“I should have him killed,” he snarled.

To most, that threat would sound completely ridiculous or utterly insane, but your fiancé was the head of the Seoul mob-the South West branch anyway- and he was no stranger to violence. Having someone killed would be as easy as snapping his fingers.

You scoffed to call his bluff.

“You think I won’t?” he challenged and you groaned.

“You promised you were done with that.”

It’s true, one of the conditions of your engagement had been that Mingyu agree to put the more sinister side of his business to rest, and although you trusted him, in all honesty, you weren’t sure how well he was upholding his end of the deal.

“I’d make an exception.”

“Well don’t. I don’t want some poor guy’s blood on my hands.”

At that, the car screeched to a stop right in the middle of the freeway. The cars behind you honked and flashed their lights at Mingyu as they maneuvered to avoid a collision.

You huffed in frustration, wanting to bang your head against the dashboard. This was exactly why you didn’t like for Mingyu to drive himself: he pulled dangerous shit all the time like this. Literally, all of his other men had drivers who took them places and you desperately wished Mingyu would hire someone, but he insisted that it was safest if he was the one driving (yet here you were in the middle of the highway).

“You could’ve fucking killed us!” you shouted, more annoyed than anything.

Mingyu took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. But y/n, he’s not just some poor guy.”

“He was trying to get a rise out of you, Gyu. He fucking hates you, of course, he’d go after me, and he was drunk.”

Mingyu narrowed his eyes at you, foot still pressed firmly on the brake. “That’s not a fucking excuse, you of all people should know that. Why are you trying to defend him?”

“I’m not trying to defend him, I’m just saying he doesn’t deserve to die. Can we please just get home?”

Mingyu relented and put the car back into motion making you breathe a sigh of relief.

Even though he didn’t say anything else you could tell his mind was still going a thousand miles a minute. You watched him chew at his lip in silence and wondered what was going on in that beautiful head of his. Nothing good, you could be sure of that.

Mingyu’s mind was darker than most. Occupational hazard. He carried so much pain that you hadn’t known about when you first met him. He’d let you in slowly, keeping you at arm’s length for months, until he almost lost you. And then he knew he couldn’t keep things from you anymore. It was still a challenge to understand his thought process sometimes, but you liked it that way. How could a ruthless, power-hungry mobster also be the most loving, family-oriented person you’d ever met in your life? How could someone who dropped a grand on a dinner like it was nothing secretly rather spend one more night picnicking with crappy Chinese food on the bedroom floor in your old apartment? You couldn’t think of an answer, and you didn’t want to.

The guy at the bar tonight had been some rival of Mingyu’s. You hadn’t seen him before, but you could tell because when Mingyu got up to get the two of you more drinks he swooped in and laid it on heavy. He looped one arm around your waist and placed his other hand on your knee and began attempting to seduce you. Sure, you were uncomfortable but more than anything you were angry. And tired. Tired of being used as bait, something to get to Mingyu.

You didn’t want to make a scene so you listened to the asshole talk about how much better he’d treat you than Mingyu until your fiancé eventually returned with your drinks in hand, face beet red, eyes dark with anger.

The man, you never caught his name, left the bar with a broken nose. Mingyu left with bruised knuckles. You’d thought it would end at that, but of course, once Mingyu got started it was hard for him to stop. It was a gift in the bedroom, but a curse in the rest of your life.

Then, so softly you almost didn’t hear it, Mingyu broke the silence in the car and said “I know what he said to you,” and it all clicked.

Normally, a hand on your shoulder, thigh, ass was enough to set Mingyu off, but combine that with the filthy words he’d undoubtedly overheard spilling from the man’s lips… no wonder all he could see was red.

“Mingyu, I-“

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to start something.”

“Start something? Is that true? Or do you think he’s right?”

“No, of course not.”

“Do you think he can satisfy you better than I can?”

“Mingyu!”

“Well do you?”

You shook your head and rubbed your thighs together, fighting a shiver. As irritating as Mingyu’s jealousy could be, the effect it had on you was even more infuriating. The man could already turn you on without doing anything and whenever he started acting a little jealous it was game over for you. It was pathetic, really.

“Why the fuck did he even think it was okay to look at you, let alone touch you?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged finally settling in to play the game. “These big dudes with huge muscles just think they can have whoever they want.”

Mingyu whipped his head back towards you. “What did you say?”

You ignored him. “I mean he definitely wouldn’t be as good as you, but he could do some damage.” Mingyu was full-on glaring at you now, and you wanted to tell him to keep his eyes on the road, but you couldn’t give up so fast. “I mean, just one of his hands could probably wrap around my whole neck. Like they were giant, and you know what they say about guys with big hands-“

“Do you think this is funny?”

Any sane person wouldn’t even think about taunting Mingyu like this, not with his reputation, but you couldn’t be sane to be with someone like Mingyu anyway, and besides, you knew he was a big softie at heart.

“A little,” you admitted. “You look really hot right now.”

He really did. His hair was tousled with silver highlights from the moonlight streaming in through the windshield, his tan skin was flushed with adrenaline, and his white button-up was unbuttoned just a few times to show off his collarbone. You bit your lip. You were so fucking weak.

“That’s not going to work.”

“No?” You quirked an eyebrow and leaned over the console to see that he was already more than half hard in his dress pants. “Because it looks like it’s working.” You reached over and began to palm him through his trousers, smirking when he cursed and rolled his neck at the contact.

“Y/n, if I have to pull over, you’re not going to be able to walk for the next week.”

Oh no, that’d be horrible you thought to yourself and rolled your eyes. He had to know that’s what you secretly wanted, right? Right? Why were men so stupid?

Either way, you took your hand back and moved it up under the hem of your dress to where you were feeling a little desperate for some friction. You sighed deeply when you rubbed yourself over your panties, not even surprised at how wet you were.

“Fuck,” you hissed out and hiked your legs up onto the seat so you could give Mingyu a better view.

“Stop that.”

He said it so forcefully that you froze, fingers hovering over your panties, about to pull them to the side. Then you smiled.

“No.” You went ahead and did it anyway, slipping two fingers inside of yourself easily.

You weren’t one to defy Mingyu often, especially when it came to what he asked of you in the bedroom, but you knew how crazy it drove him and just couldn’t resist.

Mingyu groaned, trying and failing to maintain an angry expression. His eyes betrayed an absolutely sinful lust that made you want to melt and you wished more than anything he’d just pull the fucking car over.

“Fuck, Gyu,” you gasped, “I wish these were your fingers, you’re so good with your fingers.”

“Yeah? You sure you wish they’re my fingers? Not someone else’s?”

You shook your head vigorously. “Never. You’re the only one who knows how to make me cum that hard.”

“Is that what you want? To cum hard?”

“God, yes,” you moaned, pumping your fingers in and out of you faster.

“Take off your dress.”

“What?” you weren’t sure if you’d heard him right, you were still driving down the highway after all.

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

Not wanting to push your luck any further you didn’t hesitate to listen this time and pulled the loose fabric up and over your head.

“Good girl,” he praised and you whined. You were still wearing your bra and underwear and as much as you’d love to flash oncoming traffic, you hoped Mingyu wouldn’t ask you to take them off.

“You can touch yourself,” he said and you complied, knowing it was more of an instruction than an allowance.

It felt good, really good, but you still wished it was him instead of you.

“Fuck, darling you look so beautiful like that, God, I can’t believe I get to marry you.”

“If, you stop, killing people,” you managed to get out through gritted teeth and Mingyu laughed.

“I’m not going to kill him, baby. I made a promise. You’re too important to risk losing, even if he is a fucking prick.”

You whimpered, the mixture of complete head-over-heels love you felt for Mingyu and pleasure making you crumble.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he said, reaching over and taking you by the wrist, stalling your movements just as you were about to fall over the edge. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll forget you ever met that asshole.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

forever tags: @haven-cove

shoot me an ask to be added/removed from my taglist

[sortasirius]

“Carry On” and...Yikes.

Well clowns, looks like the clown calls were coming from inside the house this entire time.

I so desperately wish I wasn’t writing this right now.  I so wish that I could be writing something better, something joyful, something happy about this fifteen year journey with these characters.  It seems as though the show had other ideas, so in we go.

So...the dog was cool.  Also interesting that Dean was back to his breakup/grieving coping mechanisms: not making his bed, messy room, beer all over the place, Sam making breakfast, etc.

So I guess I better just start off with how...off this episode felt in regards to Dean specifically. Idk why he suddenly wanted a dog and Sam had no real interest in one, since the opposite has been true for, idk, fifteen years, but whatever, I was willing to let it go.

I thought the pie thing was a sweet scene, it was funny and nice and a good button on Dean’s pie thing.

Weird to, you know, bring up Cas and not mention his tragic ass deal and why he got got, but whatever.

I cannot physically believe that this MOTW aspect was, quite literally, so much of the plot.  Like...we figured that it was going to be an aspect, but for it to be SO MUCH?  Bruh.  I am such a fucking fool lmfao.

Again, cool to see Cas’ coat in the back.  Too bad it wasn’t addressed.

Jenny.  Bitch.  Come on.  Of ALL the villains in the FIFTEEN YEARS of Supernatural.  Jenny.  Who was in....one....episode.  Ok.

I mean that line about the high school thing was funny, I did laugh at that moment.  Fuck I love Dean Winchester.

I cannot believe I specced so much about the barn scene.  Are y’all telling me that “The Night We Met” is being claimed by......Sam and Dean.  Fuck off.

I mean, I thought Dean was going to die, and the scene actually did play out pretty similarly to how I thought.  It was probably the most powerful moment in the episode.  I am very glad that it was Dean’s choice, his choice and his peace to let go. 

“Let me look at you.  There he is.  I am so proud of you, Sam.”

I do love this, I love this because Dean is able to look at his work, the man that he raised, and tell him these things.  He was Sam’s parent, he raised Sam into the man he is today, and he should be damn proud of that.

I do love this most of scene, I really do, I love my boys, these brothers so damn much, and at least, at the very least, I have this scene of them.

Forehead touch was weird, I’m just gonna say it.

I feel like most of this episode was montages lol.  I mean I always hate sad Sam but at this point I still fully felt like we were going to get closure and we just...didn’t.

The Austin number was a cool detail, I liked that bc I picked up on it right away (since, you know, my phone is a 512 number lmao).

What a lackluster goodbye to the Bunker.  I had no clue that was going to be the last time we saw it ever.

FUCK AT LEAST I GOT MY DAMN HEAVEN BAR.

The scene with Bobby was nice, it was good to see him.  We did get our remade Heaven, that’s also nice to know.

“It ain’t just Heaven, Dean.  It’s the Heaven you deserve.”

He does deserve this.  An open Heaven, the people he loves, finally some peace, he deserves that, and I am glad that he got it.

Our second Cas mention.  Great.  Thanks guys.

I mean thanks Jim and Jensen for the microexpressions I guess lmao.

So I am supposed to believe.  That Dean.  Whose entire arc has been speaking his truth, specifically speaking his truth to Cas.  Where he has been stopped twice before this season.  Is going to just drive around in circles for forty years until Sam gets there?  Yeah, that’s gonna be a no from me, dawg.

And Sam gets married and has a kid that he names Dean, and the unspecified dark haired woman in the back of the ten minute montage is supposed to be enough for me to buy that it’s Eileen?  Bruh.

Also it’s BACK TO BACK MONTAGES???  WITH TWO VERSIONS OF CARRY ON WAYWARD SON?

Sam’s age makeup????  Hello????  AT FIRST THEY DIDN’T EVEN AGE HIM THEY JUST PUT HIM IN A WIG?????

That cover of Wayward Son did slap but was it enough?  No.

Even that bridge moment didn’t hit right because Sam didn’t cross it?  He was just suddenly there.

It just fucking sucks.  It sucks that their reunion doesn’t land right because they...didn’t do anything when they were apart.  Sam had his kid sure but Dean literally just drove around.  No mention of Cas or of Eileen.  Nothing.  So the last moment of this show I love feels tainted and hollow and just wrong.

It sucks.  I’m not going to lie.  But the worst thing about it?  Is that it doesn’t make any sense.  I have not spent two years of my life picking apart the writing rooms in Supernatural, lauding this current team for what they’ve accomplished for it to end like this.  I know many of you will regard me as a complete tinhat freak right now, but this, to me, does not feel like an episode that Andrew Dabb wrote.  Hell, it doesn’t feel like an episode of Supernatural.

None of the arcs were completed: Dean didn’t get to speak his truth to Cas, Sam never got to become the leader, the legacy hunter he was meant to.  We don’t see them with Cas or Eileen, we don’t even hear about them.

Listen, there’s a lot that...simply doesn’t add up to me.  First of all, the episode was SHORT, and most of it was montages. They had four montages AND the episode was only 38 minutes.  The series finale of the show was shorter than any other episode and had four multiple minute montages.  Okay.  Make it make sense.  Newsflash: it doesn’t, there is simply no way I can believe that there weren’t massive cuts and reworks done to this episode on an executive level.

I know there are people who will tell me that the writers are just bad and I need to accept that they gave me a shitty ending, but after all this time with this story, especially with Dabb’s arc, he just...doesn’t do shit like this.  His arcs are always complete, always tied up well, always have a button.  But this mess?  This confusing episode that left everything hanging with a cover of Wayward Son hanging in the air?  It just doesn’t add up to me.

This wasn’t the story they were telling, this hasn’t been the story they were telling all season, and I stand by that.

So, I sure do wish I could give you a better post. I wish that we had gotten something better.  I still, after everything, love this show, and will still be here in the morning.

Thanks guys.  Love y’all.

[multi-lefaiye]

Too many but

🗣 Share your favorite dialogue exchange.

🏝 Share your favorite description of a setting.

💔 Share your most heartbreaking line.

📝 Share the first line of your project.

😂 Share your funniest line (or dialogue exchange).

🤯 Share a surprising line, or one where a character realizes something.

👤 Share a line that shows a character’s personality.

🫂 Share a line (or dialogue exchange) that shows the relationship between two characters.

not too many at all! thank you! :D

gonna put my answers under the cut since this is a bit long!

🗣 Share your favorite dialogue exchange.

“I don’t have your resumé on hand right now, but why don’t we do an interview right here? God, fuck, I hate thinking of questions on the spot--okay, what kind of experience do you have?” “I worked at Publix for a few months when I was 16?” “Okay, yeah, that works perfectly. You might actually be a bit over-qualified. Okay, can you tell me about yours- MOTHERFUCKSHITGODDAMMIT.” "Shit, I'm sorry!" "I'm fine, I'm fine. You know what? Fuck this, actually. You're hired."

this is once again from a tftgs thing <3 whoops-

🏝 Share your favorite description of a setting.

Calling the gas station’s break room a break room was truthfully a bit of a misnomer. Really, it was a glorified closet, but the owners had made it clear on multiple occasions that they weren’t interested in shilling out for an actual break room, so it was all they had. So, the employees of the gas station made do, and over time they’d managed to really make the closet feel homey. There was no table, but they’d managed to get their hands on some folding chairs and set them up in a small circle, and a couple of boxes in the back served as rudimentary storage for anything people wanted to keep there. At some point, one of Jack’s coworkers (probably Jerry) had even taken the initiative to hang a little cat poster up on one wall, and someone else (probably Rosa) had hung some Christmas lights to liven up the place.

i swear i do write things that aren't tftgs, please believe me-

💔 Share your most heartbreaking line.

This was far from the first time that someone had looked at Jack and decided he’d failed to meet some standard they’d had for him in their mind, and it wouldn’t be the last.

okay i think that's the last tftgs one i'll share at least for this ask ASDFJK;L i need to prove i write other things.

📝 Share the first line of your project.

this is one of my favorite lines i've written tbh, even if i need to rework the wip it's for.

It’s the dead of night when the monster climbs out of their shallow grave.

😂 Share your funniest line (or dialogue exchange).

Henry then heard a groan and looked to see, in the center of the various objects Addison had spread around the circle of chalk sigils, there was a completely nude man unconscious on the floor of his apartment. The man was handsome in a rugged sort of way, with long, sandy-brown hair and a body riddled with various scars. For a moment, Henry just stared at him. Then he asked the question that was nagging at the back of his mind. “Why the fuck is he naked?”

hehe <3

🤯 Share a surprising line, or one where a character realizes something.

i've shared this bit before, but a bit from fragile things:

Putting a word to it was a relief. He finally knew what was wrong--he just wasn’t a girl like he’d been raised to be! However, this opened the door to a whole new world of possibilities and unknowns, and those frightened him deeply. Giving his problem a name made it real, not something he could shove under the rug and ignore. He was a boy. He was a boy, and that was fucking terrifying.

👤 Share a line that shows a character’s personality.

For the past hour, Roach had been playfully arguing with Yara about something technical that Oliver didn’t quite understand, something specific relating to the editing software they’d started using recently. Syd chimed in now and then, but for the most part, they stayed out of it, occasionally sharing bemused glances with Oliver. He smiled back at them each time, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off Roach for long. Even with his lack of understanding of the subject matter, something about Roach when they were this passionate was captivating. Their grin was wide, and they gestured with their long-fingered hands as if to emphasize each loud, delighted word.

this is from oliver's perspective, but i think it's a good show of roach's personality <3

🫂 Share a line (or dialogue exchange) that shows the relationship between two characters.

Finally, the monster speaks. “Who… are… you…?” The monster’s throat burns with every word as though they’ve eaten glass, each syllable a bloody smear against their chapped lips. The man chuckles. “I am The Raven.” The words mean nothing to the monster, but they can tell the title means something to him. “And I am your savior.” For a long moment, the monster simply stares at him, analyzing him. Eventually, they ask the only question they can think of. “Who… am… I…?” “Who you are doesn’t matter,” The Raven tells them, voice condescending as though he is speaking to a child. “What matters is what you will become.” The monster blinks a few times, uncomprehending. “Be… come?” The Raven does not elaborate.

yeah <3

[mvnvgedmischief]

unremarkable days.

summary: sirius black is trying to be a good man, a good brother, a good person. Sirius has a steady job designing book covers for a publishing house, a flat he never leaves, and a traumatized brother who was just removed from the custody of his parents. All in all, it's wildly unremarkable.

chapter:  4/?

characters: sirius black, regulus black, wolfstar, background marauders

tags: tw: canon compliant abuse, child abuse, social services, abuse

words: 3. 8 k

read it on ao3 here

read the last chapter here

Sirius knew that work was going to be high stress all day. He felt sick to his stomach, thinking about the way he would continuously have to talk to people, when all he wanted was some peace. He wanted downtime. Time when he didn’t have to think about how he needed his paycheck to put food on the table, clothes on his brother’s back, pay bills to keep his lights on, wifi for homework. Regulus occupied his thoughts at all times, protecting him was Sirius’s only priority these days. He didn’t have time for anything else. Not his friends, not his interests, not music. Nothing could come between his focus and his brother’s wellbeing, because if it did, Sirius would never forgive himself. The consequences were too dire. So instead, he just wished for downtime that wouldn’t come, and prayed for the weekend to approach even faster. 

The weekend, when he could finally sleep again, albeit not well. The weekend, when he had the time to take a breath, even if it was only brief. Because his weekends were also spent finding ways to better equip his apartment for his younger brother, going to long grocery runs so Regulus had lunch to take to school, meal prepping all of the things he couldn’t bring himself to eat for dinner. He was definitely tired of all of the ways his mind was spiraling out, he didn’t have the time. He didn’t fault Regulus for it, it wasn’t the teen's presence in his life that was causing all this stress. It really was his own fault. A bit of crying at that first hearing had given Walburga and Orion the satisfaction of a victory over him at that first hearing, and they seemed to crave more of that chaos. They wanted to watch their children suffer, and this was how they chose to do that. So instead he spiraled in the privacy of his own home, because he could practically hear the words they burned into his mind whenever he saw them, and feel the ache of old beatings. 

But it was only Thursday, and that meant he still had to do this all day, and  then get berated by the rest of the team for not attending their weekly bonding happy hour. If he was lucky,  no  one would ask him to go. He knew he should be less terrified of them asking, most of the people on his team were his friends. There was simply the question of Remus, and Sirius didn’t have the time to be thinking about him in the first place. 

He didn’t have time to think about  the way his hair curled just the right way to fall into his eyes when he slept, or the way his caramel freckles made him look sunkist. He didn’t have time to think about the  pink scars that ran down Remus’s face or how they got there. He definitely didn;’t have time to think of the comfort  of his hand combing through Sirius’s own mop of unruly curls. So instead, he needs to  put  all of that out  of his mind. It wasn’t going to help him do well at work. It wasn’t going to solve his problems. He didn’t have the  time for this, nor did he have the emotional bandwidth. Perhaps that was why Sirius was conveniently avoiding the idea that he had asked Remus on a date. With some luck, Remus would think he was just an asshole who ghosted him. That was definitely complicated by the fact that they worked together, that he couldn’t just disappear. He wanted to, he really did, because there was simply no time. 

He set up his deliverables as though he had made tons of them, because his employment in this company  rode on it. Just two months ago, he was pegged to be promoted within the next two cycles, and now he could barely hold on to his sanity enough to handle his workload. He was so fucking tired, and he had so much on his plate. He needed to mentally prepare himself for the long day of meetings ahead of him. He had no true motivation to do his job right now, all he knew was that his exhaustion was no excuse. He knew that his boss, Alice, was giving him a whole lot of leeway right now. She was probably doing more than she should to help him. Being a mentor on the senior design team didn’t mean she needed to keep tabs on his personal life and pick up his slack. 

“Sirius–” 

When Sirius focused back into the meeting he was calling into, it occurred to him that they’re talking to him. So he did what he always did, blamed it on a shoddy connection. 

“Oh, sorry, can you repeat that? My audio cut out.” 

“Remus was saying that some of  the poems could probably use illustrations, and he was wondering if you had any ideas on which ones needed it.” 

“Thanks, Peter.” Sirius was glad that he knew the people on this team, that Peter and James were as close to him as anyone could be. Because otherwise, he’d probably be fucked. 

“So I was looking through them, and I was thinking Bite, Magick, and Love I could probably use larger scale illustrations. But at the same time, we don’t want to crowd the book. How attached are you to the current order or page arrangement?” 

It felt too close, but he was lucky that he had at least read the titles of some of the poems in the first half of the book. Sirius knew Remus didn’t actually know what his level of involvement was. He thought it was just doodles, but Sirius would be responsible for presenting everything from kearning and font choice within the pages, to illustration and cover art to the design team. He was integral to the success of this book as a product, and he  needed to start acting like it. 

“I’m pretty attached.” Remus sounded cold to Sirius, and he wondered what exactly he had done wrong in this meeting. And yet, he didn’t have time to think on it. He needed to keep things moving, keep getting valuable information out of the author. Hook up be damned, Sirius needed this book to actually get off the ground. 

 “Okay, well we should get a meeting on the calender to discuss. What poems and what scale of illustrations you want–” 

“Shouldn’t you be deciding what the illustrations look like and the logistics of those. Isn’t that what you  get paid for?” Remus really wasn’t making this easy on Sirius. But he had dealt with bigger demons and divas then whatever this attitude was. So he put on a light and airy smile, one they’d never know didn’t reach his eyes over the low quality webcam and nodded. 

“If you’d like to take a hands off approach with the design work, that can absolutely be arranged. But in the case of a fledgling project with a new author, the design team, myself included, really hope to prioritize your artistic license so that we can get a better sense of your vision for your literature, should Quill move forward with other publications in the future.  We can provide a completely in-house service, with as much input as you feel necessary during the design process, and deliver collateral towards the end of the project when final edits are done, if you would prefer, Mister Lupin.” 

Sirius practically wanted to scream. He needed Remus to stop fucking with his job, with his livelihood. He couldn’t lose this project. He needed all of the billable hours he could get if he was going to justify the overtime he needed in order to provide for his brother. This was ridiculous. But his clinical and polite answer must have thrown Remus, because he didn’t get much more attitude out of him. The back and forth had ended. So instead, Sirius pulled up his deliverables for the week, which included new iterations for the covers, and twelve illustrations for the three poems he had mentioned. 

He noticed the way Remus looked at his drawings, like he was pained by whatever his thoughts were, and Sirius wants to scream that he’s under no obligation to think that they’re good. But then he remembers that Remus seemed to be nitpicking on purpose, based on his critique of the design system itself. Sirius didn’t have the time to deal with that level of petty, just because he hadn’t been answering. He was too busy. He had too much on his plate. So instead he continues his presentation. 

“I don’t like any of these. Maybe you should start over.” Remus sounded vindictive, even mean. Like he was doing this out of spite.  Sirius could feel his heart drop in that moment. He didn’t want to start over. He didn’t have the time. 

“What do you not like about them?” Sirius is trying to salvage his work while he can. 

“The vibe is off.”

“Oh, is there something specific that throws it off or...” Sirius trailed off, wondering what exactly he needed to change. 

“No, it’s the whole thing. All of them are just off.” 

Sirius needed to think quick on his feet. He didn’t have the time to start from scratch, so he pulled up his original thumbnails that he had discussed with Remus. 

“These are the original sketches we discussed. I moved forward with the ones we talked about. I’m happy to rework those sketches,” no, he wasn’t. “But if there’s another sketch that you think would fit your vision better, please let me know.” He felt like he was pleading with Remus not to hate his artwork. He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t a blow to his self esteem to hear that everything that he did was bad. 

“No, I would suggest you start over.” 

Sirius nodded, his mind immediately whirring with ways he could start over and re-design this project. He really didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to do hundreds of thumbnails to get set on thirty, only to be destroyed in a meeting again. Especially when Remus seemed so excited about all of his illustrations before the meetings. It felt like too much. He didn’t have the energy for this kind of behavior. 

Luckily, Marlene directed the conversation away from Sirius’s work. The rest of the call went on without a hitch, like the only person who’s work Remus had a problem with was Sirius’s. He knew that it was more likely for Remus to have a problem with him, because design work was usually something an artist thought of as easy; however, this felt calculated and cold. If Sirius had been avoiding Remus before, it definitely wasn’t about to get better. So instead, he listened to the end of the meeting, and started the project all over again. He could do this. It was an unremarkable critique. It didn’t matter.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Won’t You Stay (Part 3)

Summary: Jensen is injured on set which leads to pushing back one of the biggest stunts of the movie. Later on that night, Jensen walks the reader to her car where a few sparks start to fly...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader

Word Count: 4,200ish

Warnings: language, minor injury

A/N: Please enjoy!

______

“Jensen! Run it back again!” you called the next morning. He jogged back to his first mark, spinning around and taking a deep breath. He’d taken a hard fall a few takes before on a stray branch and had been slow to get up. You knew something was bothering him but he didn’t say anything so you decided to keep going. “Action!”

Jensen ran through the woods and paused right at the camera, panting a few times before he looked around nervously.

“Cut! Good, very good, Jensen. Just what we need,” you said. “Moving on to 12!”

“Uh, after lunch,” whispered AJ.

“Let’s break for lunch and then get going on the big scene for the day,” you said. You let out a sigh, leaning over to your AD. “Thank you. I thought we were running late again.”

“We’re ahead of schedule. Everyone here gets their union breaks so don’t worry, someone will let you know if we’ve gone too long. Don’t stress so much,” he said with a smile.

“We have one of the biggest stunts of the film today. I am more than a little stressed,” you said. You hopped out of your chair and walked to the lunch line, making sure everyone went through before you went to get yours. You didn’t catch Jensen though and headed to his trailer when you didn’t see him around. “Jensen? Are you in there?”

“Yeah,” you heard from the other side of the door. “What do you need?”

“You get some lunch yet?” you asked.

“I’ll grab it in a minute,” he said.

“Are you okay?” you asked. “You were moving a little slow those last few takes.”

“Yeah, fine,” he said. You leaned against the door, staring at the name plate panel on the outside.

“You’re doing a hell of a job of convincing me, Jensen,” you said. 

“Y/N, I’m fine, really,” he said as a small whine came out of him.

You rolled your eyes and opened the door, stepping up and spotting Jensen in his kitchenette without a shirt on.

“For fucks sakes, Y/N. What if I was naked?” he asked, putting his arms around himself. Your gaze went to his ribs, a dark purple spot there he tried to cover up.

“Hey, you are not okay,” you said. He sighed and put down the roll of bandages in his hand on the counter. “Did you get hurt this morning? I saw you fall in the woods. You should have said something.”

“It’s a bruise,” he said. You sighed and stepped over, Jensen closing his eyes. “We have a big stunt this afternoon and as long as I wrap it up-“

“I am cancelling the stunt. We’ll push it back,” you said.

“Y/N-“

“My actors are more important to me than schedules or budgets. You get injured, on or off set, you tell me, no matter what,” you said. “Understand?”

“Okay but-“

“My dad, action hero, supernatural horror, romantic leading man, devilish boy with the soft core, has a very important rule when it comes to acting,” you said.

“What’s that?” he asked, taking a deep breath and wincing.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s your dream role. It doesn’t matter if it’s a story you love. If you’re not respected and treated with kindness on the project, you walk away. If it’s not a safe environment, you walk away. It’s a good rule to have, Jensen,” you said.

“What are you saying?” he asked.

“I’m saying that I will go tell the studio that we need to push back scene 12. We can do it when you’re healthy. Until then, no stunts for you,” you said.

“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” he said.

“Jensen. It’s no trouble at all. Honestly. It’s my job. Now put on your shirt and let's go to medical, get you fixed up and then have some lunch, okay?” you said. He nodded, pausing as he pulled his flannel on. “Need help?”

“I like your dad’s rule,” he said. “I think I’ll be okay on this project though.”

“You will be,” you said. He started to button up his shirt and you turned away to give him his privacy.

“It’s okay, Y/N. It’s not like I don’t have to get down to my undies for this thing at some point,” he said. “I’m so looking forward to that day on set.”

“Well the ladies have a thing for Lyle. But this is your personal space. I’m sorry I came into it without permission. I thought you were hurt. I won’t do it again,” you said. “I promise.”

“It’s okay. You were concerned,” he said, finishing with the buttons. “I’ll just remember to change in my bedroom from now on.”

“Good call. Ready to go get your check up?” you asked.

“Alright,” he said. “Lead the way, boss.”

“I thought I said not to-”

“I’m teasing,” he said, bopping your nose. “Boss.”

“Keep it up, Ackles,” you said, grabbing his arm. “Let’s go get you feeling better.”

“I’m really not that bad,” he said as you walked out of his trailer. 

“You don’t want to mess with bruised ribs if you can help it. At least the nurse will be able to get you wrapped up all secure and she probably has some good pain meds,” you said.

“I mean, I can go on my own. I’m not five. You gotta be starving. Go get your lunch, Y/N.”

“Ackles. Anyone ever tell you you’re grumpy when you’re not feeling well?”

“Actually yes,” he chuckled. “My parents would fully agree with you.”

“I had a feeling,” you said. He was a little slow as he walked but you didn’t push him to go faster. “Jensen. If you do get hurt again, please say something. Even outside of work.”

“I will. This kinda sucks,” he said. “Not that I’m a whimp or anything. But it does hurt.”

“What hurts?” asked your dad, popping out of the bathrooms nearby and jogging down the steps.

“Jensen has a nasty bruise from a fall this morning. I just want him to get checked out in case,” you said. “We’re going to push back scene 12 in the meantime.”

“Hm. Any idea what we’ll do instead?” asked your dad.

“Something easy going. I have to see what sets we have available,” you said.

“What about when Hale and Lyle sit and talk that night? You could probably do that without too much hassle in the studio,” said Jensen.

“He does have a point,” you said. “Scenes twenty eight and nine and thirty three? You guys think you could study those while I get it organized?” you asked.

“Yeah. I think that’ll be good. Oh and Jensen. Put some aspercreme on that bruise tonight before bed, ice for ten minutes and then wrap it. It’ll help. I’ve taken my fair share of hits,” said your dad.

“Thanks Ethan,” said Jensen as you went over towards the medical area with him. You got on your radio and told Mark and AJ the new plan while Jensen was checked out by the nurse. You knew you’d be getting a nasty phone call probably within the hour but you tried not to think of that when Jensen came outside and gave you a thumbs up.

“Doing okay?” you asked.

“Not broken. Just bruised the muscle. Got some medicine and a better fitting wrap to use. I feel better already,” he said. “But I was advised to take it easy for the next week.”

“Awesome. I’m glad it’s not too bad. We’ll make sure that we rework the schedule to do some easy-going scenes for you this week,” you said. Jensen walked with you back towards the lunch tent, most people either done or wrapping up with their food. You got a wrap and salad, sitting down with Jensen at a free table. You wolfed down your food, Jensen chewing slowly. He stared at you and you ate more slowly, Jensen chuckling quietly.

“I like a girl that’s not afraid to eat,” he said. “Go for it.”

“I don’t know why I’m rushing anyways. Everyone needs time to prepare for the new scenes,” you said. “You probably have an hour or two to learn your lines.”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” he said. You took a bite and tried to enjoy your meal, Jensen looking like he was in less pain than earlier. “So how do you become a director?”

“Hate yourself and the idea of ever sleeping again,” you said, smiling to yourself, Jensen returning it. “Well the truth is I grew up on film sets. I know a lot of stuff that most people don’t get to learn until they’re older. I started working when I was fourteen on set actually. Only a few hours a week after school or on the weekend but I learned a lot about camera work, pacing, lighting, basically everything. By the time I was done with college, I was interning in the production office and when I was working on my deal for the movie a few years later, I was confident enough that I knew all of the ins and outs to pull it off.”

“Wow. You were in training your whole life for this, huh,” he said.

“Sorta. I actually had a pretty average desk job for two years after college. I was writing in my spare time but I didn’t do any of this kind of stuff then. I missed working on something like this. Once the book was published, I knew I was going to write for a career and get back in the business if I could,” you said. 

“I’m glad you came back to it. I like working here,” he said, showing off a soft smile and bright green eyes. “The set I mean. It’s better than pretty much every project I’ve ever worked on.”

“It’s only day three. I have plenty of time to mess this up,” you said. You let out a dry laugh, Jensen cocking his head, giving you a friendly 

“Maybe that’s true but you have to have some serious talent to be put in charge. I wouldn’t write that off for nothing if I were you,” he said. You nodded and finished up with your wrap, diving into your salad as you noticed a piece of his hair flop down over his forehead. 

“You even got Lyle’s hair,” you said, pointing towards it. Jensen cocked his head and ran his hand over his forehead and up, the piece sticking back up. “Fixed it.”

“Thanks,” he said, wetting his thumb and running it over the spot.

“I caught a bit of your reel from when you were on Supernatural,” you said. Jensen paused but continued eating. “You do realize it was a good show. It wasn’t cancelled for bad acting.”

“I wish we could have gone a little longer is all. I really liked that story,” he said.

“Maybe someday Netflix could pick it up or something. You never know,” you said.

“Maybe. Right now though Lyle has my full attention,” he said. He took his last forkful of lunch and swallowed. “I better go learn my lines.”

“You got some time. Don’t rush,” you said. He hummed and stood up, turning to leave.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said over his shoulder. “Thanks for writing the book.”

“Thank you for reading it,” you said softly.

“You got this,” he said before he took off back towards his trailer. You smiled to yourself and tried to believe what he said. 

Then your phone had to ring and you saw your boss calling.

“I’m sure this is going to go well.”

“Hey,” said your dad as you stretched from your chair at the end of the day. “I heard that studio exec said more than a few not nice things today.”

“Yup,” you said as you grabbed your bag. “Kinda made that time I cried after failing Calculus seem like not such a big deal.”

“You were such a good student. Your first semester of college was a hard change. Also your professor was a dick,” he said.

“Yeah, well nothing compared to being told off by my boss,” you said.

“I called Bryerson,” he said. You whipped your head around.

“Dad. I told you not to do me any favors on this whole deal,” you said.

“It wasn’t a favor. I heard what happened, just like everyone else. I called all of our bosses to let him know that you prioritized safety over a stunt. It won’t even cost that much to push filming back. You want to know what he said? That was the right call. You just made a friend up top today, kiddo,” he said.

“...Don’t call Bryerson for me again,” you said as you turned away. “Thank you.”

“Get some sleep at home tonight, Y/N,” he said. 

“I will. Give Anthony a noogie for me,” you said.

“What’s Ella getting?” he asked with a smirk.

“Also noogie. I’m an equal opportunist older sibling torturer,” you said, laughing to yourself.

“You can always move back home, kiddo. We miss you,” he said.

“I’m twenty seven dad. I stayed long enough. I need my own space,” you said. “But I’ll try to be better about coming home more.”

“I know. Still getting used to it is all. So go home, try to relax and remember you did a good thing today,” he said. “Want a ride home?”

“No. I have a quick meeting but then I’ll get out of here, promise,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yes you will. Night, sweetie,” he said. You got a quick hug before he headed for his trailer and you went to the production office to go over your new filming schedule.

An hour later you trudged out of the office with a yawn. You slipped on your jacket and backpack, hitting a few lights in the quiet building before you walked out the front door. You hummed and headed across the studio lot for the parking lot, whistling as you went.

You were about halfway there when you heard a noise come from the trailers. You paused and looked over at the little maze of them, poking your head down a dark row.

“Hello?” you asked.

“Do you always talk-“

“Fuck!” you shouted, spinning around, Jensen wincing in your face behind you. “I’m sorry.”

“I probably deserved that,” he said. “Sorry for scaring you. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“I thought I heard something,” you said.

“It’s probably the generator. It kicks on sometimes,” he said.

“What are you still doing here? We wrapped an hour ago,” you said.

“I was watching dailies and had to sign some worker’s injury report thing at medical,” he said. “You?”

“Got bitched at again for pushing the stunt back,” you said.

“Y/N-“

“Jensen. I will take the bitching. I’m happy with my decision today,” you said. “Don’t worry about it. How’d the dailies look?”

“Cool,” he said. You giggled and he laughed. “Sorry. I know that’s not the technical term.”

“No. Cool is what I’m hoping for,” you said. “You like the camera stuff?”

“My dad’s an actor too actually. I grew up hearing about the whole industry. I’ve always been interested in the process,” he said.

“Ah. Another Hollywood baby,” you said.

“Nothing like you. I grew up in a house in the suburbs, nothing fancy or anything. I came here like once before I tried out acting. I had a very boring stereotypical childhood,” he said.

“I would have liked that,” you said. “We moved a lot growing up. It wasn’t until my dad got married that I went to the same school and stuff.”

“Yeah but your dad is Ethan Y/L/N. That’s pretty awesome,” he said, smiling wide. “It’s got to be fun working with him.”

“It is. It’s nice to see more of him. I moved out two years ago. I don’t make it home much lately,” you said.

“Any reason why?” he asked.

You shrugged, Jensen nodding. 

“I moved in with my boyfriend,” you said.

“Oh.”

“He’s not in the picture anymore, hasn’t been for about a year,” you said.

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, I’m kinda between girlfriends myself.”

“Wow,” you laughed. Jensen chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I like that. It’s funny.”

“Sorry. Last girlfriend sort of slipped some personal stuff about me in an interview. I wasn’t a fan. It kinda turned me off from dating to be honest,” he said.

“She give out your address or something?”

“Talked about our sex life to MTV,” he said. 

“Oh. Wow. That’s just bad,” you said. 

“Yup. I don’t care if she thought she was giving me a compliment. That’s too personal to share,” he said.

“I don’t blame you,” you said.

“Being single has its perks though, right?” he asked. “We can stay up how late we want, no one to crowd the bathroom. No one eats your leftovers on you. It’s not the worst thing in the world, that’s for sure.”

“Oh yeah,” you said. You had to admit there were some upsides but having someone to come home to wouldn’t be half bad either. You gave him a smile, Jensen turning towards the parking lot a ways off. “I uh, should get home. We have an early day tomorrow.”

“I thought we didn’t have filming until two?” he asked.

“You don’t. I’ve got an assload of prep work to do before filming starts,” you said. He nodded and looked at you, the night air quiet. He moved a little closer and you saw his eyes dip down to your lips for a brief moment.

“I’m sure you do but you should probably sleep in,” he said, cupping your cheek. You stared at him, his hand quickly pulling away. “Uh, bags under the eyes.”

“You sure know how to make a sleep deprived girl feel pretty,” you laughed. He chuckled but it was forced and you saw him make a face at himself.

“Sorry. I uh, still get nervous around you,” he said.

“I wrote a book. Ain’t no reason to be nervous with me, Jensen,” you said, giving him a smile. “We should both probably head home though and get some sleep.”

“Agreed,” he said. You started to walk towards the lot, Jensen walking the other way for a second. “Sorry. Forgot I parked in the far lot.”

“I thought the actors had their own lot right around the corner?” you said. He stared at you, looking past with a tired smile.

“Just let me walk you to your car. It’s the least I can do after scaring you,” he said.

“I’m a big girl, Jensen,” you said.

“I know that. But let me walk you,” he said.

“Is this a you’re a gentleman thing?” you asked.

“This is me asking my friend if I can walk her to her car late at night so that I feel a little better knowing she got there safe,” he said.

“Alright,” you said, Jensen staying by your side as you walked in the quiet night air. “Thank you.”

“I’m not perfect but my parents did a few things right,” he said.

“My dad would appreciate that,” you said. “Mom too but dad’s always been a tad protective.”

“I never realized that the Y/L/N that wrote The Dark Woods was related to Ethan Y/L/N,” he said.

“You a fanboy of all the Y/L/N’s or just me?” you teased, getting closer when you heard shuffling on the other side of the lot fence.

“Well every boy growing up the past two decades thought he was awesome,” he said, moving to your other side. “I liked your book a lot though.”

“Why?” you asked. “I get that Lyle is kind of a dreamboat and like, the ideal guy but why do you like it? Give me the guy’s perspective.”

“Because Lyle could have been a bad guy and he turned out to be good,” he said. “Hale really treated him well.”

“Hale did kind of kidnap Lyle just a smidge,” you said with a laugh.

“Because he thought Lyle killed his son,” he said. “Then he ends up taking Lyle under his wing.”

“You know, I almost had Hale be evil,” you said.

“Why? Their relationship is even more important than Lyle and Molly’s,” said Jensen. “Nothing against Molly, I love her too but Hale and Lyle is so interesting to read about.”

“It was a rough time and I took it out on my characters,” you said. “It was wrong though, to do that to Lyle. Sorry. I know he’s not real.”

“You created him. He’s real, Y/N. He’s a good role model, for men and women,” he said. 

“So you like his relationship with Hale the best?” you asked.

“Lyle was alone and Hale was kind to him after he realized Lyle didn’t hurt his son. Hale became a good dad to him,” said Jensen. 

“Hale’s based on my dad a bit you know,” you said. 

“Your dad is a vigilante?” teased Jensen.

“No. No. But you know, he was a single dad to his son and then to Lyle. I know what that’s like,” you said.

“I’m glad you didn’t make Hale evil,” said Jensen. “It would have crushed Lyle.”

“You really know that character, don’t you,” you said.

“He’s not a stereotypical guy. He’s not any one thing but at the end of the day, he’s good. I don’t know, it’s just...he’s more like how guys actually are, you know?” he said.

“Not in my experience,” you said. “Guys fucking suck. Except you. You’re sweet.”

“Well, you’ve also never dated me so it’s entirely possible I do indeed suck,” he chuckled. 

“Jensen,” you said as you spotted your car and started to slow. “I um…”

“I know. Fanboy has to learn when to keep his mouth shut,” he said. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

“Hey,” you said, grabbing his wrist before he could head back for the other lot. “I think it’s cool you like this story so much. No one besides my family ever encouraged me to write or thought I was any good until I got published. I think Lyle’s really lucky he ended up with having you play him.”

“I’ll try to do him justice,” said Jensen.

“Jensen,” you said again. “Saturday night. I...I don’t think us seeing each other outside of work is such a good idea after all.”

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” he said as he turned away.

“I’m just crazy busy and I’m not ready for a relationship, Jensen. Maybe neither of us are. After filming is done we could-”

“It’s okay. I get it. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. You sighed and stared at him, waiting for him to go. “Get in your car.”

“Why?”

“So I know you got in your car okay,” he groaned. “Just do it.”

“Guys don’t do that sort of shit outside of movies and books,” you said.

“Yes they do,” he said with a small smile. “You obviously haven’t met too many great guys then.”

“Thank you for walking me to my car,” you said as you put your hand on the door. He didn’t say anything and you rolled your eyes, sliding inside before you were turning the keys and heading home.

______

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

[phantom-curve]

did I shatter you? pt. 2

part one: you’re not my homeland anymore | part two: when a good man hurts you | part three: there’s an ache in you, put there by the ache in me | part four: my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand | epilogue: what died didn’t stay dead

It was him. There was no denying those overgrown brown locks peeking out from his favorite orange beanie or the ocean within his eyes. His feet skipped a beat at the sound of his name, head raising to stare at her with the pain of a thousand heartaches lurking behind his cloudy gaze. Her chest burned. Both of them in so much pain, so close, and yet still unable to cross the chasm that had opened between them. They stared at each other for a long moment, the snow dampened silence spinning out between them. Luke’s face was pale, his eyes bloodshot from crying or lack of sleep she couldn’t possibly know anymore. He sniffed, raising his arm to wipe at his nose with the back of his overlarge flannel sleeve. So, crying it was. Julie felt like she was staring at a ghost.

“What are you doing here?”

They spoke at the same time, their voices overlapping in a sloppy mess of harmonies they hadn’t practiced in too long. Julie’s heart stuttered at the sound of Luke’s low vibrato. He stared at her as if she was the answer to a prayer he hadn’t known he’d been asking for. Electricity sparked between them, bodies drawing closer together without conscious thought from either one. Julie hadn’t been this close to him for a year. His hair was longer, even more unruly than it had been in the years they’d been together. His face looked tired; brows heavy with the weight of whatever battles he had been fighting alone. Always alone now. Her fingertips itched with the desire to reach up and stroke his cheek. She didn’t have that kind of unspoken permission anymore.

She turned on her heel without a word, soundlessly making her way back to the very same bench she had just vacated. Her steps were sure, no hesitation to wait and see if he would follow. She knew he would. His quiet steps provided the only other noise in the frigid air. They didn’t touch as they each took a seat on the farthest corners of the bench. It was an unspoken agreement to keep that space between them. They needed a buffer zone for this conversation. Julie fidgeted with her necklaces; fingers tucked underneath a chunky knit scarf so they would stay far away from Luke’s body. She watched him tuck his own hands underneath his thighs. At least the feeling was mutual.

Snow accumulated around them in pristine, white piles. Julie watched it gradually stack on her knees, shivered underneath the wetness of slowly melting flakes in her hair. She would be damned if she broke this silence. Luke had come here. He knew how much it had always meant to her and he had come here, on a December day so close to the one she hated most. He could speak first. It only took a few minutes longer for him to break.

“I’ve missed you.”

Three simple little words, yet they cut through her like a finely sharpened blade. She sucked in an icy breath, bracing herself against the burn in her chest.

“You don’t get to say that to me.”

Her words were low, barely an octave above a growl. She stared at him head on, saw him flinch away from the raw emotion in her eyes.

“You chose to leave. You didn’t want to listen to anything I had to say. You left before I could even try to stop you. You don’t get to miss me.”

Her voice had grown stronger with each pointed statement. It was true that Luke had chosen to cut and run instead of stick around and fight for her. But it was also true that she hadn’t chased him down. She had accepted the end of their relationship in silence, too tired at that point to care enough to fight back. She was writing a revisionist history here, and she could tell by the way his eyes blazed that he wasn’t going to let her get away with it. He angled his body towards hers, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets. Probably so he couldn’t get overworked with hand gestures that she would tease him about.

“You didn’t try to stop me. You never tried. Just let Andi reach out with tour negotiations and recording schedules so you could avoid me at all costs while we fell apart! How the hell was I supposed to talk to you without a middleman? You know I hate sending messages through other people.”

“How else was I supposed to talk to you, Luke?” His entire body shivered at the sound of his name leaving her lips. “You barely came home anymore. The only time I really saw you was at the studio and I was tired of trying to communicate with you through song lyrics. Couples should be able to talk to each other!”

“Oh, like you ‘talked’ to Nick?” He scoffed.

“Jesus Christ, not this shit again. Those tabloid photos were taken from the worst possible angle and there was absolutely no kissing involved, but even if there was, what do you care? I kiss Reggie and Alex on the cheek all the time. Why shouldn’t I kiss an old friend like Nick on the cheek? Just because you said not to? When have you ever not done something just because I asked?”

“That’s different! Reggie and Alex respect you, they respect us! Nick was always just waiting in the wings for me to fuck up so he could swoop in.”

Julie let out a humorless chuckle and shot to her feet, unable to keep the frustrated, restless energy out of her legs as she paced back and forth in front of the bench. Luke stayed seated, but his body was vibrating with tension. She could see the strain in his neck as he fought to keep himself in check.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Nick has never done anything but respect us, and he hasn’t been waiting around for anything! You did just fine burning our relationship to the ground on your own. Don’t stand there holding matches and then blame him because he once owned a lighter! Even before we met, Nick was nothing more than a friend. After you...”

She bit her lip to stop the confession. Luke glared and she suddenly couldn’t help herself, the words tumbling out in a desperate whisper.

“After I met you it was over for me. No one else could possibly compare.”

It felt like they were having the exact same fight they had every day leading to their break-up. Luke never confident enough, Julie never willing to shrink herself for the sake of his pride. She had been a fool to think a year apart would change them. It was always like this. All the ways their souls fit so seamlessly, all the ways they connected, were the same things that sabotaged them every time. They would come together in a moment of perfect harmony, and then suddenly the notes and lyrics would sour, and they would be right back at square one.

Luke was constantly fighting to prove himself, pushing harder in the studio, nagging at everyone in the band until every note was perfect. His passion and drive were never-ending. It wasn’t enough for Julie and The Phantoms to be as successful as they were. Nothing could erase the sting of losing Sunset Curve to Bobby right before they were about to make it big. Nothing could erase the way his parents had dismissed his work, refused to help him fight the label Bobby had moved to because they didn’t see a point to it. Julie still remembered how angry Luke had been when she first met him. Ready to fight the entire world and then some.

She had thought working together was softening him, thought that maybe she was healing him. Things had been so good for the first few years after they made it big. Some lightness had returned to him, and the fame they found as a band had given him the exact connection with the world that he had always craved when playing. Julie had thought that would be enough for him. She had thought she would be enough for him. It was far too late when she realized nothing would ever fill that hole in his heart, not even her.

He had kept those wounds hidden, letting them fester and rot until his entire system was corrupted. She couldn’t fight a ghost, and he let the betrayal poison him against her more and more every day. She would never forget the final words he had screamed at her on this exact boardwalk as they fought about why he cared that Bobby was releasing another album. Would never forget the heavy silence that had fallen over the two of them as they landed like a bomb, tearing her apart in an instant. Well maybe if you wrote music worth stealing you would understand! She had felt their connection snap in that moment, had known with every fiber of her being that it was the end then.

She had left New York that same day. Escaped back to LA and their house in the hills to wait for him, but he never returned to her. It had been the last time she saw him until this exact moment. Julie had dropped The Phantoms from her name and pretended it didn’t feel like she had cut off one of her limbs in the process. She nearly sold her soul to the label reworking her contract into that of a solo artist, and the press had a field day with the breakup since no one would talk about it. Reggie and Alex had come by to collect Luke’s things. The three of them still got together every week they were in town at the same time, but it wasn’t the same. The empty fourth chair at their brunch table always felt haunted.

Luke stared up at her from his position on the bench. Her words had drained the fight right out of him. She watched him crumple, felt her own ire dim. He was deviating from the script now. He was supposed to stand up and yell back at her about how she didn’t understand his pain. He wasn’t supposed to look so defeated already.

“You’re right.”

His confession was a raspy whisper, both words pulled from the deepest part of his soul. She came to a stop in front of him, mouth falling open. He lifted his head, their eyes locking. Tears clung to his lashes.

“It was my fault. I ruined it.”

Her heart flared at his words. He had never before admitted that his attitude had helped lead to their downfall. She felt herself drift towards him, drawn in by the genuine anguish she could see etched into every line of his face. He didn’t reach for her, not even when their knees touched. It was all she could do to stop herself from pulling him close.

“You didn’t deserve that. We didn’t deserve that. I let myself get so worked up over beating Bobby at his own game that I didn’t realize I had already won the better prize.”

Julie felt her breath catch in her throat. She was drowning in the unending depths of his ocean eyes, the pain there just as intense and familiar as her own.

“Losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Worse than losing Sunset Curve and my songs. Worse than all the bullshit with my parents. Losing you was like losing myself.”

A muffled sob managed to work its way up and out of her throat. Luke’s hands lifted and clenched before he dropped them back to land on his thighs with a smack that echoed in the frozen air. Still so close and so far away at the exact same time.

“I tried so hard, Luke. Nothing I did was ever enough, and you were so angry all the time.”

Now he did stand, jumping up so fast he nearly knocked her flat on her back. His hands shot out to clasp her forearms. She could feel her skin light on fire under his touch even beneath the layers of winter clothing.

“Not with you, Julie. Never with you.”

She nearly wept to hear him say her name like that again. No frustration or annoyance, just pure affection and adoration. Like her name alone was the highest power he could call to.

“You were the one light in my life. I just didn’t see it until you were gone, and I was alone in the darkness. I’ll never regret anything as much as I regret hurting you.”

Julie let herself fall into him, the soft-spoken words a balm to her ragged soul. His arms raised to tuck her body fully into his, the two of them fitting together like puzzle pieces. It wasn’t everything, wasn’t a full reckoning of their past just yet, but it was a start.

[stardancerluv]

The Night Roman Reminded You

Part 2 of 2

Summary: If Victor ever warns you, take the warning to heart. At six weeks into dating Roman, you learn an important lesson not just about Roman but yourself.

Arthor’s Note: As a writer, I have wanted to rework it, once more, again! I wrote my own version, awhile back. I am sorry (not sorry. I am actually reworking it for a third time!) revisiting it. I feel that my writing has improved, I want to do this moment even better. I always, felt this was a turning point in my “steady” reader and Roman dynamic. It’s darker but it establishes why they are the great couple that they are and plants the seeds that grow in At War and Gotham Lockdown 2020 and beyond.

(That scene where he makes the girl dance is an incredibly strong scene. I do not condone or support the behavior)

Walking out of his office upstairs, he went to the railing. Perching, there he could look out at it all and not have to make nice. He’d do that soon enough when Falcone and Penguin showed up. He didn’t know who he hated more. His martinis had not helped his mood. Harley’s mess earlier was going to eat away at his profits from tonight, tha bitch. So Penguin, had better not try and fuck with him tonight.

Looking, down he spotted a cute little number walking around. From the top she looked like quite the catch. If this had been six months ago, he’d go down and charm her. Heck, she would probably already be on her back. Though, now he had you. You were wonderful inside and out. He still didn’t know what he’d done to deserve you. If only you were here, he’d bend you over this railing, his anger and his sex drive were on high gear. He had to admit it to himself, he actually needed you and he liked that.

Resigning himself that it would not be until later tonight till he’d have you, turning he headed back into his office. Perhaps, he’d grab another martini from Adam. As he turned Zsasz caught his eye, he grabbed that girl. Leaning over the railing, he tried to take a closer look. Why was Zsasz grabbing her.

That’s when the girl turned. It was you. You were here. He smirked, pushing his sleeve aside, he checked the time. More then enough time, before the idiots shopped up.

*****

“Will he be here soon?” Asked one of your friends.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “Yes, if he’s not in a meeting.” You kept an eye out, while trying not to looked worried.

“Hey’s let’s get some dancing in. He surely will join us soon.”

“Yes! Let’s do that!” You made your way to where everyone dancing. You let the music move you. Your anger and annoyance began to slowly, melt away. Music always did that for you.

The more you danced, the more you envisioned Roman’s hands on you. You bit your bottom lip at the thought, then gasp escaped your lips as you felt a pair of hands do just that. You smiled, he had found you and decided to dance with you. He so rarely danced with you in the club, he liked to keep up appearances and you understood. This would show your friends. You fluffed your hair, it begun to get a little hot.

“Y/N what the fuck are you doing?” Roman’s voice, silenced the entire bar. You stopped immediately. Turning, you made a small sound when you looked up and saw some strange guy, leering down at you. You backed up, looking past him you saw Roman. You saw his anger, making his features razor sharp.

People moved away as you made your way over to Roman. You pressed your lips together. You didn’t know what to say, this wasn’t how you ever wanted him to find you, especially after hearing that he had such a horrible night.

*****

Maintaining, his cool he moved as fast as he could. For the first time during this shitty night, that he finally began to feel better. Rounding, the corner he looked at the table he always reserved for you, but you were not there. Then he saw you, his anger came back instantly. It was hotter and more fierce then before.

It burst forth, seeing your fingers in your hair as you moved with the fucking goon. He was dead. Were his hands on you? He was fucking dead.

“Y/N what the fuck are you doing?” Victor came up to him then and tugged on his arm. “Victor,” he slid his eyes to the man. “Let go of me.” He shook his hand off, and took a step closer as you neared.

“So you came here to fucking dance huh?” He spat out, once you were in front of him.

You held up you hands, “I...I yes I..I...”

His blood was rushing and beating hard in his ears as he looked around, he spotted a table. He cleared it. Glasses, a few bottles and a few plates even flew off it before crashing hard. Still no one spoke, except him.

“Get up on the table and show everyone how you dance.”

Victor, drew close once again, trying to pull him away. “Roman.”

“What did I fucking say?” He swallowed and looked at you. You had not moved. “This is my fucking club. I will do what I fucking want. Y/N get up there and fucking dance.”

You moved, but not fast enough.

“Victor, wanna be helpful? Get her on the fucking table and take him the fuck away.” He pointed to the man who dared to touch you.

Victor went over to you, first. He saw as you refused his hand. You actually yanked your arm free.

******

“Don’t you touch me. I can do it.”

You tugged your arm free of Victor. Holding onto a chair, you climbed onto that first.

“Get fucking up there.” There was an undercut of menace in his voice, that stole your breath.

On shaky feet, you went and stood on the table. You hoped it would hold your weight. You steadied yourself. You had never seen him like this, it shortened your breath and your heart begun to speed up.

“I said fucking dance.” He began moving himself.

Perhaps it was the angles of his face you, the way his hard blue eyes looked at you, his anger maybe or perhaps it was eyeliner that had not seen since the night you two met but you wanted him. An ache you could not control blossomed in you.

You began to move. “Ok,” Your voice trembled, you didn’t look at anyone else but him. “I’ll dance.” You moved more. I’m dancing.”

“Fucking show them.”

Your eyes didn’t move from Roman’s. You began to move how you wanted to with him. He moved with you, he was encouraging your movements.

*****

He licked his lips, swallowing hard as he looked up at you. “Beautiful.” He managed to mutter as he licked his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He was getting hard watching you. His desire and angry, mingled, he could barely think. He wanted you, that was all he could taste.

Your eyes, you fucking body damn it.

He came to stand just below you, he held up a gloved hand. “Get down from there and we need to talk.”

“Alright.” You said softly and took his hand. Squeezing it tight, you jumped down. You landed smoothly.

“That’s my girl.” He was regaining control of his emotions as he held your hand. He held up his other hand. “What is a party without a little drama. Am I right?” He paused looking around. “Shots on the house!” He shouted, while twirling a finger.

“So it looks like your girl has a fucking wild side.” Maroni said smugly. He appeared from no where.

“Don’t fucking talk to me right now.” Roman held up a hand to the Italian. “Meet me in the vip lounge, get a fucking dance or something.”

“Happily, he smirked.” Maroni held up his hands. “Take your time.”

******

He continued to hold onto your hand as he walked through the club, you eagerly moved to keep up with him. As the two you moved, saw Victor at one point walking out with the goon that had his hands on you.

Soon, you both were moving up the ornate stairs that let to where he had an office upstairs. He tore open the door and brought the two of you inside. Shortly after slamming his door shut, he practically flung you against the door.

******

He pressed himself hard against you, he had to feel you. As he brought his face close to yours, your perfume tickled his nose. “Are you going to fucking tell me what the fuck that was all about?” He rasped.

You pressed your lips against his. “I missed you tonight.” You practically, whined. “I told Victor to get you, so I thought that was you. I had been dancing with my eyes closed. I wasn’t thinking.” You pressed your lips against his lips again. He pulled back to look at you.

This time he didn’t resist, he kissed you back. He could hear an indistinct moan, he deepened the kiss.

He held you closer, breaking the kiss. “Hold onto me.” He managed to say.

Picking you up then, feeling your legs wrap around his waist and seeing how your dress hiked up was a great sight. The sofa was too far away but his desk was right there. Walking over to it, he out you down and brushed aside the maps and papers that were there.

Gliding, his hands up your legs reached under your dress. “We need to get these off you.” He tugged and pulled off you panties.

“Look at you.” The sight I missed all fucking nigh.” Opening, legs he went to stand between them. Biting the edge of one glove he pulled off one then his other glove. He needed to feel you

Grabbing your throat he pulled you towards him. “Do you want me baby?” His thumb caressed you.

“I do, I’m aching for you. Feel me.”

He reached down, his fingers were immediately slick, he rubbed a little loving that you moved with his fingers. “You are so wet baby.”

“That’s what you do to me.” You whispered. He pulled his fingers away and held them up. “Clean them.”

Holding his hand, a moan escaped his lips as he felt your tongue moving along his fingers. With his other hand, he undid his belt and managed to undo his slacks.

“Good job, baby.” Taking his hand back, he freed himself and then meeting your eyes he entered you. You trembled as he slid in easily.

*****

“Oh, Roman stop.” He rose his eyebrows and looking down at you from where you still perched on his desk. “Allow me.” He let your hands work quick magic on his clothes as a smug smile spread across his face.

You easily began tucking in his dress shirt in. “How was your girlsnight going?” He finally asked.

“Alright.” You shrugged. You brought up the zipper gently them buttoned the slacks. “I don’t think half of them believed me when I said we were dating.” You rolled eyes.

“I can do this part.” He did his belt then, once fastened he offered you his hands.

Taking them, you hopped off. You smoothed down your dress. You went grab for your panties.

“Leave them.”

You giggled. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious.” He met your eyes. “I want to go into my meeting, knowing you are out there with no panties on. Knowing, I had just been inside you.”

“Ok.” You trembled.

He pulled his gloves on. “Come over here.” Pulling you close, he smiled.

“Yes?”

He pit a finger under your chin. “Who do you belong to?”

You flushed. “You.”

“Who?”

“You, daddy.”

He smiled. “That’s what I like to hear.” He ran his fingers through your hair. “You looked so good dancing.”

“Thank you, I danced for you.” You beamed at him.

“I could tell.” He smirked.

*****

On the way back to your table Roman made sure he was able to bring you and your friends a round of drinks. He let you scoot into the booth first, he knew he couldn’t stay too long.

“Hello.” He smiled at your friends. “You must excuse our little lover’s quarrel. I can be very passionate.” He noticed your cheeks flush pink. Under the table he squeezed your thigh.

They nodded, they sipped from their drinks. Some polite conversation was exchanged. Your friends bored him. None of them deserved your company.

As you looked sweetly at him, he pressed a kiss on one of those flushed cheeks. “See you later, baby.” He whispered in your ear.

With the flourish, he was known for he slid from the booth. “Now ladies, enjoy the rest of your girlsnight. I must depart for a meeting.” He buttoned his suit-jacket. He patted his cheek. “For good luck?” He looked down at you.

You scooted out and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Good luck with your meeting, daddy.” You whispered in his ear.

“Thank you.” He whispered back, smiling.

He made sure to catch your eye as he bowed slightly like he always did and he left to meet with Falcone and and Penguin. He smiled, regardless of how it would go with them, that goon was still down at the docks waiting for him.

*****

“Are you ok?” They began talking once he left.

“What the hell was that all about?”

“He is..he is...” one friend began to fume.

You shook your head and sighed. “Ladies, he was having an incredibly horrible night before we got here.” You took his martini glass and swished what was left, it was as if part of him was still there. “Harley Quinn had left a huge mess in ber wake.”

“That’s not....” One tried to cut in.

You finished his martini, then put up your hands. “Listen...listen...he was upset about that goom that put his unwanted hands on me.”

One friend rolled her eyes.

“Well, some of you doubted we were dating...”

“You’re staying with him after that?”

A smirked curled your lips, before you pulled off one of the olives from the little sword that remained in the glass and you ate it. “Yes, I am.”

You could careless what they thought. Heck, some of them had not even believed you. Well, now they knew!

None of them ever saw the Roman you did. The one who actually curled up and watched a movie, while nibbling on popcorn. The one who would take a leisurely bath with you after a long, grueling week hunched over your drafting table. Or the one who killed for you.

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @nebulastarr @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @itsknife2meetu @theblackmaskclub @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @nomnomnomnamja @poe-kadot26 @top-rumbelle-fan @babydoll97 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @rosionis @queenofgotham800 @brookisbi @peachthatdrinkslemonade @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @rentskenobi @starwarsslytherin @proffesionalclown @chogisss @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @corey-clown @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @pooshnulooshnu @speedypartyducksuitcase @blondekel77 @saphic-susperia @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight

[snarkymonkeyprime]

Because I need constant validation, here’s the reworked start of that North Bound, Due South.  *strokes it*

    Castiel waited, hands folded at his lower back, eyes straight ahead.  He could hear it all, a susurrus that, if he allowed it, would overwhelm his mind.  It had taken him years of careful training to learn how to narrow his telepathy or block out those around him. Silent as a statue in his rumbled suit, fresh from a red-eye from the East Coast, he knew without even opening those channels, that they spoke of him.  Hard not to when every eye turned his way.  Frowns, confusion, some outright hostility.

    Interloper.  He wasn't one of them.  Beyond the badge, he wasn't them.  It wouldn’t have surprised him to know news had spread of a telepath coming. Gossip had fleet wings, after all. His mouth firmed.  He let his senses thread out slightly and there it was: suspicion, who the fuck is he?, what was Singer thinking?  It began to blur into a swarm of unease.  An oppressive shove against his mind.

        He shut his shields down and shivered. Great.  So, not only was an FBI agent on site, it was an FBI telepath. And much as it hurt, Castiel understood. He could pluck the thoughts of the unwilling and send a healthy man into a drooling coma.  If he chose. Without diligent training, it would be hard to protect against a telepath hellbent on injury.

      He resisted the urge to sigh and rub his forehead.  He’d warned Balthazar this would happen.  When he’d offered his insight, he’d hoped it would be limited to conferences with Singer himself.  Just information based on what they’d gleaned five years ago.  But his director was an ass on a good day; Balthazar probably thought it hilarious that an FBI telepath would be plunked in the middle of Downtown Portland.

      Balthazar, I’m blaming you for whatever arises.  He was tired, his head hurt, and Singer was late.  He only hoped all this disruption would be worth it.  If they could find the killer and stop them before they ramped up again, it would be worth whatever harassment he had to wade through.

      He still remembered the first scene in Nevada.  The most violent death he’d ever witnessed in his career.  Hard to believe he’d see nine more just as horrendous before the year was out.  All telepaths.  All burned out.  What the Portland Police Department likely didn’t know was the killer was likely a telepath as well.  The way the murders were completed, it was as though their minds were hollowed out. Sanitized even.

      That was Castiel’s working theory, anyway.  He had no clear proof given they hadn’t even narrowed down who the killer was. It was possible they’d developed a method of harming telepaths completely.  Or it was a fluke.  But he recalled Dr. Moseley’s remarks on the first death.

      There’s nothing there, Agent. The brain . . . what’s there, anyway, is just shreds.

      He had to wonder at the hate that burned in someone to do something so violent.  He knew that telepaths were largely misunderstood and mistrusted. Even fifty years after the first telepaths began to emerge, nothing had truly changed.  Other than the handful of laws now in place to prevent their mental snooping.  Which, in all honesty, were difficult to enforce given the lack of physical evidence.

      Castiel sighed again.  Not his field, however.  He was an FBI agent, first and foremost.  That he retained the skills of a telepath was just a tool in his pouch.  And a tool he employed very rarely.  The first time he’d read someone’s mind, he’d been thirteen.  Cusp of puberty.  And madly in love with his best friend.  The revulsion he’d read there, when he’d confessed, had scarred him.  To his face, his friend had been kind and understanding. But Castiel had seen the truth. And it never left him.

      He knew what telepaths were and what they represented.  But he also knew that no one but another telepath understood the torment they went through.  Learning to sort one’s own thoughts from others.  Keeping themselves sane enough to simply go to a grocery store.  

      If the general populace truly understood telepathy, they’d look at them with pity instead of hatred.

      He was drawn from his memories by a steady, heavy tread.  A bearded man in a suit and dress shirt, gun on his belt.  Castiel recognized Police Chief Singer immediately.  The man sullenly following behind, however, he didn’t know.  He looked close to Castiel’s age, perhaps younger.  Tall, brown hair, green eyes.  

      And angry.

      Great.  And knowing it the wrong tact, but hoping to stave off any unnecessary strife, Castiel narrowed his focus on the man.  A whisper of a touch and he could get an idea how to handle this man.  Just enough for that insight to keep him from igniting what was likely a hair-trigger temper given the set of his jaw.

      He blinked.

      Nothing.  Absolutely nothing reached him.  Hands clenching at the small of his back, he tried again, wondering if he’d been distracted.  But no; that void remained.  This wasn’t a block.  This wasn’t someone trained – as many police forces tried – to prevent telepathic intrusion.

      This was a shield.  He focused on the man as he shut off his senses. This man, whoever he was, was an expert at blocking telepaths.  Not trained in a weekend or a month even.  The shield was solid as rock without a crack in place.

      Who the hell are you? Castiel thought.

      Bright, angry green met his eyes as Singer stepped into the office.  Castiel had a moment’s panic that he knew what he’d done.  But the man said nothing and did nothing, other than stay about an arm’s length behind Singer, arms folded and jaw tense.

      “Agent Novak?” Police Chief Singer rumbled.  He held out a hand and shook Castiel’s.  “Welcome to Portland.  Good flight?”

      Castiel smiled wearily.  “Long flight,” he said.

      Singer smirked.  “Sorry for the short notice.  We got a second one this morning.”  He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, moving on before Castiel could remark.  “This is Detective Dean Winchester; he’s lead here on the two murders we have.”  He slapped Dean in the chest with the back of his hand.  “He’s been told to play nice with the Feds.”

      Even better.  Castiel forced a smile and held out his hand to Dean. While the shield troubled him, often skin-to-skin contact could work in strengthening his telepathy.  It was also feasible that his travel had worn him down too much, though he doubted that.  “Detective Winchester.  Pleasure to meet you.  I assure you, the FBI is only here to help.”

      Detective Winchester eyed his hand a moment before taking it.  While Dean’s mental block was total, his outward emotion was a simple thing to read. He distrusted Castiel entirely. He let go of Castiel and grunted, “So, what’s a leech doing all the way out West, dealing with us plebians?”  He smirked.  “You get demoted or something?  Snoop on the boss’ wife?”

      Castiel swallowed, internally bristling at the slur.  Tucking it away, he returned to the matter at hand.  The contact with Dean had done nothing to crack the man’s block.  He stepped back, unsettled.  Ignoring the slight from before, he cleared his throat. “Director Miller suspects you may be dealing with a murderer we discovered in Nevada five years ago.  He thought perhaps I could lend a hand.”  He gestured to Singer.  “Your chief did invite me here, after all.”

      “I’m aware,” Dean drawled, clearly annoyed by that.  He looked at Singer.  “Is this really necessary?”

      Singer smacked Dean in the chest a second time, harder given how Dean swayed.  “Quiet.  If he’s got info, that’s good for us.  Keep your tongue still, Winchester.”

    Castiel watched the exchange carefully. While the detective’s expression didn’t change, his tension eased at Singer’s command.  So, Chief Singer was someone Dean clearly trusted.  Which only meant that if push came to shove, Castiel would have to go over Dean’s head to Singer to resolve things.  Not something he’d wish to pursue but at least he had the option.

      Detective Winchester breathed in and out, scowling.  “Huh.” He sighed and shrugged.  “Fine, if the leech is useful.”  He smirked at Castiel.  “Guess that means I’m your leash.”

      Other than a slight frown directed at Detective Winchester, Singer didn’t reply.  Instead, he swatted the man a third time, causing him to swear. “Treat him like a partner, asshole. I don’t give a shit if he can read minds; if he can help, we need it.”  He turned to Castiel.  “He gives you any trouble you’ve got my okay to turn his brains to mush.”

      Castiel’s mouth quirked though he refrained from meeting the detective’s eyes.  “I doubt that will be necessary, sir.”

      Singer eyed him.  “Anyway, got you a room at a hotel near Dean’s building. He’ll take you there.”  He turned to Dean.  “Now.”

      Detective Winchester rolled his eyes and waved a hand in impatience.  “Fine.  C’mon, Agent Leech.  Your carriage awaits.”  Without seeing if Castiel complied, he turned and moved away, heading toward the front of the building.

      After a nod to Singer, Castiel hurried after Dean, unsettled by the strange events.  He’d not expected anything like this.  Of course, most local enforcement agencies disliked intruders like the FBI.  Castiel expected that.  Still, he’d also expected the Portland Police to be appreciative of what he had to offer. They were all on the same side here. All law enforcement officers.  But Dean’s distrust felt stronger than most.

      Personal.

      Then there was that wall.  The dense nothing that met any of Castiel’s attempts to read the other man. That had never happened before.  Even an IQ lower than sea level registered something.  Blocks were little more than evidence that a mind existed.  Patience was all that was required to chip away at it.

      This? This was as though Dean wasn’t even there.

[areiton]

call & come (send up an SOS)

Read on AO3

~*~ 

1.

Rhodey gets the call in the middle of a date. 

Well. 

Not the middle. 

Rhodey gets the call when her mouth is around his dick, his balls tight and aching. Blonde hair is caught in his fist and she’s got a gleam in her pretty blue eyes, as he fucks her wet hot mouth, and he’s gonna come, jesus christ and--

His pager goes off. 

Carol comes off his dick with a wet pop and smirks at him. “You wanna get that?” She licks her lips and uses her hand to jack him off. 

She’s got these callouses on her hand from the joystick of her bird, and they drag over his cock in the most delicious of ways. 

“No,” he pants, and she laughs, and moves to take him back in her mouth, and he catches her by the jaw, pulls her up and kisses her, licks the taste of himself out of her mouth and pinches her nipple just to hear the growly little moan she gives up. 

“But I gotta,” he adds. 

He swipes it up, and three little letters blink up at him. 

SOS. 

He sighs, and glances at Carol. She’s sprawled against her sheets, a hand on her cunt and his mouth waters at the sight. 

The pager goes off again and he says, “Got a phone I can borrow, gorgeous?” 

~~ 

He scowls up at a fucking frat house. 

It’s a goddamn frat house, didn’t they outgrow this shit? 

He scowls, and it’s only a little bit because he left Carol biting her orgasm into her arm while his cock ached against his jeans. 

Most of it’s because Tony went to a goddamn frat house. 

He finds Tony quick. It used to surprise him, how he could always find Tony, like a compass pointing north. Now--now it’s just a skill he’s grateful for and let’s it pull him through the party to where Tony is holding court, surrounded by twenty undergrads who look like this might be the first time they’ve ventured out of the labs. He’s perched on a blond giant's lap, and there’s something frenetic about the way he’s moving, his words starting to slur. 

Rhodey once watched Tony defend a PhD thesis, drunk and running on two hours of sleep in seventy two. 

He doesn’t fucking slur. 

Rhodey’s gaze narrows on the hand on Tony’s waist, the way it’s too tight and holding him in place and he bites back a snarl that wants to rip out. 

He’s horny and his best friend is being manhandled and drugged by a fucking frat boy. 

“Honeybear!” Tony crows, and gives a happy little bounce in his new friend’s lap. Rhodey reaches for him, and--

Tony scrambles free and into Rhodey’s arms, tucking himself against Rhodey’s side like he belongs there, a smile brighter than the sun tilted up at him. 

“You’re drunk,” Rhodey says, patient. “Time to go home.” 

Tony grins and let’s himself be guided out of the fucking frat house and Rhodey has a moment, watching a pair of girls making out against the wall, where he regrets it, the way he left Carol, the way he’s still horny and annoyed. 

But Tony called. 

And he came. 

“You smell like sex, Rhodes,” Tony complains, and Rhodey growls, and drags him home. 

~~ 

2.

He's asleep when the pager buzzes. 

He only notices because it's tucked under his arm, near the pillow, and it sends him scrambling across the bed to get away from it, cursing and rubbing his arm. 

"What the fuck, what the fuck," he grumbles, and the damn thing buzzes again. 

It was his idea, is the thing. 

Tony was a walking disaster, and underage to boot, a messy twink with enough money to buy anyone's affections and Rhodey--

Rhodey took one week to realize that was the worst idea in a whole long list of bad ideas. He bought the shitty pagers and tossed one to Tony, and said, "If you need a rescue or a pick up or anything--send me an SOS." 

"I don't need you to play white knight, honeybear," Tony said, curiously staring at it and him. 

"I know you don't," Rhodey told him, even though he did. "But I want you to have that option. If you need help--" 

"Send up an SOS," Tony echoed. 

The thing is--Tony didn't ask for help. Not when he was drowning in assignments and SI work, not when his mom dragged him away from campus for a week in Tuscany, not when he got caught with coke on him at a party or when a boyfriend got too handsy. 

So Rhodey gave him the pager and prayed Tony would use it in emergencies. 

The first call was startling, and terrifying, and Tony had blinked at him over three boxes of donuts, seemingly as startled as Rhodey was that he'd used the damn thing, or maybe that Rhodey responded. 

It was never serious. 

But Rhodey always answered. 

He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, looking at the address that popped up and sighing. 

Studying would have to wait. 

~~ 

It takes him less than thirty minutes to dress and make his way across campus to the address, and he blinks at it blearily. It's a restaurant. 

A nice one. 

He groans, and wishes fervently for coffee before fixing a polite smile on his face and pushing inside. 

He sees Tony right away, sprawled messy and far too casual, across from Howard. 

He bites down on his curse, and scoots around the hostess busy with a nice white couple and approaches. Tony's gaze flicks to him, and his eyes brighten. "Rhodey!" he crows. 

"Hey, man. Did you forget we've got that lab this morning?" 

"Shit-" Tony breathes, jerking in his seat. His coffee sloshes and it's too creamy and sweet, but Rhodey eyes it anyway. "I gotta--Howard, I have--" 

"Go," Howard grumbles. "God knows you aren't actually listening to me." 

"Board meeting on the 3rd, new patents pending, rework the Icarus propulsion tech. Mom has a charity thing the 5th she wants me to attend. Anything else?" Tony asks, sweetly, but his smile has teeth. Rhodey huffs, reaches across the table, snagging bacon from Tony’s plate, and it makes the tension rising between father and son break. 

And there's bacon. 

"I'll see you the 3rd," Howard says and Tony tosses off a sloppy salute as he slides out of the booth and Rhodey crunches on his stolen bacon. 

"Let's go, Rhodey, wouldn't want to be late." 

Rhodey nods at Howard and follows Tony from the restaurant and back toward their apartment, and it's only when Tony sighs and the tension drains out of his shoulders does he bump his best friend companionably and say, plaintive, "But you're buying me breakfast, right?" 

Tony laughs, and it's star bright and happy. 

~~

3. 

Pepper's eyes narrow when she sees Rhodey in Tony's office. It's rare enough that anyone is there that he had to wipe a thin layer of dust from the top of Tony's desk. 

He's settling in real well as CEO, then. 

"You do not get to rescue him today," she almost hisses and Rhodey smile, all innocent and beatific. 

"I'm just here to see a friend," he says, spreading his hands. 

She snorts, patently disbelieving, and yeah, ok, that's fair. Rhodey's leave never comes as coincident, and for it to run smack into one of Tony's few visits to the East Coast and the quarterly stock meeting--well. 

He's only surprised that he hasn't been called yet. 

"When did it get started?" she asks, and Rhodey blinks at Pepper. She's been part of Tony's life, making sure it spins properly, for almost three years now, longer than anyone but Happy and himself, and it startles him that she doesn't know the origin of the SOS. 

"College," he says. Shrugs. "Tony was always gettin' himself into trouble. I couldn't babysit constantly, so I got us these pagers." He grins down at the clunky thing. Tony hates it but Rhodey refused to let him upgrade. "Told him that if he ever needed me, all he needed to do was call." 

"And he actually did?" she says, skeptical, and Rhodey grins. 

It took six months for Tony to start using the damn things, and then he used them almost obsessively. It was almost a game. 

He missed it, the calls for coffee, the time he and DUM-E got super-glued together, the petulant frown on Tony's face when he burnt his last box of mac and cheese. 

"Have you ever missed one?" she asks, and Rhodey blinks at her. 

"Of course not," he says, and Pepper's eyes narrow, her mouth opens--

And the pager goes off. 

Rhodey smirks and waves the little black box at her. "Duty calls, Pep," he drawls, and pushes himself out of Tony's desk chair, where he's been lounging like he belongs there, and strolls out of the office. 

She sees him a few minutes later, one arm around Tony's shoulders, the younger man talking animatedly while Rhodey steers him effortlessly toward the elevators. 

She watches them and wonders if either of them can see what she can. 

The fond smile on Rhodey's lips, the eager light in Tony's eyes, the way they tipped toward each other, the way they didn't seem aware of the world around them. 

She sighs as the elevator slides closed behind them, and straightens the files she prepared for this eventuality, and squares her shoulders, stalking into the conference room to finish the Board meeting. 

Rhodey, she thinks, ruefully, isn't the only one who comes so readily to Tony's rescue. 

~~ 

4.

"Sir, you can't come in dressed like that," the maitre d says, a little desperately. 

Rhodey spares her a second glance and the true this--he feels a little guilty. He's in a pair of sweatpants he stole from Tony, SI logo plastered down the leg. A faded, too thing MIT t shirt with holes in the collar. 

He was comfortable, reading a book Happy had suggested because for all that Tony liked to give Happy shit for his taste in TV and literature, the man had only ever passed on books that Rhodey enjoyed. 

He was comfortable, two beers into his evening and happy to spend it relaxed, when he got the call. 

Tony called. 

Rhodey came. 

Didn't mean he was gonna change out of his sweat pants to do it. 

"I just need to grab something," he says, flashing a smile, all the cocky self-assured ego that Tony had taught him. 

It works, and he finds Tony tucked into a corner of the restaurant, a bored expression on his face as he sits across from a gorgeous blonde. 

"Tones," he says and smiles at Tony's friend. She is pretty. 

Nice rack too. 

From the confused little furrow in her brow and the blank look on Tony's, Rhodey thinks she probably has a bigger bra size than IQ. "I'm gonna need to borrow him, darling," he says. 

"Oh, are you going?" 

"National security," Tony nod sagely, and Rhodey rolls his eyes, and drags the smaller man out of the damn five-star restaurant. 

They take a shitty cab back to Rhodey's apartment without really talking about it and Tony strips down to a Air Force tshirt he steals from Rhodey's dresser and plaid pajama pants that puddle over his bare feet before curling against Rhodey's side and stealing his beer.

"Want me to order pizza?" Rhodey asks. 

"Chinese?" Tony says, hopefully, and Rhodey rumbles a laugh, adjust to the weight of the other man against his side and reaching for his phone. 

"She wasn't bad," Tony says, after he's ordered and Rhodey is reading again, one hand drifting through Tony's hair. He's laying quiet against Rhodey's side, uncharacteristically quiet, and the small admission draws Rhodey's gaze. "She was just--" 

"Not smart?" 

Tony nods, miserably and Rhodey sighs. "Why do it then? Why date the ones you know aren't smart enough to keep up with you?" 

"No one can keep up with me," Tony says, and he sounds so forlorn, so lonely, it makes Rhodey's chest hurt. 

"I can," he says, without thinking and Tony's gaze flicks up, wide and startled. Too open. It makes something in his chest go tight and aching and he smiles, a quick teasing thing. "If I can, you can find someone else who will." 

Tony grins and the moment slips past, but it doesn't go away, as they eat Chinese, as Tony sips his beer and listens to Rhodey read to him, as they curl together in Rhodey's big bed, and the darkness. 

He can't stop seeing the hope, copper bright and shining, in Tony's eyes. 

~~ 

5.

The thing is. 

The thing is, he’s been with Tony now--best friend, brother, keeper, something--for almost than he hasn’t. Tony is as much as much a part of him as his mama, as much as his uniform and his duty, and he can’t imagine a life where he doesn’t answer, when Tony calls. 

He can’t imagine who he’d be, if he weren’t the other half of Stark & Rhodes, of Tones & Rhodey. 

He doesn’t even want to imagine it. 

He does, however, wish he could sleep a whole night through, sometimes. 

He glares blearily at the phone that replaced the beeper two years ago, when Tony’s finally died and couldn’t be revived. 

Tony will never admit it, but Rhodey’s pretty sure even he misses the clunky relics of their childhood. 

The phone flashes, red and white, SOS bright in the dark and he thinks, just for a moment, of not answering. 

Of calling or sending Pepper or Happy or just pretending he hadn’t gotten it. 

He yawns, hard enough his jaw cracks, and crawls out of bed. 

~~ 

He pulls up to the club and send a text because he loves Tony, he does, he’ll chase him down and rescue him even in the dead of night, but there’s a limit and they are closer to forty now than thirty, and he’s not dragging him out of a club. 

He send the same text to Happy, and then slouches in his seat, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. 

It takes less than ten minutes, which might be a new record, before Tony is crawling into the passenger side of the truck. He smells of booze and sex, and Rhodey arches an eyebrow and Tony shakes his head. “Not mine.” 

Rhodey makes a quiet noise, and pulls into traffic. Tony is quiet at his side, long enough that Rhodey finally glances at him, and he’s a little surprised to see Tony watching him. He’s quiet, and there’s eyeliner smeared under his eyes, making them larger than normal, and he’s still. 

“You ok?” Rhodey asks, softly and Tony smiles. 

It’s a tiny smile, familiar and sweet,and it makes him ache, because that smile is his. 

Shy and boyish and so real it almost hurts. 

“Why do you come rescue me? I’m not an idiot child at MIT anymore, honeybear,” Tony says. 

“Why do you still call? You don’t need me to rescue you,” Rhodey answers, and Tony laughs. 

He reaches out, tangles their fingers together and squeezes. And even after twenty years of sharing space and life, Tony’s casual way of touching makes his heart flip and plunge and soar. 

“I’ll always need you to rescue me,” Tony murmurs. 

Rhodey squeezes his hand, and they lapse back into silence. And then, coaxing and sweet, Tony says, “Will you buy me donuts?” 

Rhodey laughs. 

~~ 

+1

 His fingers rub over his phone, compulsively. Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. 

It’s been eighty-eight days. 

~~ 

At first, he’d tapped it on his leg, while he lay in a medic’s gurney, and demanded to know what the hell happened, demanded to know where Tony was. 

No one answered, and his phone was trashed, and by the time he had one again--they’d told him.

A bombing. 

Mass casualties. 

Tony Stark, missing. Presumed dead. 

Rhodey threw a fit, when they said that, a screaming raging thing that ended with him strapped back to his goddamn gurney, a needle in his arm. 

“You’ll hurt yourself,” someone said. 

He fucking hoped. 

~~ 

He stares at the night sky and he stares at the bunk above him, and he stares at the blank sky outside his plane window and the desert beyond the helicopter and the wide open sky that he’s always loved and hates now. 

Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. 

~~ 

“I heard you’re still looking,” Stane said, and Rhodey stared at him, blank and unemotional. 

The older man--Tony’s partner, Tony’s godfather, Tony’s but not Tony--smiles, oil slick and cold. “You can’t keep looking, Rhodes. There’s nothing to find.” 

Rhodey smiled, regulation sharp and precise and empty. “Sir.” 

“You’re still looking,” Pepper said, and Rhodey stared at her. Tony’s friend, red-eyed and barely held together, and he squeezed her hand. 

“Don’t stop,” she said, fiercely. 

“Ma’am,” he breathed. 

~~ 

The dust stings his eyes, and he wants to close them and he wants to scream, and he wants--

Tony. He wants Tony. 

The phone is quiet in his hand, a dead talisman. Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. 

~~ 

“You keep chasing a ghost, you’ll throw away your career,” his CO warned him and Rhodey stared into the middle distance. 

“Are you ordering me to stand down?” he asked. 

“Would you listen, if I did?” 

Twenty years and a thousand SOS calls, a thousand rescues when Tony never once needed him, and now--

His phone was quiet and still and his jaw clenched. “No, sir.” 

~~ 

“Colonel,” someone shouts, and Rhodey watches a patch of mountains explode on the radar and his heart squeezes. 

Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. 

~~ 

He didn’t sleep. 

He didn’t sleep because when he slept, he dreamt, and Tony wasn’t missing there, he was dead, a bloody broken body with so many others, and Rhodey was too late, an unanswered call. 

He didn’t sleep. 

He just hoped.

~~ 

The helicopter blades thrum and all he can hear is taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. 

They bank and search and all he can feel is taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. 

“Sir!” 

He falls out of the copter and into the sand, stumbling, and his heart goes taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. 

~~ 

Tony clutches him, sobbing silent, and his fingers dig into Rhodey’s fatigues, into his skin, and Rhodey holds him close, presses Tony’s head to his chest, and feels it. 

Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. 

He bites back his sob, and tightens his grip. 

“I’ve got you,” he breathes into filthy hair, into Tony, lips brushing over his temple. 

~~ 

Rhodey holds him, when Tony falls asleep against his chest in the chopper, heartbeat steady under his skin, and the rhythmic tapping fades away. 

He’s here. 

He’s safe. 

He’s home. 

[one-shot-plus-size]

True Love - Chapter 1

Something I published on my Wattpad account a few years ago, and now I've reworked and am publishing here. 

Imagine :

She - a 23 year old girl who loves freedom and a man who will never be hers.

He - a 47 year old actor with a life that is not quite in order.

What happens when he realizes he has the diamond under his nose that he's been looking for all his life.

Pov Olivia

- You know you shouldn't abuse him like that - Magda laughed - he should know.

- No - I shook my head - let him be a little bit more tired, he'll be surprised when he sees me at Comic Con.

- You are terrible - she laughed.

- I know - I looked at the monitor - Have I already whined to you today how I don't want to?

- I got lost on the fourth time - she leaned out from behind the monitor.

- I know - I groaned - but I just want this vacation. I know - I groaned - but I just want this holiday.

- Lucky girl - she smiled - I am already on vacation and now I have to wait for the whole year.

- It happens - I shrugged my shoulders.

- I am crazy about you, only Monday more and you finally have your vacation. And I will have three weeks of peace from whining, it's almost like a vacation.

- You're awful - I looked at her.

- I know - she laughed.

- Why am I friends with you? - I combed my hair.

- Because you love me - she laughed.

- Huh - I muttered under my breath.

The door of their office opened slightly and the manager stuck his head inside.

- Good morning, ma'am - he was smiling from ear to ear - Olivia, in an hour the sales representatives want to talk to you about pallet returns. Please prepare the statistics for last year and this year. I would also like you to identify ten customers who are difficult to work with. Can you do that?

- In an hour? - I looked at him.

- Yes, I can.

- Do I have another option? - I muttered.

- Well, as if not - he smiled from ear to ear.

- I will manage - I nodded.

- Thank you - he bowed slightly and left.

When he closed the door, I rested my head on my hands.

- I was still missing this - I muttered under my breath - 8 guys that I will have to explain myself to. I love these fucking meetings.

- Relax, as always you'll blow everyone away with your awesome personality - she laughed.

I took a deep breath, time was passing by inexorably. The hour flew by very quickly but fortunately I managed to take it all in. I left the room with my notes, notebook, pen and phone.

- Are you ready? - The manager looked at me.

- As always - I smiled.

- And I like this attitude.

We entered the conference room, at the oval table sat eight sales representatives, the sales director and the boss of all the bosses. My supervisor and I sat next to each other. I put my foot on the table and placed my phone on one of the tables, muting it first. I spread my notes on the table and prepared myself for a series of questions from the men. I glanced at Michal out of the corner of my eye and noticed how his muscles were tense. He was always stressed when he had to go to a meeting with me. He was afraid that I would spill something or suddenly explode with uncontrollable anger. Only once I couldn't control myself in front of other people. I did not tolerate and even hated when someone questioned my knowledge and my skills. I was always confident in the decisions I made and how I ran my department. I glanced at the vibrating phone at my feet, my friend's face blinking happily on the display. I smiled slightly and dismissed the call, now he was probably cursing under his breath because he disliked it so much.

Pov Norman

- I'll strangle her someday - I paced around the kitchen staring at the phone.

- Who is it this time? - Diana was sitting at the table and playing with her wine glass.

- Olivia - I muttered under my breath - she still hasn't let me know if she's coming to visit us on vacation.

- Maybe she gave up this time - she looked at me.

- Why would she do that? - I stopped in place.

- How am I supposed to know that? I'm not inside a teenager's head - this time she muttered.

- Why do I get the impression that you don't like her? - I leaned on the table with my hands.

- When Olivia is on the wallpaper of your life, I get the feeling that you're going crazy. You're walking around like you're on fire - she sighed - The inner world doesn't exist.

- I've been friends with her for five years - I looked the blonde in the eye - that's about four years longer than I've been with you. So I am so anxious for her to come and visit us because she is my friend. I see her so rarely that I'm just glad she's coming.

- Mhm - she hummed under her breath.

- Excuse me - I leaned towards her and kissed her lightly on the lips.

The woman smiled at me slightly and shook her head. I leaned against the kitchen cabinet and dialed her phone number again. As usual she didn't answer, I opened the photo gallery and opened one of our pictures together. I held her on my shoulder while she took a selfie of us. She was smiling from ear to ear. I smiled under my breath, Diane didn't see that I had this picture on my phone. I don't know why I was hiding it but it just felt like our private moment. Sometimes between filming for The Walking Dead when I had time to relax I would sit down and just stare at her picture. Last summer we were so carefree, spending two weeks traveling the country in one of my cars. The smile never left her lips, I felt free with her then. Although it happened that fans recognized me but she accepted everything with a smile. At that time you would think we were a couple but we never slept together. I knew that at the age of 47 she would never be interested in me in that way. We were 24 years apart, did I love her? I loved her like the closest person to me, but did I love her the way a man can love a woman? I wasn't sure about my feelings myself, I couldn't grasp them when I was with her. I felt simply happy with her by my side, but now I had Diana. The blonde came up to me, hugged me around the waist.

- Did she answer? - She smiled - or did she write back?

- No - I shook my head, turned off the picture and put my phone in my pocket.

I hugged her close and kissed her head.

- I'm sure I'll hear from her - she muttered, cuddling her head into my neck.

- Mhm - I smiled slightly - let's go to bed.

- Sure - she nodded.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the bedroom. This evening was going to end well after all.