#draper: chats

[rowdyluv]

say hi to apparently a new umich picture

[spockvarietyhour]

Star Trek/Mad Men Crossover where Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce is in the same building as Gary Seven's office.

[demonic0angel]

Danny ends up in Gotham with no memories of his past or ghost powers. In an attempt for more power a rouge observant weakened Clockwork with liquefied blood blossoms, sent multiple rouge ghosts through the portal to occupy the rest of team Phantom before stabbing Danny in the back with an electrified blade coated in liquefied blood blossoms as well. This forced Danny into human form as his core cracked, leading to him having amnesia.

Danny ends up working at a low rent hair salon after the owner finds him in an alley behind the shop and patches him up. He's also staying in the apartment above the salon. He doesn't get the danger when a robber tries to rob the store. Danny sits the robber down and gives him a hair cut and listens to his woes, and treats him like a normal person. He encourages him to do better.

This keeps happening and goes from petty criminals to some of the rouges. The bats are kinda freaking out when they find out that Harley and Ivy opened a therapy office and flower shop and that the Riddler opened a one hundred percent safe and legal escape room business. Tim gets sent to investigate the salon and becomes fast friends with Danny.

"So, what type of haircut are you looking for?" The boy asked, as he draped a sheet over Tim.

Tim hummed and then said in a very serious tone, "Low taper fade."

He got smacked at the back of the head for that.

"Don't you start!" The boy said, though he was laughing.

Tim pouted. "Ow!" It didn't really hurt, but he'd take whatever he could in order to make this nameless boy open up.

The boy gasped. "Oh no! I'm sorry— I was just joking! Does it hurt a lot?" He ran his hands through Tim's hair, rubbing at his scalp. The sudden touch made Tim jump before he relaxed at the massage.

Tim shook his head and said, "No, no, it's fine."

The boy leaned down to look at his face and then sighed. "Do you really want a low taper fade?"

Tim snickered. "Nah, just a trim, please."

The boy laughed. "Sure! I was worried I had to shave you bald."

Tim gasped in mock horror as the boy laughed again. They chatted some more, trading stories and making jokes until Tim finally asked, “Hey, I heard that this place gets a lot of visits from villains? Is that true?”

The boy blinked. “Villains?”

“Yeah. I heard that Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy was here. And the Riddler. And Mr. Freeze. Is it true?” He asked, trying to sound eager.

The boy chuckled. “I’m not too sure? Sometimes, people come in here and threaten to rob the store and I try to calm them down. I’m not really sure if they’re villains, I’m new.”

Tim blinked.

“… you’re new? To Gotham?” Huh. He hadn’t expected that from someone who had supposedly been able to talk down Gotham City villains.

There were a strange amount of newcomers coming to Gotham lately. Batman and the others had been hearing rumors of a red haired woman tearing up the underworld in search of something and had apparently even made contact with Red Hood.

The boy was oblivious to his thoughts and only nodded, trimming more hair. “Yeah. The owner of the salon found me after I was on the streets and then patched me up. So I’m working here to help him out.”

Tim nodded slowly.

“Say, what’s your name again?” Tim brought out his hand. “I’m Alvin. Alvin Draper.”

The boy blinked again and then smiled. He shook Tim’s hand and turned him back around to take off the protective sheet. “Daniel,” he said. “Daniel Nightingale.”

[yungbludz]

Bad News

SUMMARY: being Jannik’s sister also meant getting along well with one of his friends which is an annoying aspect to your life that Carlos had not anticipated…

warnings: smut

“Game, Set and Match Draper,”

The day of the dreaded semifinal. You couldn’t sleep next to your brother. When you showed up to his room unannounced you didn’t have a believable lie to tell him so you opted for the truth. He was taken aback a little because it was a decision made out of the blue for him. You stated you didn’t want to discuss it and he let you be. But when you moved restlessly in bed you really wished you had someone to talk to.

You had clicked on Jack’s number a couple of times, debating if texting him at 2 am the night before a big match was a good idea. You eventually talked yourself out of it. Knowing Jack he would have told you to come over but even if you did disturb his sleeping, what were you going to tell him? That you broke up with Carlos? And when he would ask why? Then what? No, it wasn’t a good decision.

The following morning you slept in. Jannik had pulled out the tournament two days ago but decided to prolong his stay to watch the semifinal. You woke up to a couple of texts from him telling you he was having breakfast and then about three messages from Jack.

From: Jack

I couldn’t sleep last night. I guess I missed our chat

From: Jack

But I’ll see you later, right?

From: Jack

I know you’ll cheer for Carlos but you’ll celebrate later with me ;)

You groaned in your pillow as you felt your insides twist. What the fuck was going on? You were confused. Amidst all these confusing feelings, you decided to get up and get ready for the day. You dreaded the semifinal match because it meant watching the two men who had been giving you a headache for the past month fight it out. Jack still didn’t know you and Carlos weren’t together anymore but it wouldn’t have taken him too long to find out.

The match was going to be held around two in the afternoon. Therefore you spent the morning prepping yourself for the inevitable. You knew Carlos was the favored player, he had won this twice before and he had confessed multiple times he liked playing here. But Jack was the underdog. Even if he shouldn’t have been because he was bringing a high level of tennis on court and you knew Carlos had already struggled before against him. Of course you wanted your boyfriend— well, ex boyfriend to win this again but you also cared for Jack and you knew this would matter a lot to him.

When the clock hit the set time, you found yourself looking for your seat in Carlos’ box. Despite the break up, you didn’t want to draw any attention by not showing up. You sat behind the team, to the side. The stadium was packed with fans. Most of them seemed to be rooting for Carlos but you could people call Jack’s name out too. You could feel your throat close up as they began to warm up and you knew right away this would be a tough match. Carlos spotted you first. He smiled and winked at you before focusing back on his game. Then Jack shot you a glance. He didn’t show any particular emotion— he wasn’t much of a shower on court— and then looked away. You sighed.

May the best win…

“Game, set and match Draper!”

That was… unexpected. To say the least. You didn’t doubt Jack’s ability to play well but you were surprised by Carlos. He hadn’t played at his usual level. You watched as they shook hands at the net and then Carlos quickly packed his bag before walking off court. Were you supposed to follow him? Or should you have let him be? You weren’t his girlfriend anymore but you still felt very much connected to him.

You opted to leave him be. After what you had said the night before, what was the point of following him? You were most likely the last person he wanted to see in that moment and rightfully so. Therefore, you stayed put and walked out when Jack was over with his speech. You tried to find your brother amidst the crowd of people who worked for the tournament and other players’ teams.

“Came to congratulate me?” You recognized the voice immediately. You turned around and spotted a drenched in sweat Jack Draper. He was just about to go cool down because he was still holding his bags.

“Busted. Congrats,” you grinned.

“Thanks. Where’s Jannik? I thought I had seen him out there,” he asked taking a look around. You had no idea.

“I was looking for him too,” you replied and tried to spot a tall redhead in the swarm of people running around the halls. You were a little afraid to see Carlos. Last thing you wanted was for him to see you and Jack talk.

“Never mind. I’ll see him later. Will you stay here for the final? Or will you have to leave with your boyfriend tomorrow?” He asked pushing his hair back. You gulped at the word boyfriend. If only he knew…

“No, I think I’ll stay with Jannik. His best friend is kinda playing the final,” you joked and he chuckled. He brought his right hand to scratch his neck. Some of his fingers were taped up and you could tell he was growing out a little bit of beard.

“I’m just your brother’s best friend now?” He asked with a smirk. Here we go.

“You’re an acquaintance of mine too,” you teased and he shook his head amused. You didn’t want to waste any more of his time since he probably had places to be but Jack didn’t seem to be too concerned. He kept chatting with you about nothing. As if he didn’t have interviews to attend and as if his team wasn’t waiting for him in the cooldown room.

“Damn, we are still acquaintances? And I wanted to take you out after the final,”

Oh?

Jack saw the look of confusion and panic on your face and immediately added:

“You and Jannik of course. Sorry, it came out wrong,” you could see his cheeks grow redder by the second and you chuckled embarrassed.

“Of course. But you have a final to win first, no?” You teased him and he nodded, silently agreeing with you. This little conversation of yours came to an end when one of his team found him chatting instead of cooling down and he had to eventually leave.

You sighed as if you had been holding your breath for the entire conversation. It felt weird to be talking to him after last night. You still hadn’t told Jack about your situation with Carlos because you feared what that would mean for your relationship. Would things change if Jack knew? Would your situation dissolve now that it wasn’t forbidden anymore?

As you pulled out your phone to finally call your brother and find out where he had gone, you noticed a few unread messages from Carlos.

From: Carlitos

Gracias para haber venido al partido

No te voy a molestar más porque respeto tu decisión

Espero verte temprano x

Fuck my life. You thought to yourself as you locked your phone and headed out to go back to the hotel and drown your sorrows in room service.

What the fuck am I doing?

Day of the final.

Draper vs Rune.

Jannik had convinced you to come sit with him in Jack’s box. You didn’t want to draw any attention to yourself by sitting in another man’s box but at the same time you didn’t have much of an option. It was either this or watching on tv and as much as you didn’t want rumors to start circulating, you also wanted to show Jack your support. It was a major title he was going to play for and he needed you. He had made that very obvious.

You had replied to Carlos’ texts but he kept his word and didn’t initiate any conversation. You were glad. Not because you didn’t want to hear from him but because if you had decided to try this new path, him being in the back of your mind every single moment of your day wasn’t the ideal solution. You missed him. Of course you did. It was weird waking up to Jannik rather than Carlos. Although you loved your brother, you missed your boyfriend.

“Rune is a tough guy but I think Jack has good chances of winning,” Jannik said before the match began. You nodded in agreement and sat back, ready to watch the show.

6-2, 6-2.

Court 1 exploded with a loud roaring applause from the audience. Jack let go of his racket and raised his fists to the sky and smiled. He had done it. He had won it.

You raised to your feet clapping your hands so quickly and loudly they started to itch and hurt but you didn’t care. To think he wanted to pull out of the tournament just a few days ago and now he was standing there as its new champion. The ceremony went by in a heartbeat. Holger congratulated him on his win and then Jack went ahead to thank his team and family for the support. You could see the joy in his eyes, the excitement, the pride. You could see how much it meant to him.

The rest of the afternoon unfolded chaotically. You didn’t get to see Jack until he was released from the journalists and the photographers. He dragged his trophy around as if it was his newborn and he could not stop smiling every time he glanced at it.

By the time he was free, it was around dinner time. You only got to congratulate him quickly before you all went to change into something more fancy. Jack had insisted you and Jannik came to the party. It was his way of showing he appreciated your support.

“Looking good, Draper,” Jannik teased him once you all met out in the hall. He was wearing a white button up and black jeans. You didn’t reminisce ever seeing him put on anything different from a Nike sweater and its sweats. His hair had grown a little from when he had arrived here in California and so had his beard. It wasn’t too long, just a stubble.

Yes, he did look good.

“Y/N,” Jack acknowledged your presence. You smiled and stepped closer. He didn’t even try to hide the obvious staring when he took in what you were wearing: a black skirt with a red blouse and some heels. Nothing extravagant but definitely different from what he had usually seen you wearing.

“Easy there. She’s still my sister,” Jannik slapped the back of his head and urged him to go outside where the rest of the team was waiting. You felt a sudden rush of blood to your cheeks. You walked behind them trying to look normal.

“Here’s the champion!” His coach cheered and you could see Jack smile embarrassed. The ride to the restaurant was one of the most awkward ones. You were in a uber with a bunch of people you did not know. Jack introduced you both to his family but you still felt like a stranger. When you arrived to the place you found a group of guys right outside the entrance.

“Jack Draper, the man, the champion!”

“No way!” It turned out the group of random men was just Jack’s friends from home. Great. You watched as he hugged all of them. They seemed like normal guys but you still did not love to be surrounded by an all men group.

You stuck by Jannik’s side until you were seated and found out you were right across from him and between two of Jack’s friends. You were beginning to question your decision to come here. Maybe what you and Jack wanted was just a little bubble that was meant to burst.

“Hello, my name is—“

“Get up,” before one of his friends could finish his introduction, you heard Jack speak up. He tapped on the man’s shoulder and motioned for him to move.

“For once you have a cute friend and I can’t even shoot my shot,” you heard the friend complain under his breath as he stood up. Jack chuckled and took his seat next to you.

“Sorry. They mixed the seating up,” Jack explained. You frowned and questioned the sincerity of his words but you were glad to have a familiar face next to you. You knew Jack was going to have a busy night with all the guests but at least he was there with you.

“It’s alright. Your friend seemed… friendly,” you tried to be polite and Jack noticed.

“Yeah, I know he’s… He likes to hit on pretty girls. I’m sorry,” he apologized blushing silently.

“You think I’m pretty?” You teased him. Thankfully Jannik wasn’t paying much attention to you because he would have definitely side eyed the two of you. Jack chuckled embarrassed scratched the back of his head.

“I thought I had made it very clear,” he stated glancing at you. His eyes looked even clearer than usual. They were hazel. Just like Carlos’. Oh for fucksake… Soon enough his attention was stolen by one of his friends who stood up to do a toast.

What was that silly and inappropriate thought you had just had? Thinking of Carlos and comparing them. Embarrassing.

You let one of the waiters pour you a generous glass of wine. If you had to get through this night, you had to do it at least tipsy. The first courses came after a few minutes. Jack stood up a few times to go around and talk to guests. Jannik was engrossed in a conversation with Jack’s cousin— at least you thought, you couldn’t quite remember what kind of relativity there was. Seeing your brother in action right in front of you was definitely something you hadn’t expected.

“Is this your girl, Jack? Oh she’s pretty!” You almost choked on your wine as you turned your head around. A woman in her fifties was approaching you with Jack. You could see Jack’s already flushed cheeks turn even redder.

“No, auntie, she’s a friend,” Jack immediately explained. His aunt nodded but the knowing smirk didn’t leave her lips. Nonetheless you introduced yourself to be polite.

“Y/N, beautiful name. Well, I’ll leave you guys be,” she winked at you and headed back to her seat. Jack sunk in his seat and grabbed his glass of wine. You could tell he was tense and embarrassed.

“You’re way too tense for a champ,” you tried to ease the tension. He grinned and chugged down his glass of wine.

“What about you? Are you enjoying the evening so far? I hope Carlos didn’t mind that you came here,” it downed on you in that exact moment that he had no idea what had happened.

“Well, Carlos and I aren’t together anymore,” you dropped the bomb. Jack took a moment to fully understand your words but when he did the look on his face was indescribable.

“What?”

“Yeah,”

“Sorry, sorry… I just— I didn’t expect it. How are you?” He asked immediately after. You debated whether or not you should have told him what really went down. What would have been his reaction?

“I’m okay. He didn’t really appreciate our friendship… I broke things off because I…” you stopped yourself mid sentence because you weren’t sure how to phrase it. Because I can’t stop thinking about fucking you? Would it be too crude? Definitely but alcohol was slowly getting to your head. An embarrassed giggle left your lips and Jack furrowed his brows.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” He asked confused.

“No, you are fine,” you replied and crossed your legs. Doing so the hem of your dress rode up your thigh and exposed more skin. The little move didn’t go unnoticed by Jack who readily and delicately pulled it back down.

“Sorry, I just—“ he apologized when he realized how inappropriate it was to touch you without your permission but you rested your hand on top of his before he could take it off. The Brit looked at you attempting to decipher your move.

“You can touch me, you know?” You teased him. He shook his head and bit his bottom lip trying to hide a smile.

“I wouldn’t want to take advantage of your situation,” he replied. For a moment you both forgot where you were and just how many people were around you and the fact that they could see you.

“I want you to take advantage of me,”

Bomb dropped.

You could see Jack’s Adam apple bob up and down as he registered your bold words. Wow. Did you really just say that?

You stared at each other for a few seconds. Your eyes spoke louder than your mouths could ever. There was so much left unsaid and not enough time to say it all. Jack’s hand was still on your thigh but this time you took yours off it to test him. He didn’t budge. He kept it there, his fingers squeezed it gently and you could already feel yourself grow aroused.

“What’s wrong with you two? You looked like you have just seen a ghost,” Jannik knew how to ruin the mood. You cleared your throat and turned to face him although Jack didn’t take his hand off from your thigh and when you tried to cross your legs under the table to sit straight he pushed them open again. Oh.

“Nothing. I see you got to know my cousin Jenna well,” the Brit distracted your brother from the fact that you were eye fucking each other. You sipped on your water while you listened to the two of them talk about his cousin. But your attention was actually on something else: his hand. His fingers caressed your inner thigh and you knew you were playing a dangerous game. But you hadn’t felt this alive in a while so you were down to play along.

“You think I can be her type?” Jannik asked Jack. You almost laughed at him but pulled it together because you didn’t want to be rude. You watched as Jack answered your brother while you grabbed his hand from beneath the table and inched it closer to where you wanted him, to where you had wanted him to be for a while now. Jack coughed and shot you a glance. He didn’t expect that. You smiled at him feigning innocence.

“I think Jannik can totally be her type, no Jack?” You teased him. He was a bit lost and taken aback by your action. He didn’t know what he was in for and it was endearing to see him struggle so visibly.

“Totally,” he replied gulping.

“Shh she’s coming back,” Jannik’s attention was once again on someone else. You were playing with fire but you liked the burn anyway. Once your brother started speaking to Jenna again, the British turned around but before he could even say anything you stood up.

“Gotta go to the restroom, excuse me,” you walked away. To say Jack was baffled was an understatement. He was confused, horny and surrounded by his family and friends. He watched as you disappeared around the corner then he waited a few seconds and followed you. Were you giving him a sign? Or was he thinking with his dick? He didn’t care.

You were staring into the mirror when the door opened. You smiled once you recognized him. You had him wrapped around your finger and it felt good. Jack stood behind you, waiting for your next move.

“The stalls are empty if you have to go,” you turned around and started to walk away but stopped in your tracks when you stood in front of him. He looked down at you with lustful eyes.

“I think you dropped these,” you grinned as you stuffed your panties in his front pocket and proceeded to walk away when suddenly you were stopped in your tracks by his hand around your wrist. Bingo.

“You think you can tease me like that out there, give me these and letting me know you’re not wearing anything under this dress and expect me to be fine? Y/N, I have tried to be a gentleman but you test every fucking limit of mine,” he muttered. You didn’t turn around but you could feel by the warmth radiating off his body that he was close. He was behind you.

“I never asked you to be a gentleman,” you replied sassily. It was his last straw. Jack spun you around and erased the distance between you and the door to lock it.

“I wanted to wait. I wanted it to be special but you are asking for it,” the raspiness in his voice had you losing your mind. You exchanged a quick look before his lips finally smashed against yours. The kiss represented your relationship: forbidden, needy, illicit and crude. Jack chased your lips like a starving man. His hand on your neck, gently tilting your head back and the other one on your hip. While you held onto his shoulders and threaded your fingers through his locks. You tugged at his hair instinctively, earning a low growl from him that vibrated against your lips. His mouth moved over yours with a desperate rhythm—impatient, rough, but full of something heavier than lust. Like he’d been thinking about this moment far longer than he’d ever admit.

Your back met the cold surface of the wall behind you, the chill barely registering against the heat between your bodies. Jack pressed in closer, his chest rising and falling rapidly against yours. One of his hands tightened the grip around your neck, fingertips brushing over your skin in a way that made you gasp softly into his mouth.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured, pulling away just enough to look into your eyes, his breath hot against your lips. “Do you even know what you do to me?”

His thumb caressed your jaw as he spoke, the other hand tightening its grip on your waist. You didn’t have to answer—your kiss, your touch, the tremble in your voice when you whispered his name—it said enough. Too much, maybe.

“I can feel it,” you teased nodding towards the bulge in his pants. He chuckled lowly but this time he didn’t blush embarrassed.

“And what are you going to do about it?” He flirted back. You simply tilted your head to the side and grinned at him before switching positions so that he was the one against the door. Then you fell to your knees. You could see it in his eyes he hadn’t seen this coming. Your fingers quickly unbuckled his belt— maybe even too rapidly, too eagerly. He watched your every move attentively.

When you pulled down his pants, you were instantly met with the bulge in his white boxers. You looked up at him, batted your eyelashes as your lips ghosted over him. Jack gulped and clenched his jaw.

“Don’t tease me, Y/N,” he asked— no, begged you. And who were you to deny the champion a proper celebration? Your fingers slowly rolled down his boxers as well. He was hard, big and leaking. Just the perfect dessert after two full courses. Jack bit his bottom lip and cursed under his breath when you wrapped your hand around him.

“Fuck,” he grunted when you traced the big pulsing vein on the side of his cock with your tongue. If he was dreaming, he didn’t want to be woken up. You were there, on your knees, ready to suck him off as if it was all you ever wanted to. And he had to refrain himself from coming undone in seconds.

“Shit,” he cursed again when your lips wrapped around his tip. You were teasing but he couldn’t bring himself to call you out. It felt good. Too good. You sucked on the tip, watching as his legs trembled and he tilted his head back against the door. You smiled to yourself and took more of him in your mouth. He cursed every other seconds, a few praises rolling off his tongue.

“Oh good fuck,” he groaned when his tip reached the back of your throat. From there on you started to bob your head, sometimes gagging when it was too much but never stopping. His hand soon found its spot on your head, guiding you but never pushing you down.

“Y/N… Fuck, slow down or I’m gonna— fuck,” he could barely look at you without feeling like he was going to cum right there. You looked gorgeous with his cock stuffed in your mouth. A vision he wanted to burn into his eyelids.

“Fuck, fuck,” he kept cursing while you jerked what couldn’t fit in your mouth. He was close. You could tell by how his cock twitched in your mouth. So you slowed down. You wanted to savor this. He sighed and watched as you continued to jerk him off.

“Going to cum, Jack? Tell me, how bad do you want to cum?” You were being mean and he loved it. He nodded, his brows furrowed as he begged you with his eyes.

“Please,”

“Please what?” You needed words.

“Please let me cum,” he begged breathlessly. He could feel he was teetering over the edge and he couldn’t take much more of this teasing. You bit your lip and left a quick kiss to his tip before taking him back into your warm mouth. He didn’t last long indeed.

All you needed was to hollow your cheeks, sink your nails in his naked thighs and gagged a little and he was coming undone down your throat. You tried to swallow it all but it was a lot so it ended up dribbling down your lips and chin.

“Fucking hell,” Jack was spent. He was ready to die for his sins. You had just sucked the life out of him and he could die happily. You stood up and pulled his boxers back on. A silly giggle left your lips when he sighed and shook his head in disbelief.

“I think I just died,” he stated with a chuckle. You grabbed his chin and tilted his head forward so that he would look at you in the eye. He was spent yet so ready to comply with whatever you needed him to do.

Your thumb brushed gently across his bottom lip. “You’re still here,” you whispered, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Barely.”

His gaze softened, half-lidded but locked on yours. “If this is the afterlife, I’m not complaining.”

You chuckled, leaning in just enough for your breath to ghost over his skin. “Don’t go getting dramatic on me now.”

“I’m at your mercy,” he murmured, letting his hands rest on your hips as if grounding himself.

“Good,” you said, tilting your head. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

His breath hitched, anticipation flickering behind his tired eyes. You could feel the tension coil again—soft, electric. You weren’t done with him just yet.

[donkoogrr]

I think Tim's Alvin Draper persona is underutilized by fanfic authors when it comes to comedic potential.

And by that I mean I desperately need to inspire a smattering of fics that have Alvin being the Gotham Underworld's Pet Bisexual Disaster.

Everyone knows Alvin. Somehow. He's a familiar figure, been doing freelance work for years. He's always on the fringes of the Big Leagues, but never seems to have the ambition or the brains to go further. Mostly he runs messages for ol' Matches Malone, yeah, but if you've got something unique to offload or are looking to hire for a job, Alvin has an Ex.

Good Gotham, Alvin always seems to be getting into the dumbest romantic trouble. He's like a discount Bruce Wayne, all himbo with connections. He'll show up to pass on a message or to make a drop and with just a nudge Alvin will talk about his Ex who left The Business and became an actress. Or the one who had the worst luck with being mind-controlled. Or the Ex who was dead-but-not-really and hiding from the government.

Goons will find him wandering down lair corridors where he's definitely not supposed to be and they'll gently escort him out while he tells them all about his New Girl/Boyfriend who texted him this address to meet him at! Except he got the numbers mixed up, do you think he still has a chance after accidentally standing them up? He really feels a connection this time, they met while defacing the same LexCo billboard.

Or he'll be in a base to deliver a message and get distracted because he'll recognize an old associate, or a friend of a friend, and he'll stop to chat. He'll even jump in to give someone a hand with a task when he's waiting for a reply! Such a weird kid. It's hard not to like the little shit though.

[wardenparker]

At the Ballet

Joel Miller x female reader A PedroStories Secret Santa Gift!

Rating: General audience, but please remember that this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: Cursing, one that got away, slight angst from yearning. Summary: When Tommy's girlfriend gets tickets to the ballet, Sarah is excited to attend. But Joel never could have expected who he would find there, or that he would find himself grateful for a night at at the ballet. Notes: Happy PedroStories Secret Santa 2024 to @pascalispretty! I hope your holiday season is lovely and bright, and that you enjoy your story! Swan Lake was one of the first ballets I ever saw, so that really stuck in my mind, and I loved the idea of Joel finding his way to the arts because Sarah loves them.

“I don’t understand why the hell we’re doing this.” Joel grumbled, inspecting himself in the mirror as Tommy tossed his well-loved plaid flannel back onto the bed and put a sports jacket into his hands instead.

“Because she’s my girlfriend.” Tommy reminded him for the fourteen time.

“Okay, fine.” Joel huffed. He rolled his eyes at the jacket and hung it on the nearest piece of furniture, wondering if he even had a clean button-down shirt in his closet. “I don’t understand why I’m doing this.”

“Because you’re my fucking brother.” Tommy shot back. He’s actually got a real tie on, not a clip on or a bolo, and he’s trying so damn hard for this girl. “And because Sarah is excited to go. So finish getting dressed, you grumpy ass, and I’ll buy you a drink at the theater.”

“You should have led with that.” He’s busting his brother’s chops, but it’s worth doing. Tommy’s girlfriend has been around long enough that she’s been introduced to Sarah and started coming over for dinner semi-regularly, and she had somehow gotten ahold of four tickets to the ballet. Sarah had been thrilled at the news and immediately started planning what she was going to wear and begging her Dad and uncle to take them all out to dinner as well.

And, well, Joel Miller has never been able to deny his daughter anything in the world.

It’s with that in mind that Joel is begrudgingly cleaning himself up tonight. Because his little girl is down the hall putting on a dressed and doing her hair, and she looked so damn much like her mother when he had passed her room earlier that it had made his heart ache. Anything for Sarah. Anything at all.

Ballet Austin is a little bit of a drive away since they live on the edge of the city, but he doesn’t mind. Of anything, Joel actually does like driving. It gives him a sense of peace. Or at least it usually does – right now Sarah, Tommy, and Tommy’s girlfriend Sonja are chatting animatedly about the show that they are all going to see. Swan Lake apparently has a hard plot to follow, if he’s overhearing this right. Or maybe it’s just that ballets have no dialogue. Either way, he doesn’t really care. He’s going for all of them to enjoy themselves, not to understand what the hell is going on onstage.

At least, that was what he thought.

He had never expected to open the program in his seat and see you there. Clear as day, though, your photograph and name with the character name Odile were listed right there on the page listing principal dancers.

Suddenly, Joel is the biggest ballet convert in the world.

There is plenty of good reason for it, though. More than just being you, the dancing is gorgeous. Not that he doesn’t remember what a good dancer you were when you were younger. Teaching him how not to embarrass himself at the homecoming dance. Doing the choreography from Footloose and goofing off instead of playing whatever sport was supposed to be the assignment in gym class.

He knew you had taken dance classes, but he had never really bothered to find out more. To ask what kind. To pay some damn attention and get to know you better. He should have been so much better. He knew it even then, which is why he could do nothing but kick himself in the pants when Alex Draper asked you out at the beginning of junior year of high school before he could summon up the courage.

That was the year Sarah’s mother had moved to town, and he had started dating the new girl instead. The whole thing stank of what might have been.

******

Sarah begs Joel to take her to the stage door after the show, hoping to meet some of the dancers and tell them how amazing their performance was. She’s always liked theater and this wouldn’t be the first time that he took her to a stage door, but the chance that he might run into you has him smoothing his shirt and straightening his tie and practically thanking Tommy for forcing him to dress nicely.

“What’s got Joel so self-conscious?” Sonja whispered from the top of the alley where she and Tommy waited and cuddled in the dim streetlight.

“You accidentally managed to lead him right to the first girl he ever loved.” Tommy whispers back, chuckling quietly into her shoulder as he leaves a kiss on her neck. “One of the dancers that Sarah wants to meet so desperately.”

“And we’re back here?” Sonja huffs. She smirks and nudges Tommy, obviously trying to point him down the alley. “Joel Miller as a boy in love? I gotta see this.”

Sarah is, in point of fact, the only fan at this stage door tonight. And while Joel hates that on principle because it means that she doesn’t really have anyone to share her unbridled enthusiasm with, he’s also glad. Her presence there is delighting the dancers and every single one of them is stopping to sign her program and take a photo with her, all of them giving her a big hug in the process.

The young woman who danced Odette is lingering, seemingly waiting for something or someone, or maybe just enjoying the attention, when the stage door opens again, and you walk through.

“Sweetie, come over here!” Odette calls, waving you over. This is what she was waiting for, apparently, and her smile beams as she introduces young Sarah Miller to the dancer she became so enamored with during the show.

It really isn’t too often that you’re asked to sign programs, and you are beyond flattered to have Sarah ask for an autograph and a photo. You stand and chat with the young teen for a few minutes before even registering that she is young enough that she should have chaperones nearby, and that is when you look up to find him staring at you.

“Joel?” It has been almost fifteen years since you saw him last. Since your high school graduation day. But you would still recognize him anywhere.

“Hey.” His hands are in his pockets, but he still has that lopsided grin and perfect single dimple that made all the girls swoon. He still aims it like a weapon, always able to make the whoever he was talking to feel like the only person in the room.

“Hey yourself.” The warmth in your cheeks is unmistakable, and for good reason. Joel Miller didn’t just grow up good, he grew up damn sexy.

“Dad, you know her?” Sarah wheels around with a bright, excited look on her face.

“Dad?” Your eyebrow is raised, but you do remember hearing about Joel getting married shortly after high school, and something vague about him having a kid. Your mother had given you the news she heard while out grocery shopping one day. Just the same way that she had given you the news a year or two later when that same habit of grocery store eavesdropping yielded the news that Joel was now single again after a nasty divorce.

“This is my daughter, Sarah.” He introduces her proudly, both hands on her shoulders and a puffed up chest saying more than simple words ever could about how much he adores his little girl. He introduces you to Sarah next, explaining you used to be friends in school. “She—we— really loved the show tonight.”

“Well, thank you. Everyone in the cast is just incredible.”

“Yeah, you are!” Sarah chirps, her eyes wide as she looks between you and her father. “Dad! You should invite your friend to come have ice cream with us!”

Joel’s smile grows, tucking into the corner of his mouth like a secret, but he lobs that fastball of an offer back to you politely. “I’m sure she has other things to do tonight, honey. Maybe another time, sweetie.” He doesn’t want to say no. He can feel his heart hammering out of his chest and he wonders how you managed to get even more beautiful when you were already the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his whole life.

Looking back to your friends, you lend them a quick smile before facing Joel again and shaking your head. “Not at all,” you tell him – both of them, technically. “Free as a bird.”

Your smile grows, and Sarah matches it. “Free as a swan,” she insists.

“Right.” Joel joins in that laugh, air rushing out of his chest as he gets nervous all over again. “Free as a swan.”

He’s not going to fuck it up this time. He’s not. He’s not going to let you slip through his fingers a second time…

[lifeofpriya]

Lessons and Kisses - Jack Draper

[gif credit goes to @pyotrkochetkov]

a/n: this was inspired by @pyotrkochetkov and i's chat about what jack would be like when he's teaching his partner tennis 🥺😩

summary: while trying to teach you tennis, Jack's attention is constantly drawn away and struggles to keep his eyes on the ball and his heart on the game...

"Jack, I swear, I can't hit this ball to save my life," you say, laughing as the yellow sphere sails past you once again.

Jack chuckles and strides over to you, his footsteps echoing gently on the pristine clay court. "You're overthinking it, that's all. Just like when you worry about work or what to wear on our dates." He takes the racket from your hand and demonstrates a smooth, practiced swing. The air whispers as the ball zooms towards the opposite end of the court. "It's all about muscle memory and not psyching yourself out."

You watch him, the way his muscles ripple under the sun-kissed skin, the determination etched into his features. "Easy for you to say," you reply, your voice laden with playful sarcasm. "You've been playing since you were a toddler."

Jack smirks, his eyes never leaving yours. "And you've been captivating people since you were born." He gently places the racket back in your hand. "Now, let's try this again. Remember, watch the ball, keep your eyes on it, and swing when it's right in front of you."

You nod, trying to focus on the lesson, but the warmth of his touch lingers. The scent of freshly cut grass and his subtle cologne fills your senses, making it difficult to think about anything else. The sun casts a soft glow on his medium brown hair as he takes his position opposite you. The light breeze whispers through the leaves of the trees surrounding the court, carrying the distant sound of a dog barking.

Jack serves the ball. You take a deep breath, willing yourself to concentrate. The racket feels heavier than before, as if it's a part of you now. You watch the ball intently, tracking its path through the air. Just as Jack instructed, you swing when it's perfectly aligned with your body. For a moment, time seems to slow down, the only sound the rhythmic thwack of the ball connecting with the strings.

The ball sails over the net and lands with a soft thud on the other side, bouncing just within the lines. "Yes!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of excitement. You've hit it correctly.

You see the delight spread across Jack's face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's it," he says, clapping. "You're a natural."

Emboldened, you serve the next ball. It's not perfect, but it's better than your first few attempts. Jack returns it with ease, his movements fluid and precise. The back-and-forth dance of the tennis ball becomes a mesmerizing rhythm, one that you're slowly starting to follow. Each swing feels more natural, and with each hit, your confidence grows.

"Good," he says, his voice filled with genuine encouragement. "Now, let's work on your backhand."

Jack approaches the net, his eyes never leaving yours. He tosses you a new ball, which you catch with surprising ease. The fuzzy sphere feels warm from the sun and slightly damp from the sweat on your palms. You take your stance, feeling the cool shade of the court's edge brush against your skin. He demonstrates the backhand technique, his racket carving a graceful arc through the air.

"Your turn," he says, stepping back and giving you space.

You toss the ball up, the sun glinting off it as it reaches its peak. Your heart races as you try to replicate the motion he's shown you. The ball comes down, and you swing, feeling the sweet spot of the racket connect. The ball sails over the net, and Jack nods approvingly. It's not perfect, but the thrill of improvement sends a jolt through your veins.

"Better," he says, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Now, let's add a bit of power to it."

Jack stands closer, his presence a comforting warmth as he adjusts your grip. His fingers are firm yet gentle, sending a shiver down your spine. "Keep your wrist firm and pivot your body when you hit it," he coaches, his voice low and reassuring.

You try again, focusing on his instructions. This time, when the ball meets your racket, there's a satisfying crack, and the ball zooms across the court. It's not as precise as Jack's shots, but the power behind it surprises both of you. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Not bad," he says, his eyes gleaming. "But let's work on your footwork."

Jack hits a series of balls toward you, forcing you to move side to side, your sneakers squeaking on the court. His eyes are sharp, watching your every move, analyzing your technique. Each time you hit the ball, his feedback is immediate and precise, pushing you to be better. Despite the heat of the day, you feel invigorated, the challenge of the lesson invigorating your spirit.

As you practice, you become increasingly aware of Jack's gaze. It's not just focused on your form; it's as if he's trying to read your every thought. You stumble slightly on a shot, and he's there, his hand steadying you.

"Woah there, partner," Jack says with a laugh, catching you before you topple over. His hand lingers on your arm, his thumb brushing against your skin. You blush, the heat from the sun and his touch mixing into an intoxicating warmth. "You're getting better, but don't let your enthusiasm trip you up."

He steps back, giving you a playful nudge with his racket. "Now, let's focus on your footwork." He hits a slow, lobbing shot over the net, which you manage to return, albeit awkwardly. "Good," he says, nodding. "But remember, speed and agility are key in tennis. It's like a dance, you know?"

Jack starts to hit the ball closer to the net, making you run forward to meet it. You feel clumsy at first, your feet stumbling over themselves, but gradually you find your rhythm. The soft thump of the ball on the clay and the squeak of your shoes become a symphony of effort and improvement. Each step feels lighter, more coordinated. The scent of the court fills your nostrils, mixing with the faint smell of Jack's deodorant. It's a smell you've come to associate with excitement and challenge.

"Jack! Focus, will you?" You laugh, swiping a strand of hair out of your face as you watch him stare at you with a glazed look.

Jack snaps out of his daze. "What? Oh, right, the lesson." He chuckles, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "Sorry, you're just…distracting."

You roll your eyes, but your heart skips a beat at the compliment. "Keep it professional, Draper," you tease, but the smolder in his gaze tells you he's not entirely joking.

Jack clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Alright, let's practice volleys," he says, his voice slightly huskier than before. He moves closer to the net, his eyes locked on yours, challenging you to match his intensity.

You approach the net, feeling the tension in the air thicken. Each step is deliberate, your heart racing as much from the exercise as from the electricity between you. The sun is now high in the sky, casting a warm embrace over the court, the shadows of the surrounding trees stretching lazily. You watch as Jack hits a ball towards you, its trajectory perfect for a volley. You lunge forward, your racket poised, and hit the ball back with a solid thwack.

Jack's eyes widen slightly as the ball sails back over the net. "Impressive," he murmurs, a hint of surprise in his voice.

The subsequent few volleys are a blur of motion and adrenaline. Your reflexes sharpen as you anticipate his moves, and the air crackles with energy. You can feel your muscles warming up, your breath coming in quick gasps as you push yourself to keep up with Jack's skill. Despite the seriousness of the lesson, there's a playfulness to it, a flirty challenge in every exchange.

Jack's shots become faster, more unpredictable, and you find yourself leaning into the game, your body moving almost on its own. You're not just trying to hit the ball; you're trying to impress him. And with each successful volley, his eyes light up brighter, his smile broader.

The sound of your rackets colliding with the ball echoes through the quiet afternoon air, punctuated by the occasional bird call or rustle of leaves. You're both sweating now, your skin glistening in the sun, your clothes sticking to your bodies. But you're in the zone, lost in the rhythm of the game, the thrill of competition, and the undeniable pull between you.

Jack's eyes never leave yours, his concentration unwavering as he feeds you ball after ball. The air feels charged with something more than just the physical exertion of the game. Each hit feels like a silent conversation, a dance of attraction and challenge. Your heart beats in time with the thump of the tennis balls, and you can't help but notice the way his shirt clings to his chest as he moves.

"What do you say we make this a little more interesting?" Jack suggests, his eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing a line of sweat across his skin. "If I win this next point, I get a kiss," he says, raising the stakes.

You laugh, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "And if I win?"

Jack grins, his dimples deepening. "Whatever you want."

The tension shifts, the air charged with a new kind of excitement. You line up for the next volley, your heart racing. He serves the ball, and you watch it closely, timing your jump just right. As you make contact, you feel the perfect combination of power and precision, sending the ball back to Jack's side of the court. He's caught off guard, and it hits the net.

"My serve," you say with a smug smile, stepping back to catch your breath.

Jack nods, his eyes still on yours, the playful glint not fading. "Alright, but remember, no holding back."

You serve the ball, feeling the heat of his gaze as it flies over the net. He returns it swiftly, and you're back in the rhythm, your bodies moving in sync despite the competitive banter. The ball slices through the air, a blur of yellow against the blue sky. You both dive for it, your rackets colliding in a flurry of motion.

As you both straighten up, the air between you thick with anticipation, the ball hits the net and drops to the ground. "Match point," you say, panting slightly.

Jack's grin widens, and he nods, raising his racket in a salute. "Alright, one more. Let's make it count."

You serve again, the ball spinning through the air, a blur of yellow against the vibrant green of the surrounding trees. Jack leaps into action, his racket slicing through the air with a sharp crack. The ball zooms back at you, and you return it with a volley, your body moving almost on instinct. The ball goes back and forth, both of you pushing your limits, the air around you electric with anticipation.

As you watch the ball come towards you for what feels like the final time, you know you have to give it everything you've got. You lean in, your muscles tensing, and hit it with all the power and finesse you can muster. It sails over the net and lands just inside the line. "Match," you declare, breathless and triumphant.

Jack laughs, shaking his head. "I didn't see that one coming." His smile is genuine, the kind that makes your stomach do somersaults. He steps closer, and you can feel the warmth of his body. "Looks like I owe you one," he says, his eyes dropping to your lips.

You lean in slightly, the anticipation building like the crescendo of a symphony.

"What'll it be?" He asks, his voice low and teasing. You feel the heat of his breath against your cheek, and for a moment, you're lost in his eyes, a swirl of hazel that seems to hold a universe of secrets and promises.

"A kiss," you reply, your voice a whisper, the challenge in your eyes matching his.

Jack's smile turns into a full-blown grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He takes a step closer, and you can feel the warmth of his body as he leans in. His breath mingles with yours. The world seems to hold its breath around you, the only sound the distant chirp of a bird and the thud of your racing hearts.

As your lips meet, the intensity of the moment hits you like a perfect ace. It's a kiss filled with the passion of the game, the sweet taste of victory, and the undeniable attraction that's been building since the lesson began.

Jack's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and you melt into the embrace. The rackets clatter to the ground, forgotten as you lose yourself in the kiss. His lips are soft, yet firm, a mirror of the determination he shows on the court. You feel the roughness of his stubble against your skin, the warmth of his body pressing against yours, and the steady beat of his heart against your chest.

You both pull back slightly, breathless, eyes locked. The moment lingers, charged with a newfound intimacy. "Worth the wait?" You smirk, feeling your cheeks flush.

Jack nods, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "More than worth it." He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek. His gaze drops to your mouth again, and you can't help but lean in for another kiss. This one is slower, more deliberate, as if he's savoring every second.

When you finally break away, you're both panting slightly. The sun is lower now, casting a warm, golden light across the court, turning it into a stage for your shared victory. "I think I've had enough lessons for today," you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.

Jack nods, his eyes still on yours, searching for something unspoken. He takes your hand, the calluses from his years of playing tennis a stark contrast to your soft skin. "Me too," he agrees, his voice hoarse.

You walk off the court together, your hand in his, the tension of the game now replaced by the gentle squeeze of his fingers. The sun is lower in the sky, painting the world in a warm, golden hue. The air is cooler, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers from the nearby garden. The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the quiet understanding that comes from sharing an intense experience.

You sit on the bench beside the courts, the wood still warm from the day's heat. You take a swig from your water bottle, watching as Jack does the same, his throat working as he swallows. He sets the bottle down and looks at you, his eyes searching.

"What is it?" you ask, your voice still breathless from the exertion and the kiss.

Jack clears his throat, his hand still wrapped around yours. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" he says, his voice filled with wonder.

You blush, looking down at your tennis shoes, the laces loosened. "I'm a mess," you protest, but the smile playing on your lips betrays you.

Jack shakes his head, his eyes still holding yours. "You're perfect," he says, his voice earnest.

The words hang in the air, and you can't help but feel a warmth spread through your chest. You look up at him, your heart racing. "Jack," you whisper, not sure what to say.

He smiles softly, leaning in to kiss you again. This time it's gentle, a promise of more to come. You melt into it, feeling the world spin around you. When you pull away, you're both grinning like fools, the thrill of the game and the excitement of the kiss intermingling in your veins.

[pinkcaraz]

ok short summary of things taylor talked about during his just chatting portion of the stream (11/27/24). i definitely missed some stuff bc his stream was super quiet and i was doing other stuff but yea i summarized most of the points. also i left out a few parts about details on league since i didn't rly think anyone would care that much about it LOL.

taylor got home 5 days ago, had training today, will probs start hitting tmr, said he should have maybe taken more days off

he saw the novandy news, said it'll be super nice to have andy back and that he was def not expecting it

he hasn't finished arcane yet, he's waiting for morgan to watch it together

he bought a custom (?) cloud pendant (i think from an anime i'm not sure) for a chain

talking about watching faker at worlds and how insane it is bc he could see his screen and see that he was tabbing around watching all the different perspectives

wants caedrel to coach him LOL told chat to spam him to coach him in league

scuffed stream 😭 he's fumbling w his mic and facecam

he said hes former top 100 NA fifa player, said team italy should have invited them so he could smoke them at fifa LMAO

got asked why does he take off left shoe during breaks? theres a spot that hurts when he slides around so taking his shoe off to let it chill helps relieve the pain

jealous of jannik and iga for being able to slide into backhands (he was more specific about the type of shot but i missed it)

bragging about his win rate in league (again)

talking about frances' serve time violations in shanghai thought the first 2 calls of time violation were bs, but def thought the one where he faked the ball toss was valid

said he'd answer controversial tennis questions LOL

got asked why sour cream and guac? bc he doesn't like spicy that much

london airbnb incident - they booked the airbnb the day before they got there, he thought the people trying to rob the airbnb probs thought they weren't there, morgan noticed sketchy people walking up to the door in the middle of the night, he tried to bolt the door but there wasn't a bolt so he held it shut w his body, he had his racket w him and said he would have hit the intruders w a slice forehand if they got in LMAO

thoughts on racket smashing - thinks it's entertaining, ok if not putting others in danger/at risk, thinks it's entertaining for people/fans to see, somewhat humanizing effect on the player, not healthy to keep anger in, don't do it on grass tho bc it ruins the court

talking about his match v daniil - thought that one game was funny but didn't think he was intentionally throwing the match

tommy and frances playing mind games by overcomplimenting their opponent (thinking about the laver cup fed '05 moment)

hits ohbhs in practice sometimes bc he thinks his "one-y" is unbelievable, rule is he's allowed to hit it until he hits a bad one then goes back to normal

any profits he gets from the stream will go to charity ! he's interested in donating to things that help kids

players don't pay for hotels while they're in tournaments but pay for everything else

thinks michael (his coach) should def win best coach, sportsmanship award will probs go to carlos or casper

thinks most improved award should consider older players more like draper, popyrin, musetti, himself, also jasmine paolini, etc. bc it's more impressive when older players improve compared to younger guys who have more time - for ex, gmp improved a lot this yr in ranking bc he was alrdy good and finally got time to actually play to raise his ranking

preference on armstrong vs ashe - more of a preference about which times to play, armstrong has better times for him

can go through like 5 pairs of shoes during a hard court major bc of all the sliding around

said he heard a lot of positive feedback about the wta finals from the players - players were taken care of well, knows that the previous wta finals tournaments have been rough

was gonna go to usc for college if he went to college, he verbally committed to usc, but didn't really plan on going to college

taylor bought and had flowers sent to morgan in LA

said watching worlds was super sick and he thought the opening ceremony was amazing, gumayushi's pose went hard

he doesn't save vods bc he doesn't want people to clip stuff and pull stuff he said, said he feels it allows him to be more authentic on stream

slkjhfajkf he talked about the liking a homophobic tweet on accident and said he freaked out bc he was having a chill no phone day and when he went to check socmed he was like "omg i'm canceled" IM DEAD

favorite league character to play rn is viego, he wins a lot of games on him

thinks the tennis calendar should def be shorter

[fifteenloove]

chat istg this sincaraz shipping account on twt who is quite obviously JEALOUS of Jack Draper sjsjsjsjsjsjsj CINEMA

[warningsine]

If it was ever possible to maintain the illusion that good work will attract an audience simply by virtue of its quality, it isn’t now. In 2017, there’s simply too much out there to guarantee that the best series will attract the biggest audiences. It’s a miracle, then, that Halt and Catch Fire, a show originally meant to fill the hole left by Mad Men, has managed to make it to the end of its fourth and final season, which concluded this weekend in the US.

A tech drama that takes place entirely between the first iteration of Microsoft Word in 1983 and Windows 95, Halt and Catch Fire kept its focus squarely on the haze of an emerging field, without any of the fist-pumping moments that might have come from a show focusing on the rise of Google or Facebook. The characters never achieved lasting success or transformation, perpetually stymied by the major players in a nascent and clunking industry. Instead, they faced an endless, thankless series of intractable workplace decisions about integrity, product quality and business logistics.

These seemingly pedestrian moments dominate the show’s central relationship between Donna Clark (Kerry Bishé) and Cameron Howe (Mackenzie Davis), two women who attempt to found a tech company and spend the next few years discovering what they’re willing to sacrifice in the effort. Eventually, it’s impossible for people this committed to their work to separate their personal values and their professional ones, and while that conflict might sound cliche, in the hands of Halt and Catch Fire’s cast, it’s enthralling.

Over the course of the series, the characters’ business interests range from building personal computers at Dell competitor Cardiff Electric to videogames, web-based chat, and e-commerce at Cameron and Donna’s startup Mutiny to antivirus software at MacMillan Utility to, finally, early search engines at Comet and Rover. (All of these companies are fictional and, with the exception of Cardiff, are founded by the characters themselves.) Halt and Catch Fire’s cast is full of classic Silicon Valley résumé – they’re perpetually successful enough to keep working, and to live more or less comfortably while pursuing other ventures, but they never quite strike it big, whether that’s because of conflicts between the partners, technological limitation, or, most often, the presence of an enormous corporation capable of choking the market.

Every major character on the series contains multitudes. Donna is a hard-assed businesswoman, but she’s also a practically minded, savvy person who wants to do her best to create a thriving company with an innovative product. Cameron’s myopia is frustrating, but it’s part of why she’s such a successful coder. Steve Jobs-style visionary Joe MacMillan (Lee Pace) is also, to varying degrees, a charlatan, and tinkering softie Gordon Clark (Scoot McNairy) becomes irritable when he has to leave his comfort zone.

Those relationships contained a staggering number of stories. In just the fourth season alone, Halt and Catch Fire handled a teen coming-out story, the fallout from a divorce, a marriage, several mid-life crises, and a sudden, heart-rending death. But none of these stories are the defining features of the characters; they’re simply facets of their lives. Where another drama might end with the consummation of a romantic pairing, or the strengthening of a family, Halt and Catch Fire ends with Donna having an idea, and pitching it to Cameron. We don’t hear the idea, but that’s not important – the point is beginning the cycle anew.

In this respect, it’s similar to the Mad Men finale – but where Mad Men is ambivalent, at best, toward the bolt of inspiration that leads Don Draper to create the “I’d like to buy the world a Coke” ad, Halt and Catch Fire maintains a single commitment: ideas are what we have. That’s why the show could never have become a smash hit, why it got renewed by the skin of its teeth, and why it’s highly unlikely it will ever be brought back by an ambitious investor. With so many self-consciously explosive series vying for your attention, Halt and Catch Fire played a different game. It kept itself contained, forcing the audience to match its subdued, mesmerizing rhythm. Eventually, the audience and the characters learned the same lesson: sometimes, it’s worth putting in the work.

[grimvestige]

Draper pulled Keane into the astral plane to chat / catch up a bit in the recent book club session because she's been missing her family a lot and he decided to scoop her up into a hug <3

[chaosalotl]

₊✧˚⊹INTRO POST⊹˚✧₊

hey, hi, hellooo! im Felix/Chaos, whichever is fine. i prefer he/him pronouns and im a minor so dont be weird :D

this blog is for:

photography

art i make

my many (often dumb) thoughts

cat pics

and anything i like that i reblog!

i love love loveee asks, music recs, n stuff like that!

dni pedophiles, racists, transphobes, homophobes, donation accs (im ✨poor✨), stupid porn bots that i hate sm, etc.

(you will be blocked <33)

under the cut is stuff abt me!

games i adore; pokémon, tsp, stardew valley, acnh, wobbledogs, minecraft, crk, genshin anddd hsr!

fav shows/movies; hilda (on netflix its sooo beautiful), amphibia, carmen sandiego (also netflix, HIGHLY recommend), kipo, she-ra, the mitchells vs the machines, spiderman across the spiderverse (the animation tickles my brain), owl house, mulan (i relate to reflection sooo hard), the princess and the frog, httyd, pokémon (indigo league and xyz specifically), brave, stitch, hercules, the emperor’s new groove, and madoka magica (chat, ive been corrupted 😔).

fav books; ‘Amari and The Night Brothers’ series by B.B. Alston, ‘Deephaven’ series by Ethan M. Aldridge, ‘The Clackity’ series by Lora Senf, ‘The Green Ember’ series by S. D. Smith, and ‘out of my mind’ by Sharon M. Draper.

okay, now music. when i say i like music, i mean i reaaaalllyyyy love music. some genres being folk, rock, gothic rock, celtic, hyperpop, pop, r&b, classical, indie, alt, and more i prob just dont remember the names for lol

(my spotify playlist/archive of songs i like has 2,104 songs fr fr)

ilovefrogsilovefrogsilovefrogsilovefrogsilovefrogsilovefrogs (glass frogs specifically are soo cool and interesting. their underbellies are translucent, so u can see their itty bitty organs n beating hearts if u place one on a transparent surface. ALSO they look like lil frog gummies from above. theyre my current favs besides the amazon milk frog)

also picrew bc why tf not (updated LOL)

[cygnusposts]

Jason Todd Week Day 5: Family/No Capes/Jason is a Literature Nerd is up 👍I speedran finishing it and posted anyway chat hello

"Holy shit." Jason doesn't mean to say it out loud, but— he knows that name. Knew it? Knows. Because Tim Drake is the same kid who gave him a fake name on a rooftop his first year as Robin. The same kid with a too-large camera around his neck and stars in his eyes even through the obvious panic. (He has to bite his tongue to stop himself from blurting out the name Alvin Draper and giving everything away. It's almost physically painful not to ask if he's majoring in photography or some other art bullshit like Jason. Is he okay? Did he stop running around on Gotham roofs in the middle of the night?)

[novabun-ships]

21, 28, and 87,, <:

YUSSSS Thank You Brooke!!! \O/

21 - tbf I have a lot of Arbour in my playlist.. they're so good! (lofiii)

28 - D'AW THIS SONG REMINDS ME OF MY GOOD LOVELY BOYO RAT DJ HUSBAND DEFALT!!! <3333 awwwwwwww

87 - Kaden your drunk karaoke song has entered the chat..... lmao Its one of my go to's when I'm tipsy. Plus, I just love Gaga's music haha

[nadiapodoroska]

FMR. KASATKINAS, ERRALINI & DIANASHNAIDERS

ciara / she&they / nineteen / esteemed tennis fan and erralini scholar * ˚ ✦

other places you can find me:

@frederikvesti (motorsports) / @milliekessler (film/television) / @johnwetton (music)

more info down below! 🫶 * ˚ ✦

ABT. ME (continued) * ˚ ✦

tennispilled college student studying film! MASSIVE wta fan. i like the atp too, just the wta way more lol. other enjoyments: motorsports, film & television, music (ESPECIALLY prog rock), figure skating, monty python, vinyl collecting, etc. i basically always take gif requests unless explicitly stated otherwise! for the most part im chill with most of the players on both tours, unless your name is alexander zverev or nick kyrgios. OH AND REILLY OPELKA. if you are any of these people….goodbye! other than that, im pretty chill and enjoy talking to others so feel free to chat with me! also i change my url a lot because im very impulsive. <3

PLAYERS I <3 * ˚ ✦

okay so for the record i really like WAYYY too many players. like far too many to be listed tbh so i decided to condense it down to my main faves from each tour to make it less cluttered! it’s a wide variety of players on here so just. yeah know i reblog A LOT. also i am a tad intrigued with tennis from the 90s-2010s so. yeah…..

W T A * ˚ ✦

↳ j. henin / n. podoroska / d. shnaider / k. muchová / j. paolini / s. errani / m. andreeva / e. rybakina / d. kasatkina / k. volynets / b. bencic / a. kerber / g. muguruza / a. barty / m. joint / k. clijsters / c. tauson / p. kvitová / e. mertens / s & v. williams / m. sharapova / i. świątek / a. sabalenka / q. zheng / o. jabeur / c. gauff / n. osaka / f. pennetta / c. wozniacki / b. andreescu / a. ivanovic / m. keys / s. kenin / e. lys / c. garcia / b. krejčíková / m. vondroušová / k. siniaková / a. petkovic / e. raducanu / s. stephens / c. suárez navarro / m. bouzková / r. šramková / n. li / l. fernandez / x. wang / b. haddad maia / a. tomljanović / m. kessler / a. eala & more!

DOUBLES: errani & paolini, andreeva & shnaider, hsieh & mertens, barty & dellacqua, siniaková & townsend, mirza & hingis, muguruza & suárez navarro, siniaková & krejčíková, errani & vinci, mertens & sabalenka, garcia & mladenovic, hsieh & wang

A T P * ˚ ✦

↳ t. m. etcheverry / t. macháč / f. cobolli / d. schwartzman / l. tien / j. sinner / b. shelton / f. auger-aliassime / d. shapovalov / j. draper / c. ruud / h. rune / h. hurkacz / j. menšík / j. fonseca / k. nishikori / t. fritz / c. alcaraz / g. dimitrov / a. de minaur / z. zhang / f. cerundolo / m. berettini / d. thiem / r. nadal / r. federer / a. murray & more!

MIXED DOUBLES: hsieh & zieliński, errani & vavassori

STUFF I TAG * ˚ ✦

gifs / graphics / pics / txt / asks / edited

j. paolini archives / d. shnaider archives / n. podoroska archives

[lifeofpriya]

A Courtside Crush - Jack Draper

[gif credit goes to @pyotrkochetkov]

summary: your secret crush on jack takes a surprising turn when your feelings are reciprocated with equal intensity...

You've been at the National Tennis Centre for six months now as a resident intern, eager to learn the ins and outs of the sport that has captured the hearts of millions. Your days are filled with the thrumming excitement of aspiring athletes pushing their limits, and you find yourself in the throes of a crush that you can't quite shake.

Jack strides into the room, and you feel your cheeks heat up as you always do when he's near. His intoxicating hazel eyes sweep over you, lingering for a moment longer than usual. You've noticed him noticing you, and it sends your heart racing every time. He's not just another player; he's the star of the show, with a backhand that could make even the stoic weep with envy.

You're in the middle of explaining a new diagnostic tool to a fellow intern, your words tripping over themselves as Jack approaches. He leans against the netting, casually sipping from his water bottle, the logo of an exotic sports drink brand you've never heard of. His forearms bulge with the kind of power that only comes from countless hours on the court. You struggle to keep your voice steady, but it's like trying to balance a tray of fine china on a tightrope in a tornado.

"Jack, I've got your pre-training prep sorted," you say, trying to sound professional, but your voice is a squeaky mess. You hand him the clipboard, your hand trembling. He takes it, smiling that million-dollar smile, his eyes sparkling with a hint of something more.

"Thanks," he says, his voice like a perfectly timed serve, deep and resonant. He reads over the notes you've meticulously compiled, his eyes scanning the page. You can't help but steal glances at him, his profile sharp against the fluorescent lights of the training room. You're acutely aware of every little detail: the way his hair flops over his forehead and in front of his eyes, the beads of sweat that cling to his neck, the tattoo peeking out from his left bicep—a simple and minimalistic lightning bolt.

Jack looks up, catching your gaze. "Is there anything else I should know?" His smile is gentle, and you realize that you've been holding your breath.

You swallow hard, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "No, that's everything for now," you reply, trying to ignore the way your voice wavers.

Jack's eyes stay on you, a curious expression playing on his face. "You know, you always seem to blush when you give me these," he says, tilting his head slightly. "Is it something I'm doing wrong?"

You shake your head, feeling the heat in your cheeks intensify. "No, no," you stutter, "It's just… the lighting, you know." It's a terrible lie, but you're a terrible liar, and Jack seems to know it. His smile widens, and he nods.

"Ah, the lights," he says, his voice filled with amusement. "They can be tricky." He winks at you, and you can't tell if he's teasing or if he genuinely believes you. Inside, you're a whirlwind of butterflies, each one flapping its wings in a frenetic dance of excitement and embarrassment.

Days turn into weeks, and Jack starts seeking you out more often. He'd pop into the physio room for a quick chat or ask for a bottle of water that he could have easily grabbed himself. Each time, you feel your heart stutter in your chest. He's not just noticing you; he's actively engaging with you.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling training session, Jack approaches you with a towel draped around his neck, his hair a damp mess that somehow makes him even more attractive. "Hey," he says, his breath still heavy from exertion, "Could you…uh, check my shoulder?" He winces, rubbing the sore muscle.

You nod, trying to keep your cool as you follow him into a quieter corner of the training room. He swiftly undressed his sweat-soaked shirt, revealing an athletic torso that made the air around you feel thick with anticipation. You focus on his shoulder, the tension coiled tight like the strings of a racquet. As you start to probe the muscles, his skin is warm to the touch, and you feel the strength beneath your fingertips.

"It's okay," he says, noticing your gentle touch. "You can be a bit firmer. I've had worse."

You nod, trying to keep your thoughts from straying. You press into the taut muscles of his shoulder, feeling the knots loosen beneath your fingers. His skin is smooth, the scent of sweat and the faint tang of his cologne lingering. You take a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand.

"Does this feel okay?" you ask, trying to sound professional despite the racing of your heart.

Jack nods, his eyes closing as you work. "Yeah, that's the spot." His voice is a soft rumble, and you can feel the vibration in your own chest. You continue to massage his shoulder, feeling the muscles relax under your touch.

You've seen the way other interns look at you when you're with Jack, the glances filled with envy and curiosity. But it's not just about being close to him; it's about the connection you feel, the way he makes you feel seen in a sea of faces that often blur together in the bustling center.

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the tennis courts, Jack finds you in the empty player's lounge. You're reviewing notes for an upcoming seminar on injury prevention, your nose buried in the pages. You don't hear him enter, but you feel the shift in the air, the subtle way it seems to charge with his presence.

"Hey," he says, his voice a gentle intrusion into the silence. You look up, startled, your cheeks immediately flaming. He smirks, that knowing smile playing on his lips. "Still blushing?"

You duck your head, pretending to focus on your notes. "It's nothing, just… the heat in here."

Jack chuckles, a sound that resonates through your entire body. He takes a seat next to you, his legs stretched out in front of him, his sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. You can't help but steal glances at his profile, the way the light kisses his high cheekbones and the sharp line of his jaw.

"You're working late," he comments, nodding towards your notes. "What's got you so absorbed?"

You look up, surprised by his genuine interest. "Just preparing for a seminar," you reply, your voice a whisper of its usual self. "It's on injury prevention in elite athletes."

Jack nods thoughtfully. "That's pretty important stuff," he says, his eyes meeting yours. There's something in his gaze that wasn't there before—a warmth, an understanding that sends a shiver down your spine. "You're really dedicated, you know that?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "It's just part of the job," you murmur, your eyes darting back to the pages in front of you. But you can feel him watching you, and it's like your heart is a tennis ball bouncing back and forth in your chest, eager to be served into the right court.

Jack leans in slightly, his gaze intense. "I noticed how much you care about the players, how you pay attention to the smallest details. It's pretty impressive." His words hang in the air, and you can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. Is he flirting with you? Or is it just your imagination, running wild with hope?

You manage a small smile, trying to keep your cool. "Thank you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's what we're here for, right?"

Jack nods, his gaze still locked on you. "But not everyone does it with the passion you have. It's like you're a silent guardian angel for all of us."

You laugh, a nervous chuckle that betrays the tumult of emotions inside. "Guardian angel?" You repeat, looking up from your notes. "I'm just trying to do my job."

Jack's smile softens, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well, you do it better than anyone else here." He leans back in his chair, his fingers playing with the strings of his racket. "What do you do when you're not, you know, saving us from our own bodies?"

You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the way your heart is thumping like a drum in your chest. "I… I like to read, mostly," you admit. "Or bake, sometimes. It helps me unwind."

Jack's eyes light up. "Really?" He leans in closer, his interest piqued. "What's your favorite thing to bake?"

You blush even deeper. "I'm not sure if I have a favorite, but I enjoy making a variety of things." You hesitate for a moment before adding, "I made some scones last weekend, actually. They were… decent."

Jack's eyes widen. "Scones?" He repeats, his voice filled with surprise. "You know, I've never had a decent scone before. Most places just get them wrong."

You look at him, your eyes meeting his with a hint of skepticism. "You don't say?"

Jack nods, his eyes gleaming with something that seems almost like excitement. "Yeah, I've had some pretty disappointing ones. Too dry, not enough jam, you know the deal." He pauses, his gaze lingering on your face. "Would you… I don't know, maybe make some for me one of these days?"

You blink, surprised by the request. "For you?" You repeat, your voice a squeak.

Jack nods, his grin widening. "Yeah, for me. If you don't mind, of course."

You can't believe what you're hearing. Is Jack Draper, the tennis phenomenon you've been crushing on for weeks, really asking you to bake him scones? "I'd be happy to," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "But I'll need to make sure they're up to your… discerning taste."

Jack laughs, a sound that fills the room and warms you from the inside out. "I'll be the judge of that." He winks, and you feel a flutter in your stomach that's more intense than any you've felt before.

The days that follow are a blur of anticipation. Each time you see Jack, your heart skips a beat. His glances seem more lingering, his smiles more genuine. The other interns whisper about the two of you, speculating about what's going on. You pretend not to hear them, focusing on your work, but every interaction with Jack feels like a secret shared between the two of you.

On the day you've agreed to bring him scones, you wake up early, the recipe for the perfect scone echoing in your mind like a mantra. You meticulously measure out the ingredients, kneading the dough with a gentle touch, hoping that with each fold, you're also weaving a little bit of yourself into them. The scent of baking fills your small apartment, a sweet promise of a good day ahead.

You arrive at the training center with a Tupperware container filled with your culinary creation, your heart racing. The other interns eye you curiously as you make your way to Jack's locker. He's just coming out, freshly showered and dressed in his pristine training gear. He sees you and his eyes light up, the same way they do when he nails an ace.

"Scones," he says, his voice a mix of excitement and surprise. "You really did it."

You hand him the Tupperware, your hands shaking slightly. "I hope they're up to your standards," you say, trying to sound casual despite the racing of your heart.

Jack takes the container, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'm sure they'll be perfect," he says, a hint of warmth in his voice that makes you feel like you've just scored a winning point.

You watch as he opens the Tupperware, the anticipation in the air thick enough to slice through with a knife. He takes a deep breath, his eyes closing for a brief moment as he inhales the scent of freshly baked scones. When he opens them again, they're sparkling with excitement.

"They smell amazing," Jack says, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. He takes one out, breaking it in half. You can almost hear the soft crackle of the crust as he does so. He takes a bite, his eyes never leaving yours.

You hold your breath, waiting for his verdict. The seconds stretch out like a long, tense rally, each one fraught with the potential for victory or defeat. Then, Jack's face relaxes into a smile, his eyes lighting up. "These are… these are incredible," he says, his mouth full of scone. "The best I've ever had."

The words hit you like a perfectly placed drop shot, sending waves of happiness through your body. "Really?" you ask, unable to contain the excitement bubbling up inside you.

Jack nods, taking another bite. "Mm-hmm," he mumbles around the mouthful of scone. "These are the real deal."

You can't help but feel a swell of pride. "I'm so glad you like them," you say, smiling shyly.

Jack takes another bite, his eyes closing in pleasure. "These are seriously amazing," he murmurs. "You've got a real talent."

You blush harder, the compliment feeling like a warm embrace. "Thank you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's just something I enjoy doing."

Jack takes another bite, nodding in agreement. "It shows," he says, his mouth full of scone again. "You put a lot of love into these."

You feel your cheeks heat up even more at his words. "I just wanted to make sure they were good," you reply, your voice barely above a murmur.

Jack swallows, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that steals the breath from your lungs. "They're not just good," he says, his voice dropping to a murmur that matches yours. "They're perfect. Like you."

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel your cheeks burn even hotter. "Jack," you whisper, not quite sure how to respond.

He takes another bite, his eyes never leaving yours. "What?" He asks, his voice a low rumble.

You feel the weight of his gaze, the way it seems to strip you bare of all your defenses. "I… I just didn't expect you to say that," you reply, your voice trembling slightly.

Jack shrugs, his eyes still on you. "Why not?" He asks, popping the last piece of scone into his mouth. "It's the truth."

You can't help but feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words. You've never had someone look at you the way he does, as if you're the only person in the room.

"Jack," you start to say, but your voice catches in your throat. You're not sure what to say next. You've had crushes before, but none of them have ever looked at you like this.

Jack finishes his scone, licking the crumbs off his fingers. He looks at you, his eyes filled with something that's definitely more than just friendship. "You know," he says, his voice a soft caress, "I've been thinking a lot about you lately."

Your heart does a backflip. "Oh?" you reply, trying to sound nonchalant, but you're pretty sure you've failed.

Jack nods, his eyes still on yours. "Yeah," he says, his voice a soft rumble. "I can't get you out of my head."

You're frozen, unable to form words as he takes a step closer. The scent of his cologne, mixed with the faint aroma of sweat and the lingering sweetness of your scones, fills your senses. You're acutely aware of every little detail about him: the way his hair sticks to his forehead, the way his eyes seem to sparkle in the harsh gym lighting, the gentle curve of his smile as he looks at you.

"You know," Jack says, his voice a soft whisper, "I've been feeling the same way."

Your heart skips a beat, and you find yourself unable to look away from him. The air between you feels charged, like the moments before a storm. You've never been so aware of your own breathing, the sound of your heart in your ears, the way the fabric of your shirt clings to your skin.

Jack takes another step closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through your body, and you realize that you've stopped breathing. He looks into your eyes, searching for something, and you realize with a start that you've fallen for him, hard.

"Jack," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your racing heart. "I think I might… I mean, I think…"

He leans in closer, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently stroking the line of your jaw. "Might what?" He asks, his voice a gentle coax.

You swallow hard, trying to find the words. "Might… like you," you finally manage, your heart feeling like it's about to burst out of your chest.

Jack's smile widens, a hint of surprise and joy flickering in his eyes. "You do?" He asks, his voice a mix of excitement and disbelief.

You nod, feeling your face flush even more. "I do," you murmur, your heart racing like you're in the middle of a match.

Jack's smile turns into a grin. "Well, that's good," he says, his voice a soft rumble. "Because I like you too."

The confession hits you like a perfectly timed serve, and you can feel your knees threaten to buckle. "You do?" You ask, your voice a squeak.

Jack chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah, I do," he confirms, his thumb still tracing the line of your jaw. The warmth of his hand sends a shiver down your spine, and you lean into his touch, unable to resist.

The training room fades into the background as Jack leans in, closing the distance between you. You can feel his breath on your face, and your heart is racing like it's the final set of a grand slam. He looks into your eyes, searching for something, and you realize you've been holding your breath.

"Jack," you murmur, your voice barely a whisper, "I-"

But before you can say another word, Jack's mouth is on yours, and the world around you dissolves into a whirlwind of sensation. His lips are soft, yet firm, and they move against yours with a gentle urgency that steals the remaining breath from your lungs. You're not sure how long you stand there, lost in the kiss, but it feels like an eternity—like every moment of your life has been leading up to this.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are filled with a vulnerability you haven't seen before. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he murmurs, his thumb still caressing your cheek.

You can't help but smile, feeling like you're floating on a cloud of happiness. "Me too," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jack's eyes light up, and he leans in for another kiss, his hand slipping around your waist. You melt into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. The sound of sneakers squeaking on the gym floor and the distant echo of a tennis ball bouncing off the court fade away, leaving only the sound of your hearts beating in sync.

You've read about moments like this in romance novels, but you never thought it would happen to you, especially not with someone as incredible as Jack Draper. You're just a simple intern, not the hero of some grand love story. But here you are, lost in the embrace of a man who's captured not just your heart but the hearts of millions with his fierce determination and undeniable charm.

Jack pulls away from the kiss, his eyes searching yours with a mix of hope and excitement. "So, does this mean we can… you know, see where this goes?" His voice is tentative, as if he's afraid you might say no, even though your entire body is screaming yes.

You nod, smiling so wide it feels like your cheeks might split. "Yes," you reply, your voice barely more than a breath. "I'd like that."

Jack's grin turns into a full-fledged smile, his eyes sparkling like the trophies lined up in the center's display case. "Great," he says, squeezing your waist gently. "Because I've got a feeling this could be something special."