#finally put him in a trucker hat

[fullscoreshenanigans]

Blank under cut:

[austinbutlerslovers]

Hideaway

Label Mature 18+

Summary After a long press tour and back to back filming schedule Austin goes completely off grid. He takes you with him to a secluded mountain town where he temporarily recharges in solitude away from the spot light.

💝Romantic Smut💝 Austin sweet • calm • affectionate • overworked • hiding away • at peace • couples dynamics• passionate p in v • cream pie • aftercare

Inspo Based on his last sighting in Colorado-written in a few hours bc he’s officially Missing 😭

Hideaway

It’s quiet in Colorado.

The kind of quiet that fills your lungs with crisp mountain air, where the only sounds are the rustling of trees and the distant rush of a river somewhere down the valley.

Austin wanted this, a break from the flashing cameras, from premieres and press tours, away from always having to be “Austin Butler” instead of just… being Austin.

A secluded mountain town in Colorado is where he decided to temporarily slip out of the spotlight of fame.

Here, he’s just your boyfriend.

The two of you have fallen into an easy rhythm, waking up slow, cooking breakfast in the rental villa’s cozy kitchen, running errands like any normal couple.

He pulls on an old hoodie and a well worn pair of jeans, his trucker hat perched low over his blue eyes as he blends in with the locals.

No one recognizes him when you stop at the little general store or have a fresh pressed juice from the small town café.

It isn’t until you’re at a major grocery store, wandering the aisles hand in hand, that someone finally clocks who he is.

A fan stops mid-aisle, her eyes going wide.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, looking between the two of you. “You’re Austin Butler.”

Austin, ever the gentleman, grins warmly, tilting his head slightly. “I am,” he admits, his voice as soft and easy as ever. “Nice to meet you.”

She fumbles for her phone, nearly dropping it in her excitement. “I—um—can I get a picture? I’m such a huge fan.”

“Of course,” he says without hesitation. —He always obliges, he always makes time.

He takes the photo with her and even asks if she wants to check it to make sure she likes it before flashing her another easy grin.

“Thank you so much.” she says clutching her phone looking up at him star struck.

As she leaves practically beaming you shake your head, watching him with fond amusement. “You really are the nicest person ever aren’t you,” you tease.

Austin grins slinging an arm around your shoulder as you head for the checkout. “I figure, if I can leave someone feeling better than before they met me, I must be doing something right.” He says giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Back at the secluded rental villa, nestled against the mountains, you finish putting the groceries away while Austin stretches with a sigh, rolling his shoulders before plopping down to lay on the oversized couch.

“You look so comfortable,” you tease, as you sit beside him, tucking your legs under you.

He hums, tilting his head back against the cushions, his blue eyes half-lidded in pure contentment. “That’s because I am,” he says, his voice low and lazy.

You slowly lay on top of him, running your fingers through his hair, the shaved cut from his last role finally growing back, thick and soft.

He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch, a low, satisfied hum sounding from his chest.

“How does it feel having a little hideaway?” you ask quietly.

Austin exhales slowly, like he’s actually taking in the question, considering it.

Then he opens his eyes, looking at you with that wise, thoughtful expression of his.

“Like I can breathe easier,” he says. “Like I don’t have to be anything but here with you.”

His words melt something inside you, and you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. He kisses you back, slow and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world to do nothing but give you his affection.

Later at night, the two of you make drinks—whiskey for him, something a little sweeter for you—and you slip into the hot tub outside.

The villa sits at the base of the San Juan Mountains, the jagged peaks stretching into the endless star scattered sky, the dark silhouettes vast against the deep blue.

Austin leans back, stretching his arms along the edge of the tub, his head tilted up as he takes in the view. The steam rises around you both and he sighs, glancing over at you with a lazy smile.

You lean toward him, your legs brushing his under the water. “You glad we came here?” you ask.

He reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “I’d go anywhere as long as I’ve got you,” he grins, squeezing your hand gently. “But yeah… I love it here— I love being with you.“

Your heart swells at the sincerity in his words. “I love being here with you too,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again.

This kiss is longer, deeper, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck as he tilts his head, drawing you in closer.

The warmth of the water, the crisp night air, the way he kisses you, it all becomes intoxicating.

You pull back slightly breathless. “You want go inside?” you ask.

He smirks slow and teasing “Yeah” he says his eyes heavy with desire for you.

You head to the master bedroom, the glow of starlight spilling through the windows, casting soft shadows across the room.

Your wet swimwear is discarded and forgotten on the floor as Austin lays on top of you, his body warm and solid against yours.

His lips move over yours, deep and unhurried, his hands cradling the back of your neck as he presses closer, kissing you like he never wants to stop.

His breaths grow heavier, his chest rising and falling against yours as he nudges your legs apart, making space.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to look down at you as he lines himself up. “Look at me,” he whispers, his voice low and thick.

You do, and the moment your eyes meet his, he pushes in slow, filling you inch by inch. His lips return to yours as a soft needy moan escapes you, captured by his kiss.

His hands trail down your sides, fingers gliding over your soft skin before cupping your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples in slow, gentle circles.

He lifts slightly, watching your face as he pushes in deeper, his hips angling just right.

The sensation makes you moan, your hands clutching at his arms, the pleasure building with every slow, measured thrust.

His blue eyes darken, the heat in them making you even hotter, and your moans turn into soft, desperate whimpers as the pleasure inside you reaches its peak.

He feels it, the way your body tightens around him as you come, the way your legs pull him in even closer as you moan his name.

His hand braces against the bed while the other slides under your back, pulling you flush against him with every thrust.

His abs flex as he drives deeper, his rhythm faltering as he nears his own release.

His breaths turn ragged, little moans slipping past his lips, making you gaze up at him in pure wrecked lust.

His focus is entirely on you, his pupils blown wide, his expression raw with need.

And then, with one final thrust, his hips twitch forward, his body tensing as he spills deep inside of you, a low guttural groan rising from his chest.

He lays down heavily on you as he rides it out, pushing into you one final time, his breaths becoming a soft broken moan as he fills you completely.

For a moment, he stays there, chest rising and falling against yours, his skin warm and slick. His forehead rests against your temple, his breaths mingling with your own as he slowly comes back to himself.

Then, with a deep exhale, he presses a soft kiss to your lips before carefully pulling out.

The loss makes you whimper, and he soothes you instantly, caressing your hip as he eases off of you.

He lays on the bed beside you, his body heavy with exhaustion and satisfaction and you shift closer, wrapping a leg over his waist, placing your hand across his chest where his heart beats steadily beneath your palm.

Austin hums, content, his fingers trailing lazily up and down your spine, grounding you both in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

You tilt your head up slightly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as you can see how at peace he is. “Are we ever going to go back ?” you grin.

Austin lets out a soft, lazy laugh, his fingers slipping into your hair, trailing gently. “We’ll go back.” He smiles.

You kiss his jaw, tightening your leg around his waist a little more as he pulls you closer.

“Let’s stay here just a little longer then,” you smile.

Austin sighs happily, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Just a little longer.” he agrees softly, his hand still tracing gentle patterns along your back.

As you gaze through the floor-to-ceiling windows together, the stars shimmer brightly above the jagged Colorado peaks, and wrapped in the warmth of Austin’s embrace, you both fall into a deep peaceful sleep.

End 🏔️

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[radioactivatedspider]

The Guy I Loved

Main Masterlist Ten Inch Hero Masterlist

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Radio's Café☆ - my official discord server!

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Pairings; Boaz Priestly x Reader

Genre; Angst/hurt-comfort, Slow burn romance , Drama

Warnings; Unrequited Love / Emotional Angst, Crying / Emotional Breakdown, Identity / Self-Esteem Struggles, Mild Language

Summary: Y/N breaks when Boaz changes himself for someone else—forcing him to see who truly loved him all along.

748 words

Boaz Priestly had always been loud. Loud hair, loud voice, loud shirts. A walking rebellion with piercings, guyliner, and the kind of wild, magnetic chaos Y/N had never been able to look away from.

She’d loved him for years—quietly, steadily, without asking for anything in return.

While he cracked jokes and played devil’s advocate at the counter, she memorized the curve of his smirk. When he spun conspiracy theories between sandwich orders, she listened like they were gospel. When he held the door open for old ladies or let kids poke at his piercings, she thought, God, he’s got the softest heart.

She didn’t need him to change. She loved him as is.

So when she saw him walk in that day—with short hair, clean-shaven, button-down shirt tucked in—something in her chest cracked.

“What the hell,” she whispered under her breath.

Trucker hats and band tees were gone. The piercings, even the eyebrow ring she secretly adored, were gone. He looked like some damn rom-com extra. And then she saw Tish—shy, sweet, barely making eye contact—light up as he approached.

“I was wondering,” he said, glancing over at Tish, his new look fresh and foreign on him, “if you maybe wanted to go out sometime?”

Y/N's stomach dropped.

Tish giggled. Giggled.

Boaz grinned, proud of himself. Like he’d finally cracked the code.

And Y/N just stood there, behind the counter, frozen with the kind of pain that made your throat close up and your eyes burn. She didn’t move until later, when she was alone in the back room, fists clenched, chest shaking.

The door creaked open.

“You okay?” His voice. Still his voice. Even if everything else looked wrong.

She spun to face him, eyes red and furious. “Do I look okay, Boaz?”

He blinked. “Whoa. What happened?”

“You did,” she snapped. “You happened. You cut your hair. Ditched your piercings. You changed everything about yourself—for a girl who never even looked at you until you made yourself palatable.”

He looked confused. “I just wanted a shot with her.”

“And what about who you were?” Her voice broke. “What about the guy who made people stare when he walked into a room? Who wore skirts to punk shows and called it freedom? The guy I—”

She stopped herself.

His eyes softened. “The guy you what?”

She looked away. But he waited.

“The guy I loved,” she whispered.

Silence.

“I’ve loved you for years, Boaz. And yeah, I never said anything, maybe that’s on me. But I loved you. Not whatever this—” she gestured to him, “corporate Stepford version is. And it hurts like hell watching you throw yourself away just to get someone else to see you. When I saw you all along.”

He took a step toward her, then stopped, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

“I didn’t know,” he said quietly. “I thought… I mean, you never said—”

“Because I didn’t want to mess things up. Because I figured you’d never want someone like me.”

His jaw flexed. He took a breath. Then pulled the button-up shirt away from his neck.

Underneath, just at the collarbone, was one of his old necklaces.

“I didn’t throw everything away,” he said softly. “I just… I got scared. I thought if I stayed who I was, no one would ever really love me. That maybe I was just the joke. The comic relief.”

“You were never a joke to me.”

Boaz’s eyes glistened.

They stood there, both breathing too hard, hearts pounding.

Then he reached into his back pocket, pulled out a familiar object—his lip ring.

“I was gonna put it back in tonight,” he muttered. “This whole ‘clean-cut’ thing isn’t me. It felt like playing dress-up. But I wanted to see if… I don’t know… if it would work.”

She looked at him for a long time. “So what now?”

He stepped closer, this time closing the distance. “Now I tell Tish no. Because I think I’ve been chasing the wrong girl. And I finally realized who’s been standing right in front of me.”

Y/N hesitated, pain still raw, tears still on her cheeks.

But when he reached up, brushed a thumb under her eye and whispered, “I see you,” she cracked.

“Put the damn ring back in,” she muttered.

Boaz grinned—and it was him again. That sparkle. That reckless joy.

He popped the ring in, winced slightly. “God, I missed that.”

Y/N laughed, watery and tired.

And then he kissed her.

Piercing and all.

Taglist: @star-yawnznn

[deancaspinefest]

When You Least Expect It

Author: FriendofCarlotta | Artist: seidenapfel

Posting on Sunday March 16

Ever since his father’s death, Castiel has been lonely. His job as a staffer for Congresswoman Kelly Kline can only fill so many of his hours, but his attempts at dating have been unsuccessful. A bright spot in his day is the tall stranger who shares his train platform during the morning commute. If Castiel could find someone as handsome and apparently successful as this man to share his life with, he’s sure his loneliness would be a thing of the past. One day, the stranger falls onto the train tracks during a robbery gone wrong and Castiel saves his life. With the man — Sam — lingering in a coma, Castiel quickly finds himself adopted into the raucous, cheerful circle of Sam’s family. There’s just one problem: as the result of a misunderstanding, Sam’s family believes that Castiel is Sam’s boyfriend. The situation only gets worse when Castiel finds himself falling fast and hard for Sam’s older brother Dean. Will Castiel ever be able to tell Dean and his family the truth? And if he does, will they still want him in their lives?

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

The man in the trucker hat is now demanding updates on Sam’s condition, scowling at the doctor as if it’s his personal fault that Sam is currently unconscious.

“And who are you?” says the final member of the group — a boy of about fifteen or sixteen.

Unfortunately, this question is addressed to Castiel.

He opens his mouth to say that he was present for Sam’s accident and will be leaving now. But the doctor, obviously relieved to have an excuse to cut short his conversation with the irate cap-wearing man, says, “Yes, that’s what I’d like to know! Visits on this ward are restricted to family only.”

“But he is family!” Out of nowhere, Garth has materialized in the room, all lanky limbs and smiles and the shiny rainbow pin on his scrubs. “That’s Castiel, Sam’s boyfriend.”

Oh god. This is the single worst situation Castiel has ever been in. Not only has he been caught in a lie, but he’s been outed in front of an entire blue-collar family who probably won’t take any too kindly to the suggestion (the likely untrue suggestion, just to make this situation even more tangled) that their precious son is queer.

“His boyfriend?” Sam’s mother asks, eyebrows rising as she studies Castiel. She looks absolutely thunderstruck.

“Sam is queer?” the older woman chimes in. “But he never said.”

“I thought it was only Dean,” says the woman with longer hair.

“I thought Sam was dating that god-awful Ruby woman,” the man in the trucker hat growls.

“Sam doesn’t owe it to anyone to come out before he’s ready,” the boy says, with the easy confidence of the very young. “And Mom, you can’t just go around talking about Dean’s sexuality. It’s not for you to share.”

“The fact of the matter is,” the doctor interjects, in a futile effort to raise his voice above the commotion, “only family members—”

Castiel chooses this moment to rise out of his chair, grab his coat and start backing away from Sam’s hospital bed. If he has to flee the room, being upright will at least put him in a slightly better position to gain a head start.

“Mr. Novak here also saved Sam’s life.” That’s Officer Lafitte, who for some reason known only to him still hasn’t left the hospital and has now materialized in the room next to Garth. “When Mr. Winchester was pushed onto the tracks, Mr. Novak jumped down to pull him to safety.”

Absolute silence falls over the room. After the previous chatter and chaos, the sudden absence of noise makes Castiel’s ears ring.

“You did?” Sam’s mother whispers, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. “Oh. Oh, come here.”

Castiel’s eyes dart to the doorway and the promise of sweet, sweet freedom, but before he can dash away, Sam’s mother has pulled him into the tightest hug he can remember receiving in years. Possibly ever. His father, for all his good qualities, wasn’t much of a hugger.

“Son,” the man in the trucker hat says, clapping Castiel on the shoulder so hard that he thinks his knees might buckle if Sam’s mother weren’t holding him up. “I think you’d better tell us everything.”

Keep reading on Ao3 after Sunday March 16 🌲Find more 2025 Pinefest previews here 🌲

[purelyfiction]

miami vice || rhett abbott

Rhett Abbott x F!Reader

Word Count: 3,015 words

Summary: tailgates and trucker hats and drinky decisions. that's all.

Content Warning:  HEY!! THIS HAS SMUT!! So if you’re under 18 pleaseeee go away. (brother's best friend, f fingering, choking, oral f receiving, missionary, safe sex, CNC because drunk, strangers to lovers, possession kink if you squint?)

Author Note: hey bitches i'm not dead - jk ily all sorry. if you can't tell i'm self indulgent and needed to put this horny energy somewhere other than my head. enjoy.

"HEADS UP!" You barely register the sound before a sand filled bag clocks you right across the top of your eye, making you curse and drop your beer, hand flying up to your eye. The voice has traveled from the other side of the tent to land in front of you, a large hand taking your shoulder. "shit, i'm so sorry 'bout that."

Finally blinking away the pain in your eyelid, you can open both of your eyes to reveal the jackass who'd struck you - a jackass in a black sleeveless tank with a backward trucker hat. Your chin drops as you look him in very blue eyes, which are flooded with clouded concern. "You good? C'mere," his hand moves from your shoulder to behind your back as he moves to your side, carefully tucking under the tailgate tent. The male moves to one of what had to be a dozen blue coolers tucked under folding tables, pulling it open and carefully pushing the cold can to the affected eye. You've not said a damn word as he carefully settles the drink to your forehead, eyes still trained on him. "Real sorry, again I- my buddy's got shit aim."

"It's fine, I'll just go back to my place looking like I got jumped. " Your quick retort has him chuckling as he guides your hand to take the can and hold it. After he's sure you won't drop it, he's grabbing another two cans, large hands able to handle them with ease, extending one to you as he polishes off the other he'd carried over with him.

"You can actually drink that one." This time, its you laughing at you watch him crush the now empty can and toss it in a nearby hanging trash bag, clicking the tab to open it, foam coming to the top. Instinctually, you're dropping down to catch it with your lips before it can overflow onto his hand, the aluminum still in his grip. Withdrawing, you carefully navigate it from his hands.

"Thanks. You always treat the victims your sloppy shooter assaults?"

"Nah, only if they're stupidly hot." The forwardness leaves your eyebrows to pop up, the pain dully reminding you how you got here in the first place. The nameless cornhole vigilante reaches up to the tent frame, gripping to the accordion metal and leaning in. "I don't think I recognize you? Are you bummin' booze off these guys?"

"First you hit me with a sandbag and then have the nerve to question if I'm crashing a tailgate that isn't mine?" No Name points to your with an index finger while the remaining fingers keep curled around his Miller Lite.

"Good point. Name's Rhett." Nodding in response, you're carefully moving back to the cooler to toss a somewhat warm can back to the cooler, and return to your spot. Sorta. The brunette somehow seems closer - at least his face seems that way. You introduce yourself in response, and he laughs. "Dane's sister?"

"That's the one. This is all him. The RV, the parking pass - the booze I'm 'bumming' from him." Another sip of his beer blocks the view of his devilish grin. It almost matches the flames of the shirt he's wearing. "Where's the accent from? Definitely doesn't sound like it's from here."

He would proceed to explain that he's originally from Wyoming, and had come down to compete in the National Rodeo Circuit finalist events. That made him a cowboy cornhole viglinate. Rhett had insane stories from his events - like how he fucked up his shoulder on one of his best runs and rode again the very next day. When he ran out of stories - two beers later - he was happy to attempt to get revenge on his former cornhole partner for smacking you across the face.

"You're absolutely ass at this!" He laughs, watching the bag splat against the concrete. Bouncing along to a nearby speaker you turn to him when the other two start collecting bags.

"I gotta admit - I've never played."

"You-" His face fills with surprise and disdain, shaking his head, "How have you never- damn it, we're teaching you."

On the next turn, Rhett keeps the bags to himself, and feeds one into your hand. Before you can throw it however, his larger hand comes under yours, fingers skating along your forearm before getting comfortable under your grip. His chest is flush against your back, his scruff brushing against your ear as he leans in. Thick drawl gives you instructions about the power you want to put behind the throw, moving your arm along with it. Guiding your toss, the orange bag goes flying through the air, lands on the board and slides right into the hole. "Atta girl."

You end up losing the game, mainly because Rhett's cheating by continuing to tug you backward by the belt loop every time you take a shot to the board. Each time you looked over at him with a scowl, he would sip at his drink, mumbling 'don't look at me'.

The closer and closer to game time that you got, the thinner and thinner the tailgate group got. Dane had started cleaning up, his friends helping him put things inside the RV and his friend's pickups. Rhett still clings to you like tipsy velcro, his hand stuck in your back pocket as you try to help pack things away.

"Here, I'll dump out the cooler."

"Rhett there's still-"

"Oh there's still beer in here. Would be a shame to let it go to waste." Tossing one to you - which you somehow catch - he's snagging Dane's keys from a nearby table, pushing the first key blade he can find into the bottom of the can, duplicating the hole in your can that he's guided to the horizontal position. Dropping the keys to his feet, he looks at you. "Do I gotta teach this shit to you too?"

"You gonna cheat at this too?"

"Who said this was a race?" He asks.

"This is always a race. Three, two-" Both tabs crack open as you push the cans to your mouths, shotgunning commencing without a final count. As you tilt the can properly, you realize that Rhett has already finished his can, dropping it to the pavement. How the fuck- you obviously can't ask as you continue to chug, your throat working as you keep downing the liquid. Rhett's hand, coated in beer, carefully tucks under your chin, pushing your head further back, back and back.

"You can take it." If you weren't so determined to show him up - you would've sputtered foamy wheat water everywhere. You nearly choke thanks to the new pace, but make a smooth recovery. Dropping the can, you gasp for air, throwing your head back as you let the beverage settle in your stomach. Looking at Rhett, he's got a stupidly large grin on his face, upper lip covered in beer foam. You're about to say something when Dane comes out of the RV, calling your name.

"You don't have tickets right?" Nodding, the cowboy looks at Dane and then at you.

"You're not going?"

"Unless you're tucking me into your purse, Rhett - no." Dane slaps the taller male's shoulder before reaching down for the keys on the ground and pushing them into your hand.

"These are yours 'til we get back," Turning to Rhett, he nods toward the stadium. "Ready to start walking?" The mid-west male starts patting at his jeans, all the way down to his boots. Popping up to his full height, he grips your brother's shoulder much like he had yours earlier.

"I can't find my phone or my wallet. Let me go check the RV - I'll just meet you at the seats." Dane nods, and moves to the rest of the group, starting the trek to the metal building. When they're out of earshot, Rhett's hand tucks back into your pocket again. "You wanna give me the tour?"

In the most hasty fashion, you clamber into your brother's RV, showing off the kitchenette/living area, before leading him to the bunk areas, where you'd be sleeping tonight. Rhett's hand hasn't left your pocket at this point. As you show off the tiny space, he laughs. "What's so funny?"

"It's cute y'think both of us are gonna fit in there." Like a tipsy cocker spaniel, your head tilts at him. Fingers move to grip your ass through your jeans, before he spots the pocket door to the owner's bedroom of the mobile home. He's easily pushing the door open, a larger queen sized bed waiting on the other side of the door. "That's more like it." Before you can argue with him, his lips are latching to yours, hands gripping your hips enough to tug you flush against his own.

Rhett is efficient in pulling the jersey you were roasting in off your shoulders. The cowboy is about to let it hit the floor when you pull back. “Be smart about this.” You warn. Before you can blink, he’s thrown it to a side table and you back onto the bed.

“Or. You be smart and leave the commands to me.” A hand slides up from your lower back, up along your spine, soft finger tips electrifying the skin under them as he finds the strap of your bra. His lips busy themselves along your neck, wet and sloppy open mouthed kisses are soft and smooth compared to the sharp and coarseness of his stubble. The clasps are disengaged in quick time, and he pulls away from your skin to switch to the other side of your neck. Your bra- unlike the jersey- is discarded to the floor, leaving you in jeans that hugged you well, and sweat slick bare skin.

He carefully cups your breast, gripping onto it, a thumb rolling over the peak as your head cranes back. His kisses are getting shorter and closer and closer to your chest, until the warm and wet feeling blooms along your other boob, his tongue forming many shapes in the process. Your hands are eager to tug the backwards hat off his head, fingers carding through his hair, tugging with teeth teasingly scraping your skin a moan lifts from you. “Oh did my girl like that?” He taunts, moving to switch sides.

As he keeps mouthing at your tits, his hands busy themselves with your belt and button of your pants. It’s damn near expert execution, jeans swiftly thudding to the floor, no awkward entanglement to be found. His maneuvers leave you with only your panties left to hide yourself from him, but even then, a curious index finger runs along your pussy lips through the skimpy material. Slowly, he pulls the elastic free from your skin, running along it in a pacing line, smirking up at you as he moves to the edge of the bed. "This is such a treat, cause I know that stadium doesn't serve tacos." Adjusting to sit on your forearms, you stare him down as his lips start leaving wet spots along your inner thighs, a slight sound leaving you. "Did you just call my pussy a taco?"

An idiotic and drunken smirk floods his face as rough hands slide under the sides of your underwear. "Depends. Am I gonna starve, or are you gonna let me eat it?"

The surprise on your face speaks for itself as his hands free the material from your hips. His hands come to your calves, guiding your legs to prop up and spread apart. "Let me just set my plate here- that's just perfect." It takes mere seconds for his tongue to slide between your folds, the sensation making you somewhat melt along the duvet under you. He doesn't continue in his stripe patterns but in zig-zags, waves - patterns that tease you and just barely hit your clit. Rhett keeps this behaviour up until you're grinding up against him, his hands grabbing your hips. The hold is tight, and sharp blue eyes glare up at you, darkening as you whine.

"You're gonna stay right where I put ya. Y'hear?"

"But-" He snaps up back onto his feet, hovering over you again, his finger tips gliding along your skin and delicately wrapping around your throat.

"Wanna try that again?" It's punctuated with the slightest squeeze, the revelation that he was truly in control. You shake your head, and he smirks, his eyes locking you and your attention in as he catches you off guard, his other hand pushing a finger into you, thoroughly soaked from his toying. "Good girl. You just sit there and look all pretty while I take care'a you." His hand at your lower half begin to pump in and out, his other hand still decorating your body in the form of a necklace. "You are just the damndest thing I ever did see, know that baby?"

Rhett's thumb comes from the side of your neck, tracing along your jawline and chin before it taps your bottom lip. "Open up, my girl." You do as you're told as he dips his thumb past your lips, instinctively closing around him. Your cheeks hollow out as you suck intently - the digit stifling the moan that vibrates through you as he gets another finger into you. "God you are so fuckin' beautiful." It's muttered as his hand picks up a pace, your body relaxing and holding onto him tightly in two separate places. The faster his hand rocks into you, the more distracted your tongue becomes, he can tell. Which is why his hand pulls back, using the slick from your lips to begin rubbing circles against your clit, the feeling making you sigh in contentment. His lips trap yours momentarily, his tongue running along your teeth as his hands blindly work against you.

"Fuck, you are so wet for me, aren't you?" Rhett pulls back, the both of you catching your breath as pushes - in, out, in out. Your jaw slacks, trying to get an answer out. A particularly rough thrust of his hand drives his question again. "Aren't you?"

Eagerly, you nod, a gasping answer sneaking out. "Yes, god, I'm so wet, so wet for you, Rhett."

His hands retreat, moments from letting you finish with just his fingers. The male is rapidly undoing his belt buckle, slithering a hand into his back pocket, fishing out a condom from it. He sticks it between his teeth as he barely manages to get his hard on free from his boxers.

Part of you wants to ask him to let you put it on, let you admire the length that has sprung free from his jeans, but you know he's working against a running clock. Someone is going to notice he's taking too long. He didn't want to run that risk it seems.

The wrapper disappears somewhere. You're sure it remains somewhere in the RV floorboards, but as he's entering you, there's no fucking way you care where the evidence went.

Rhett presses into you, inch by inch, his lips playing with a spot on your neck. He stretches you so well, a hiss coming from you that times well with how he sucks a bite mark onto your skin. "My girl's so tight for me. Fuckin' so goddamn tight." His voice is low, gruff and right in your ear.

The smell of his body wash hovers over you, mixing with the newly formed scent of sex in the air as he pulls back, only to move forward again. "Sweetheart, you want me to move?"

"Yes, yes I want you to move-"

"Ask me nicely, baby." He freezes above you, staring you down, piercing blue eyes drinking you in like this. Sweat slick from the stale air of an RV and the Miami heat, tucked under him, captive.

"Please move, baby. Please, I just wanna come." The expression he makes strokes your ego in ways it likely shouldn't.

"Oh you're gonna come, I'll promise you that- you're gonna come." His hips begin rutting into you as he stands up a little further, hands coming up under your knees. Propping your legs up slightly, not fully extended but providing an angle to get even deeper into you, a sound escapes you, pinpointing exactly when he does. As his thrusts move quicker and quicker, your legs seem to slip from his hands, leaving him to reach up on the bed, snagging the nearest pillow.

"Hips up, sweetheart." A pant leaves him as he aids you to pop up, sliding the cushion under you. Upon the next thrust, and each one after, Rhett continues to hit the exact same spot, earning himself a rhythm of moans that time with his hips. "Oh honey, if they didn't know, they sure do now."

His hand drops between where the two of you meet, his thumb returning to do paces, sending you careening off the edge and into a blazing white haze, your body shuddering from the sensation.

Your cowboy continues his pace, no faster, no slower - continuing to ride out until you're nodding, encouraging him along. His pace picks up, his lips snagging onto yours as the sound of a cell phone comes from the floor. It only serves as encouragement for him, until he's finishing, his upper body hovering over yours as sloppy kisses and whimpers from him fill the soundscape.

His phone stops ringing, and when he pulls out, you remain trapped under him. Rhett gives you one more slow kiss before he moves to pull off the condom, cleaning himself up. "I think that big brother of yours is lookin' for me." He charms, pulling his pants back up, zipping himself up.

"Seems like it does." You offer, squirming on the bed, not ready to get up yet. Rhett pulls his phone from his pocket, nodding and confirming that's who'd called.

This time, your phone starts going off.

Simultaneously, his does too.

Then there's a pounding coming from the RV door.

[valiixzce]

The Deaf Kid | Carl Grimes

|Carl Grimes x OC

|Warning: Spanish is my first language, so the translation is very poor.

TDK: “The sheriff and the bald man”

"Grandpa's Going to Kill Me"

That was Anne's first impression upon waking up on the dirty barn floor. She'd started coming here weeks ago just to get a glimpse of what she wanted: the farmers and people from the town near her family's farm.

They were all sick.

A virus or disease had recently struck, as Hershel and Anne's grandfather had always promised. From what little Anne knew, they were aggressive and would attack people no matter what. One of the reasons Hershel forbade the girl from even going near the place.

But she ignored him, as always.

The pain in her back (probably from sleeping on the floor all night before) didn't compare to the emotional ache she'd felt since her family was incomplete. Two important members were missing: Annette and Shawn, both sickened by the virus and taken to the old barn.

That's Anne's reason for sneaking here and defying her grandfather's rules.

Annette is her grandmother, and Shawn is her brother. Anne needed to see them every day like any other member of her family. In her innocent, twelve-year-old mind, that's a way to maintain normalcy.

Once standing, Anne looked down, her head sticking out of the security fence. The first floor was packed and occupied by sick people. They looked horrible, the girl thought. To some extent, it was true.

Her grandmother's face was partly disfigured, and her hands were peeling, even the small bones of her fingers were visible. Shawn, on the other hand, could barely move. In fact, everyone moved slowly, as if they didn't want to move at all; they seemed lifeless, dead.

Anne shook her head, trying to clear those negative thoughts. The matter was serious, from what she could see.

Scanning the room curiously, Anne noticed a hidden hen with its beak quivering.

"Maybe it was speaking in a peep."

The funny thing was that Anne didn't listen to him, she never did.

She's deaf.

Anne is and grew up deaf, raised as a deaf person would be, with more attention than normal. Her type of deafness wasn't temporary or accidental, it was from birth. The girl couldn't enjoy sounds she considered unattainable.

"It doesn't have to be bad. It's a different, unique perspective."

Her grandmother had always said that, but Anne didn't believe it. If she was different, she wasn't normal. Being different is bad. Anne always had that little annoyance when she realized things: she couldn't hear music, other children could. Heck, she couldn't even hear her own voice, other children could.

Reality hit her from an early age like a slap in the face.

Anne shook her head, clearing those negative thoughts. Her family always stressed that it didn't make her lesser; she just had to try a little harder than the rest, that's all.

She carefully left the barn using the back stairs. She didn't hear the noise, but the sick people did, and she didn't want to take any chances. Finally, outside, Anne hurriedly walked as if a serial killer were following her.

Anne turned her head and frowned when she found herself looking at almost the same thing.

Cronus.

That's what she had named the little black hen. It had always followed the girl around since she was born months ago. It was the reason Anne didn't feed the hens, and, in her words, they were very noisy with the smallest thing.

Anne walked across the plain to her bedroom window, her breath labored from the movement. She had never been good at strenuous physical activity.

She moved her hands through the small holes she had made herself and placed her foot in the first, lowest hole and began climbing them until she reached the half-open window.

Once inside, she managed to regulate her labored breathing and changed from her warm nightclothes to more casual summer clothes: pants and a tank top with a cute print.

She finished putting on her blue trucker hat in front of the full-length mirror in her room with a satisfied smile. Anne felt the wooden floor move slightly; it was the footsteps of her maternal figure, Maggie. Every day at the same time in the morning, she wakes her up for breakfast.

Yesterday, he promised waffles. Anne smiled at the memory, happiness rushing through her body in a matter of seconds, and she opened her bedroom door to find Maggie with her hand raised, ready to turn the knob.

"Good morning, Maggie," Anne smiled at the younger girl's enthusiasm and ruffled her brown hair.

"Good morning, Anne. Come downstairs, dinner's ready." Maggie waved her hands to convey her point.

"Hurry up, Otis will have my share." The younger girl took the short-haired girl's hand.

Both girls went downstairs, one faster than the other. The other members of the Greene family were in the dining room: Hershel and Beth, along with Otis and Patricia.

"Good morning, family!" Anne entered the room, her quick hand movements revealing her enthusiasm. Beth raised her hand in a "hello" sign.

"Good morning, squirrel," Hershel said loudly in sign language, causing Otis to smile at the nickname he'd given the little girl years ago.

Breakfast was laid out on the large table, and Anne sat next to Maggie, ready to enjoy her double-cream waffles with chocolate.

Patricia got up from the table and grabbed Beth and Otis's plates. They'd finished their meal, placed them in the sink, and began washing them spotlessly, just like she does.

Beth stood up, fixing her blonde hair in a low ponytail, and went to keep her boyfriend Jimmy company at the front of the house.

Anne watched her the whole way until she disappeared into the living room. She turned her head toward her grandmother, Hershel, raising her eyebrows. The older man sighed, causing Otis and Maggie to chuckle, which Anne watched, eager to hear.

The older woman approached her husband and placed a small kiss on his lips as a farewell. Maggie and Anne looked away, and their gazes met, turning into amused ones.

"I'm going hunting," the man in the military cap said, getting up from the table and picking up his rifle, which was resting on the table leg.

"See you later," Maggie told him before eating her food. Anne, for her part, said goodbye with a smile and a frantic wave.

"Grandpa."

"Yes, Anne?"

"What are our plans for today?" Anne put her fork down on her empty plate. The gray-haired man looked at her and sipped from his wineglass before answering.

"Nothing special." You and I are going to continue with our classes." She pointed at the younger woman. "And remember, you're not allowed near the chickens."

Anne nodded, getting up from her seat without clearing her plate. She left the two adults chatting at the table, while the older woman sighed over her uncleared plate.

──── 🦒 ────

"Watch carefully, daughter. The bandage has to be firm to keep everything in place but without cutting off circulation." The older woman showed the instructions on her own hand, placing a piece of bandage in the palm of her hand.

"I understand, tight but not too tight."

—"Yes, in other words—

"Dad!"

Hershel turned his head at Maggie's scream and headed for the entrance, Anne following behind him. Jimmy joined the aforementioned with a bat, along with Beth and Patricia.

A man covered in blood was running toward them with a child in his arms. Anne noticed his hat; it was a sheriff's. She was pretty sure the man must be someone good; officers are, right? The family watched the man approach and remained on the porch until Hershel spoke.

Luckily, the child wasn't bitten.

Anne stared at the strange boy, with short brown hair, like any other child. He was pale; she thought it was probably because of all the blood he was losing.

Watching the man in despair, Anne approached her family, her hand intertwined with Maggie's, just in case. The younger one came close enough to see the man's features; his dark brown hair was slightly soaked. from the sweat. His eyes were a light blue, like the sky, and his sheriff's uniform was covered in blood.

If it weren't for his expression of fear and agony, he would be very attractive.

Anne watched him until they decided to help him.

"Help my son!" The sheriff repeated the phrase once more, settling the little boy in his arms.

"Take him inside!" Hershel welcomed him into the house, listing everything they needed and giving orders to Patricia and Maggie. The two men entered an unoccupied room, carefully placing the injured boy on the bed.

Patricia complied, searching for the first-aid kit on a kitchen shelf. Maggie also went for the painkillers. Anne, for her part, went upstairs and opened the hall closet with backup sheets they used for sleepovers or when an animal got hurt.

Beth approaches her, and they both run down the stairs with the blankets and place them on the bed where the child is being treated. The man presses on the infant's wound, but Patricia pushes him aside, doing it herself.

"Move over." Hershel checks the boy's heartbeat. "We'll do everything we can."

The dazed man remains motionless, and Maggie asks him to move. He does so and tells Hershel his name.

"R-Rick... my name is Rick." The kid see at his trembling lips; it's a miracle she can understand him.

"Leave the room, now," Hershel orders, looking at him before continuing with the child. The sheriff leaves the house.

It's best to leave him alone to process it; it must be difficult to see someone you love hurt and possibly dying. Anne sat on one of the couches waiting for Otis, assuming he was the reason for the shooting while trying to hunt a deer for dinner.

She continues to play with her hands until Rick walks in with another man and Otis. The man with the big nose next to Rick watches her out of the corner of his eye before following him. Otis, for his part, strokes her hair, and she takes his hand as they walk alongside the group of adults.

──── 🧇 ────

Both ham and cheese sandwiches are on the plate the little girl is holding after preparing them for the men, assuming they must be hungry from running for miles.

Anne gently touches the shoulder of the man in the dark shirt with her index finger, catching both of their attention, and extends the plate to the sheriff.

She points at them both with the same hand and then at the plate, implying it's for them, even though it's obvious.

"Thanks, kid." The man thanks her, taking the plate instead of the sheriff, and tries to smile at the girl. She gives him a thumbs-up. The man looks at the sandwich and, about to taste it, Maggie calls out to them.

"Rick, Carl needs blood." Maggie opens the door and steps aside, letting them both in.

For her part, Anne stands in the doorway watching Rick's son shudder in pain, crying and screaming. A scene that sends chills down her spine as she imagines the excruciating pain he must be feeling. She looks away at Patricia, who takes Rick's arm to transfer the blood.

The girl leaves the room with Maggie and Otis. Some time later, the old man comes out, explaining the boy's situation and what they need to the boy's father. Otis offers to go look for him at school with Shane.

After agreeing on everything, they leave the house. Otis will go with Shane, and Maggie will look for Rick's wife.

Meanwhile, Anne stays in the living room for a few minutes before deciding to look for Beth. She goes upstairs to Beth's room. She knocks on the door three times in a row, and Beth opens it, letting her in excitedly when she sees who it is.

"Do you want to sleep with me?" the blonde asks the brunette.

"Of course."

Beth puts on a record with 80s songs. The girl nods her head even though she can't hear the music, but she likes the lyrics written on the back of the record sleeve. Her favorite is "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" by Cyndi Lauper.

Beth gets her attention by singing the song with a hairbrush as a microphone. She walks around her room, skipping slightly, exaggerating her expressions as she sings, causing the brunette to laugh loudly.

She does a little dance, moving her feet from side to side with her knees slightly bent, and takes one step back and two steps forward. She points one arm at me and gives me a thumbs-up before passing the hairbrush, also known as a microphone, to that hand, and places the other hand on her waist.

Anne claps, careful not to rub her hands too much. Shawn sometimes watched sports and clapped when his favorite team scored a point. He taught her not to high-five too much to avoid making too much noise, but still enough to get a round of applause.

Beth smiles, sitting on the bed in front of the girl before tickling her armpits, and she bursts out laughing, trying to move away.

They laugh together and then lie down on the bed, sighing, ready to fall into Morpheus's arms.

──── 🦒 ────

- Valiixzce!

[albatmobile]

a conundrum of redheaded proportions pt. 2

the second and final part of this ask!

𓅪 Rated: E | 6.5k includes: misunderstandings, confessions, selectively mute!reader, blow jobs, vaginal sex, deep throating, praise kink, spitroasting, begging, lots of smut y'all ur welcome, voyeurism, jealousy, Justice league AU

𓅪 previous hookup fem!reader x jason todd, eventual fem!reader x roy harper, eventual fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper

my Hero OC! Cardinal comes from this series: tumblr [1] [2] || ao3

It seems like fate that not even three days later Batman’s listing you off with Jason and him to lead a low-stakes mission with some of the younger, noob League members.

“Seems like we keep bumping into each other,” Roy teases you lightly before your squad’s debrief. 

You quirk your head questioningly and make to apologize as if you’ve actually bumped into him. 

“No, I just meant the other night,” he trails off unsurely, wondering if it’s too taboo to bring up you seeing him naked and hard in the hallway.

You don’t say anything, obviously, but you hardly even move. 

Shit, he fucked up. Again.

“Er,” Roy clears his throat subconsciously, “anyway, sounds like it should be a pretty easy in-and-out type of deal, right?”

You nod bashfully and give a lame thumbs up. 

Roy watches Jason sign something to you with a cheeky tinge to his movements and you respond with a flurry of sharp motions. None of it being anything Roy comes remotely close to understanding. 

Roy clears his throat and both of you stop with your hands mid-sign, faces nearly touching through the armor of your masks.

It’s Roy’s turn to quirk his head.

“She said she,” Jason starts out in an obvious lie that has you instantly flicking him off. “I didn’t even say anything yet, beautiful.” 

Put aside that Jason and you had just completely left Roy out of the conversation, now Jason’s giving you nicknames?

Fuck this.

“Uh,” Roy barely contains the urge to punch Jason in the stomach, knowing it’d only be in vain with Jason’s insanely padded bulletproof vest.

You huff in aggravation, looking from Jason to Roy.

“Fine, I won’t say anything.”

Okay, now Roy really feels like punching Jason. He’s supposed to be helping Roy hook up with you, not trying to steal you away for himself. 

Roy’s feeling the second-hand heat from the glare you’re undoubtedly shooting Jason’s way. He can’t help but feel like you’re talking about him and he really wants to know why Jason would be refusing to tell him.

You smack at his arm and clearly sign something before motioning your head toward Roy. 

“What’d she say?”

You shake your head in your hand. 

Jason pats Roy on the back. “First off, just because someone’s translating doesn’t mean you talk to her through me, dumbass,” Jason says as he motions to you. Roy gulps as he follows the movement. “Second of all, she said she doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Consider it gotten.

“Yeah, no,” Roy lies, sheepishly tugging his trucker hat lower. “No wrong idea from me, that’s for sure. Nada, baby.” God, can he shut the fuck up? “Sorry,” he says finally.

You shake your head hesitantly and look down at your hands like you’re unsure of something. When your head pops back up, you look to Jason before reaching over and squeezing Roy’s hand like a reassurance that you aren’t mad. 

“Shit babe, you should already know you can squeeze more than that,” Roy spews. He slaps a freckled hand over his mouth as soon as his word vomit catches up to him, but by then, it’s too late.

If you weren’t mad before, you definitely seem upset now.

It’s as if his words electrocute you back to reality, jolting the realization that you’d actually gone ahead with the action.

“Jesus,” Jason shakes his head like he can’t believe either of you, “it’s like watching a goddamned train wreck in slow motion.”

Roy, personally, can’t believe he keeps fucking up so tremendously with you.

It comes as a relief to all three of you when your ride shows up and the mission begins, preventing any further awkward mishaps.

𓅪𓅪𓅪

Jason takes control of the ship, sitting in the pilot’s seat before discreetly signing something to you. 

Roy hears you ‘tch’ before you sign something that Jason doesn’t need to translate for him. Without another word, well, sign, you saunter out of the cockpit, throwing one last look over your shoulder at Roy before walking to the back of the vessel.

It’s not fair.

It’s really not when your waist goes in so perfectly and your ass flares out unmistakably. Each sway comes with the cruel reminder he can’t touch it. He can’t touch you.

“God, she fucking hates me,” Roy sighs, slumping over in the jump seat. “God, I keep fucking up. I keep acting like a fucking pervert in front of her. It’s not fucking like me. I don’t know what’s going on,” he groans in frustration. “It’s like I’ve got zero fucking game around her and it’s really starting to piss me off. I can pick up any girl, but her? She’s seriously fucking me up, like, in the head and stuff, dude,” Roy cements his statement by jamming his index finger against his skull psychotically.

Jason clicks on the autopilot and gets up to shut the cockpit door, looking around to make sure no one’s overhearing them as he does so. When he sits back down, he removes Roy’s finger, which still remains against his forehead.

“You look and sound like you’re on fucking crack again, Roy.”

“It was heroin, but thanks. Always a class act to joke about addiction,” he mutters.

Jason can barely contain his eye roll. “Is it so hard to just, I don’t know,” Jason opens his arms dramatically like it should be the most obvious thing in the world to him, “be yourself? Don’t you think maybe, at the very least, that being yourself is a bit better than this weird, lame shit you’re pulling now?” 

Roy sits there, definitely not pouting, as he takes in his best friend’s words.

Jason knows the real him and still lets him hit, so maybe…

“You’re right,” Roy sighs. He slumps back in his seat, exhaling dramatically enough for Jason to roll his eyes again. “If anyone’s gonna help me understand her, it’s you.” As much as he hates to admit it, Jason’s the only one who can offer him any sort of sage advice right now. “What should I do?” he asks.

Roy’s expectant puppy-dog-look has Jason milliseconds away from clicking the eject button and leaving Roy to figure shit out on his own. While he does eye the button, his hands remain on his knees as he takes in his friend’s desperate demeanor.

“Consider this a mitzvah,” Jason says monotonously, finally deciding to divulge Roy. “I can tell you straight up that if all you want to do is fuck her, you’re going to keep fucking up because she’s not like that.”

Well, Roy definitely hadn’t been expecting that.

“All the two of you did is fuck,” Roy points out saltily. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you ditched me to go get your dick sucked.”

“Roy,” Jason rubs at the tension steadily forming between his brows, “what did we just talk about?”

Roy puts up his hands in surrender easily. “I swear, it’s not my fault. It’s like my filter’s completely gone,” he complains.

“You’ve never had one to begin with,” Jason states plainly. 

“Fine,” Roy gives in, motioning for Jason to continue. 

“So, it wasn’t just a one-time thing like I told you. It’s a bit more complicated,” Jason says, leaving Roy’s eyes to bulge. “We’d been talking ever since her split with Kate, but I didn’t want to take advantage of her. She told me she rushed into things with Kate, so she wanted to take things slow.” Jason shrugs. “You know, not like jumping into something right away. Anyway, I understood, so, in the end, I just got to know her.”

Roy shoots a knowing brow but doesn’t take the bait this time. “You seem to be forgetting I’ve also known her for years.”

“Knowing someone and knowing of someone are two different things. You and I both know that, Roy,” Jason points out. “When the time finally came that she was ready, probably like a year later, that’s the day I ditched you.”

“What happened after that?” Roy asks curiously.

“It was a one-time thing in the sense that it was only one day,” Jason says. His attention shifts to the closed cockpit door as if it might somehow magically open. “After that, I never pushed and she never reached out like that again. We both got consumed in missions. When we’d finally get around to catching up, she’d act all shy again with me.”

Jason almost sounds embarrassed about the whole ordeal. He clears his throat, moving to busy himself with the controls, seemingly to signal the conversation was officially over with.

Roy can’t help but think back to how the two of you acted earlier… like you guys were close.

Fuck.

He mentally berates himself for getting in the middle of his friend’s… uh, what exactly are you to Jason? His friend with benefits? 

No. 

Love interest? 

Roy chances a peak at Jason out of the corner of his eyes, but with his Red Hood mask on, it’s impossible to get a read on the stoic man.

This can’t be Jason’s way of telling Roy to back off, right?

“Tell me to back off and I will,” Roy says.

Jason’s helmet remains facing forward. “I could say the same for you.”

Just like that, the topic gets dropped for good and Roy’s no closer to any sort of clarity.

𓅪𓅪𓅪

Just like Batman had promised, the mission was get-in, get-out. 

The swamps of Louisiana refused to be left behind as its grime sticks around long after the hostile info swap with Swamp Thing. 

By the time you’re loading the dirty mutant teens back into the ship, Jason’s already calling dibs on the shower. You make sure everyone’s buckled securely into their seats before heading to the cockpit to let Jason know it’s safe for liftoff. 

Your interrogating skills could use some work, Jason signs.

He can’t explicitly see it, but he knows your brow is quirked under your mask. You mean lighting him on fire wasn’t protocol? you sign back.

“The fuck are you two jabbering on about?” 

Roy’s voice visibly startles you and your hands still defensively in front of your chest where they’d been signing. 

“Just rehashing the mission,” Jason says. He shrugs, moving to flip a few switches on the control panel.

“You mean how she lit that oversized weed bush up like a Christmas tree?”

You snort.

He’s not usually like this. Jason looks at you before tilting his head Roy’s way. He’s trying, though, Jason signs.

You wave him off with a huff, You’re delusional.

If you’d just fucking talk to him, you’re expecting his usual response to your concern, so you’re definitely not expecting what he signs next, you’d see you’re both being delusional.

You flip him off for the second time on the mission before slipping back into your seat in the main cabin so Jason can take off.

“Women.” Is the only explanation Roy gets before the ship shoots off into the boggy, yellow sky. 

Once the ship is set to fly on autopilot, Jason makes good on his dibs. His commanding boots stomp down the cabin aisle, shaking the entire aircraft as he does before coming to a halt in front of the bathroom. 

“The Justice League requires an immediate debrief to be written once a mission's complete,” Red Hood's robotic voice warbles menacingly. “You have until we’re finished with this report to wash the mud from your acne-covered faces. Take any longer and your ass will be spending the ride back to base with shampoo in your hair.” His gaze shifts across the rows of seats to solidify his point to the scared prepubescent mutants who’ve yet to move. “Might wanna get a move on if you plan to rinse and repeat.”

His helmet snaps your way, gesturing you to join Roy and him up front.

You shouldn’t scare them like that, you berate him. It’s mean.

“Sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t sound it. “Thought I was, at the very least, being gentlemanly considering I just handed you private shower access.” 

He doesn’t bother with signing once you’re both back in the cockpit, though you seem more focused on Roy. Even when Jason removes his helmet, you hardly react. 

Truth be told, your attention is making Roy extremely nervous. 

He’s already been overthinking, well, everything, but it’s worse now. 

He keeps second-guessing every movement he makes. Every single word he says feels wrong no matter how long he languishes over the right thing to say.

Case in point:

“Private showers?” Roy wiggles in his seat, similarly to how Lian so often would in her highchair.

“Yeah,” is all Jason says, with a pointed look your way. “You’re welcome. Now let’s fill out this corporate bullshit so I can get Swamp Thing’s things out of my crevices.”

Roy snorts when you shiver distastefully at Jason’s choice of words.

To his surprise, Jason hands you a notepad and you begin furiously scribbling out your responses. 

Meanwhile, Jason busies himself with recording Roy’s and his recollections of the mission. By the time they’re done recording, you’ve blown through six pages all filled to the brim with information. For some reason, he thinks it’s completely normal to give you a thumbs up because of this and mentally smacks himself when you respond by slamming the book shut before he can see it. 

The debrief goes over smoothly, with Roy only managing to make somewhat of an ass of himself, which he considers a new personal best.

The ‘somewhat’ quickly turns to ‘a complete’ when he decides to say, “You know, for someone who doesn’t talk a lot, you sure have a lot to say.”

Jason makes a hasty ‘abort’ gesture, but it’s too late. 

Roy’s fucked up for the fucking gazillionth time with you.

You don’t even react. Instead, you gesture for your phone from the ship’s safe. Jason hands it over easily enough, though he’s obviously not exactly sure where this is going.

Roy swallows heavily, focusing his attention on the setting sun, which casts a golden sheen on the clouds that pass by. He tries to block out your loud typing, but the fingertips of your costume tap thunderously against your screen until it’s all he hears. 

He thinks you’ll ignore him the rest of the way back until you’re suddenly flipping the screen around his way.

Jason makes a face at Roy as if to say, ‘I told you she’s into you.’

After chatting back and forth, Roy notices you shifting uncomfortably. 

Jason seems to understand immediately. “Roy, show her how to turn on the showers,” Jason insists. Roy gawks at his best friend, not missing the hidden meaning. Roy’s about to protest, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but you’re already up and nodding to the back of the plane. “And, for fuck’s sake,” Jason huffs under his breath to Roy, “don’t make me wait too long.”

On the shower, or…?

Roy shakes his head, placing a delicate hand on your back to guide you into the pretty clean ship bathroom, considering how many people had just used it.

Before he loses the courage, Roy strips and turns to give you a full view of his bobbing, pink-tipped cock. He watches you hesitate to remove your mask as if it’d been a secondhand reaction. Ultimately, you do pull it off, shyly biting your lip as he drinks in your godly beauty as if it’s the first time. 

You slink out of the rest of your costume at a tantalizingly slow pace as you step closer and closer to Roy.

“Think we should turn on the showers to drown this out?” 

You nod with half-lidded eyes as your hands slowly descend down his chest. 

The faucet squeaks as Roy fiddles with a good temperature, but you seem completely preoccupied with studying his cock. Your legs obscenely spread into a squat as you come face-to-face with his bobbing erection.

Roy has to restrain himself from smacking you in the face with his dick and forcing it down your fuckable throat for fear of scaring you off. 

You seem content to stroke him at a gentle pace, with your firm grip exposing and concealing his tip as his foreskin stretches around each stroke. You draw a dribble of precome and curiously flick at it with the tip of your tongue. Roy suddenly surges forward, grabbing a fist full of your hair to cushion your head as he pushes you completely out of the spray and against the shower wall. 

You release a small gasp before you’re back on his cock, this time with more fervor. Your tongue teases along his length, audibly slurping up the mess of spit you’ve left behind as you retreat.

“God, this is so embarrassing,” Roy whimpers, hips sputtering against your swollen lips. You quirk a brow at him as you pull off a move that leaves his knees shaky. “You’re so good to me, baby. There’s no way I’m gonna last, fuck.” You’ve started to deep throat him again and it’s all too much.

You’re too pretty and his one-off session with Jason did nothing to increase his rusty stamina. After a minute, he pulls out of your wet, hot mouth and spurts loads of thick come across your face and expectant tongue.

Absolutely sinful.

Once he’s breathing normally, he helps you stand up and begins babbling the moment your hand slips into his.

“I never thanked you for saving me from Enchantress of all villains, by the way,” he says when he finally comes down from the high. He’s not expecting you to respond. He just wants to get it off his chest.

You short-circuit, staring at him with an owlish gaze that leaves him mesmerized. 

Roy thinks he’ll never get used to looking into your eyes. The stunning mix of colors so unique to you, private to only him and, well, the rest of the redheads in the tower, but it’s something Roy can deal with if it means he gets to hold you close again.

Your mouth quivers and he thinks he’s said something wrong until you speak.

“I’ve had the biggest crush on you since we met,” you say. Roy’s mouth goes dry as a blush steadily creeps across your plump cheeks. He watches as you subconsciously tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “I thought you hated me, though,” you admit. Suddenly, your eyes flick down to where his dick is still twitching in the aftermath and add, “Okay, well. Yeah, I just sucked you off, but still.”

Your voice is sweet, soft and understated; everything Roy never knew he needed and more.

“Cap,” Roy says, leaving your head to tilt comically in confusion. The redhead bursts into laughter at the action. “I mean, you’re lying, babe.”

He hears a quiet gasp from you before you dramatically shake your head no, then seem to remember you’ve already revealed your voice and speak, “You intimidated me.”

Roy laughs again, “Me? Intimidate you? Oh, damn. Babe, please, you’re like the definition of intimidating. I kept thinking I was fucking up and that you’d gotten the wrong impression of me.” When he finally catches his breath, he shakes his head like he finally understands what’s been going on. “I definitely should’a had Jason hook us up earlier.” He pulls you back under the spray, murmuring with your face between his hands, “I’ve wanted you for so long, beautiful. You have no idea.” 

“I,” your ethereal voice cracks slightly from underuse. You clear your throat, “I always mistook your staring as you not liking me. Well, until the other night, then it finally clicked.”

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to hearing you speak.

“You mean when I got a hard-on at the sight of you alone?”

He watches you swallow with greedy eyes.

“Yes.”

He groans at your answer, feeling his restraint slipping again with each passing moment under your spell. “You gonna keep talking to me when we fuck, or are we gonna need some hand signals?”

You bite at your lower lip, causing Roy’s dick to twitch back to life in response. “I could talk to you forever, Roy,” you respond honestly.

His hips buck helplessly into the small amount of air that lies between the two of you. 

“Say my name again.” 

It’s a command you give in to easily; over and over. 

His gruff, gravelly voice is nothing like you’d ever heard on a mission before and it’s driving you crazy. Your clit twitches on command as his hands tighten into fists. It’s as if to hold himself back from taking you right here and now.

“Roy,” you tease, closing the remaining distance. Your chest squishes against his armor, eyes flicking up at him through your long lashes as if you don’t already have him completely wrapped around your finger. “I need you to fuck me.”

“You…” he trails off in a daze, searching your eyes for any signs of hesitation, “You need me to?”

In response, your eyes slide into slits and he still finds none. Your fingers trickle over his freckled shoulders, twirling around them tantalizingly slow like a promise that this is real. 

“I can’t come on my fingers just by thinking about you anymore,” you breathe, shaking your head lightly. He watches as you bite at your lip again. You’re so fucking sexy, holy shit. “Not since I saw you that one night,” you admit. Roy’s dick twitches eagerly in anticipation of what’s to come. “It’s not enough anymore. I need you, I need the real thing, Roy,” you’re practically moaning as you breathe his name against his lips. “Please, don’t make me keep begging.”

“Oh?” Roy’s fiery eyebrow quirks upward as a dominating confidence settles over him. “I think that’s exactly what you’re going to keep doing, baby.” Another twitch as you gasp from his words alone. “I want you to beg me until you’re about to come,” your mouth parts as lust overcomes you, visibly filling your eyes, “then I want you to beg me to stick my cock back in your wet cunt because you’re such a needy slut for me, aren’t you?” You unwittingly nod, completely enraptured by his raw sexual energy. “I want you to rut against it like the fucking whore I know you are until I finally give in and fuck you. Then and only then, are you allowed to come. Got it, princess?” 

Your eyes are wide, feeling slick already leaking out onto your inner thighs. “Yes, sir.”

“Oh,” he groans, allowing his hands to trickle down from the small of your waist to the dip right above your infamous ass, “you know exactly what you’re doing to me. Don’t you, baby?” Your fingers unclasp his remaining gear, stepping back slightly as it falls to the floor before closing the distance again. He feels your heart ramming up against your ribcage as you press into his now bare chest. “You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” he asks. Roy watches as your wide eyes flicker between his, searching their verdant depths helplessly and chuckles darkly, “You don’t have to say anything, princess. I got you. I’ll take real good care of you, I promise.”

You seem shocked that he understood your nonverbal cue and, to be honest, so is Roy. 

His dick is aching, practically humping your thick thigh with every movement of your swollen lips keeps causing it to bob up and down. Before he can stick it in, however, there’s a wiggle and twist on the bathroom doorknob.

You both panic, looking at each other with wide eyes, when you realize that neither of you had bothered to lock the door.

Roy scrambles to hide you, fully erect cock facing the intruder, only to sag in relief when he sees that it’s just Jason.

“It’s just me,” Jason says. The raven holds his hands up in faux-surrender. He hardly seems startled by your and Roy’s naked state. If anything, he looks pleased? “Was kind of hoping Roy’s shitty stamina would mean you’d be finished by now, but I refuse to sit in my sweat any longer,” he says nonchalantly, however his eyes flick to your bare face with the hints of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Shut up,” you say with no malice behind it. You find yourself blushing and duck in the safety of the junction of Roy’s freckle-spattered neck for solace.

Jason’s eyebrows shoot up briefly at your verbal response before he schools his surprise. “Well, don’t let me interrupt.” 

Jason then begins the motions of sudsing up his body, brow quirking when he feels the continued weight of your eyes on his movements. Roy would be pissed if he weren’t busy staring, too.

Roy’s jaw nearly drops when you place your hands against the shower wall, partially under Jason’s spray, partially under the one that's already on next to it.

You arch into the wall, wiggling your hips teasingly for Roy to come closer.

Jason’s eyes flicker down out of the corner of his eyes, watching as Roy watches him. Whether for support or permission, Jason doesn’t know, but he holds Roy's gaze, nonetheless. 

Roy’s cock bobs enthusiastically in response, wondering if this was all some fucked-up sex dream he was going to wake up from. Roy places gentle yet firm hands on your hips as he draws you backward against his erection. He paces himself, rubbing his tip against your slick entrance as his hands grope your ass in awe.

Jason's hard, spending a little too much time pumping his cock to spread his body wash for Roy not to notice. The way your head is pressed against the tiles keeps your face out of the spray but also means that you can see both Roy and Jason. 

You huff, arching your back even further 

“Talk to me, baby,” Roy practically purrs, grabbing a handful of your ass as his cock continues to rub against your slick folds. It’s enough friction to leave your legs shaking with want.

Your half-lidded eyes sear into Roy’s lower abdomen like a siren’s call and, boy, is Roy ready to go overboard.

“Please, Roy,” you moan as you press your ass against his hard cock. You wriggle backward, hoping to gain more traction, but he continues to taunt you with the promise of his heavy heat. “I want you to fuck me.”

“You need me to wreck that pretty little cunt of yours, baby?”

You nod, biting at the corner of your lip. Jason curses somewhere beside the two of you and it’s all the encouragement Roy needs to put on a show.

He drags his hands up your wet, lithe body as you perch so beautifully for him to take. He fondles your tits as he covers more and more your body with his own until his mouth is directly next to your left ear. On your right, Jason watches, emerald eyes lit with barely retrained want.

Roy smirks at his friend before turning his attention back to you. His deep voice rumbles lowly against the shell of your ear, “Beg.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, turning your head to the other side to capture his lips with yours. “I need you to fill me up, I’m so wet for you, Roy.” To prove it, you press backward into his erection- as if Roy wasn’t already restraining himself from fucking your cunt full of his come. “My pussy’s aching for you, please,” your sinful voice begs.

Jason’s remained entirely quiet up until this point. “Finger her,” he commands.

Roy barely holds himself back from shivering under Jason’s commanding tone, leaving him no choice but to obey. He teases you, tickling along your labia before briefly teasing your leaking entrance. Your mouth opens and produces a porn-worthy moan, only to remain open and empty when Roy finally reaches your clit.

Jason bites his lip, looking between you and Roy for permission to oblige to your body’s reaction. Roy looks down at you, but your tongue has already lulled out to accept Jason’s girthy cock.

Roy shifts the position so you’re all in between the two shower sprays. You’re bent over, in between the two muscular men, with your face eye-level with Jason’s bobbing cock. Meanwhile, Roy’s soft hands hold your hips steady as he lines himself back up with your entrance.

Once you’re all settled, you waste no time in surging forward to swallow around Jason’s impressive length. Spit trails down the sides of your mouth as you force him deeper down your throat.

Your muffled moans and sighs are all the encouragement Roy needs.

He whines pathetically when the tip of his cock finally breeches your tight entrance, waiting briefly as you become accustomed to his girth.

Your voice is godly, so it’s no wonder that the little pleased noises you make are heavenly. Your breathy moans echo across the small room as Roy finally takes what he’s always wanted. 

The wet heat of your cunt draws the most pathetic noises out of Roy as he slowly fucks his tip into you with a fluid motion of his freckled hips. Each shallow thrust leaves you aching and pressing back into him to beg for more.

“So good for us, aren’t you, baby?” Roy bites his lip impishly as he meets Jason’s half-lucid gaze head-on. Roy’s tip catches deliciously against your twitching cunt, forcing out a wanton moan that vibrates up to the very base of Jason’s cock.  

Without warning, Jason groans as he releases your hair. 

Roy looks questioningly at him before he’s pulled forward by his fiery hair to meet Jason’s eager lips. Roy can tell when you’ve begun sucking again because Jason’s lips become sloppier and more aggressive as they mesh against Roy’s chapped ones. When they break apart for air, Jason’s hand remains firm in Roy’s long, fiery locks. He pants, leaning his forehead against Roy’s while you eagerly work your body in between them.

Jason takes it upon himself to punish your ass cheeks while Roy uses his free hand to tangle in your tresses and tug. All the while, the men remain connected by their violent clashing of spit and teeth above your pliant arch. You feel your inhibitions deliciously slipping with every passing moment.

For once, you’re not being quiet.

If anything, it seems like Jason knew the only way to shut up your sultry whines was with his cock. The thought alone nearly sends Roy over the edge again.

He breaks away from his raven-haired best friend to grab desperately for your swinging tits. His gentle hands squeeze and jiggle them with his thrusts slowing.

“Don’t wanna come again, baby,” he whimpers, flicking your nipples so that you unleash an equally pathetic noise. 

Jason smirks. “Fuck that.”

You get no further warning before Jason’s calloused hand comes down on your ass cheek. His thick cock catches the majority of your pleasured scream, though not completely. Roy rubs the spot, completely hypnotized at the red shape forming across your skin, then quickly pulls away and motions for Jason to repeat the erotic action.

With each hit, your moan reverberates around his cock deliciously. 

A particularly hard smack forces Jason deeper into your pliant throat until he’s forced to grab a fistful of your hair to control the pace.

You feel entirely filled. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the realization as you allow your biggest crushes to use your body in the best way.

“Yeah,” Jason says darkly. At the same time, he grabs your chin, squishing your cheeks in the process as he ruthlessly fucks against your swollen lips. His voice is a dark timbre that shakes every particle of your being. “Take that shit, you fucking slut,” Jason hisses. He wraps his hand around your hair again as he reaches forward to smack your ass.

Your hips stutter as you whimper against the dominant pace of Jason’s hips against your mouth. “Fuck,” you whimper.

His eyes contain an emerald ire, as if he’s just barely restraining himself from pushing Roy aside and fucking you like he knows you like. You can’t help but stutter forward, body spasming in Roy’s secure grasp as your orgasm releases a euphoric, chilling heat all across your body.

Jason removes his dick, moving to support your weight with Roy as they savor every wrecked moan that crackles from your abused throat.

They only allow you to recover for so long before Jason smacks his veiny cock against the side of your mouth for you to open again. “Just like that,” he rumbles your name out lowly. “Good girl.” He nods at Roy who follows his lead and smacks your ass, reveling in how your abused cheeks jiggle salaciously in response.

Jason drags his cock in and out of your swollen, spit-covered lips a few more times before he maneuvers himself into a crouch.

“What are you-" you start, but his gentle fluttering against your clit cuts you off immediately. 

His rough hand instantly stifles your wrecked moan. “I know you can come again,” Jason says, drawing another pathetic weep from you. “That’s right, you’re gonna show Roy what a slut you are, aren’t you?” Your thighs unwittingly snap shut around Jason’s skillful fingers, only to instantly be forced back open with a dark smirk. “There we go.”

His dark green eyes capture yours as he slurps at his slick-covered fingers before shoving them down your throat.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He chuckles darkly, looking between his two-fucked out partners with a sadistic glee only Jason could harbor. He shoves his calloused fingers further down your throat, earning a low moan that vibrates straight down to his cock. You wriggle impatiently and he gets the message. Jason’s free hand snakes teasingly down your panting torso to tickle your pulsating clit while his other hand fucks into your obedient throat.

With his expert fingers, it’s no surprise that you come again.

Your wobbly knees nearly give out to crumble down onto Roy’s dirty, discarded uniform on the floor below you. Luckily, he catches you before you can come back into contact with the disgusting swamp muck. 

Roy forces his dick back inside your overly-sensitive cunt without missing a beat.

“Roy!” you exclaim as the overwhelming yet welcomed stretch starts up again. Your thighs have yet to stop shaking, but if anything, it only makes Roy fuck into you with reckless, primal abandon. 

His freckled hips snap in and out of your doubled-over body at a toe-curling pace while Jay pumps his cock at the desperate display.

Roy doesn’t last much longer after your second orgasm.

The lewd sound of his dick squelching in and out of your slick-filled pussy, coupled with the clenching of your fluttering heat does him in.

What Roy doesn’t expect is for Jason to watch him come so carnally. 

“You good?” Jason’s voice rumbles lowly like a predator closing in on his prey. It draws another spurt of come from his sore dick with a pained groan.

“Fuck, Jay,” he pants as he looks between you and his friend. 

Roy tiredly crumbles to the dirty uniforms below with you still in his arms. You willingly follow, too exhausted to remain standing.

“Don’t think I’d mind seeing the two of you like this again,” Jason says. He stands from his crouch, staring down at the two of you with a domineering demeanor. “Shit. Yes,” he groans when you and Roy move toward his thick cock in transfixed unison. “So fucking good.”

You and Roy share Jason nicely, taking turns licking lewdly up and down his veiny length. It takes a moment to find a rhythm, but once you do, you’re eagerly sucking and exchanging heavy-lidded glances with the redhead beside you.

Roy takes over, flicking and moving his tongue obscenely for your pleasure. When he pulls off, he spits onto Jason’s dick, causing it to bob up and down in arousal. You waste no time in slurping it up, using it as lube to work Jason’s cock deeper down your throat. This, however, only lasts so long before Roy’s grabbing the back of your head to pull you in for a messy, toe-curling kiss.

He stares down at Roy’s noisy slurps, then at your teasing flicks with barely concealed dark want hiding behind his slitted emerald eyes.

He’s rough with both of you, taking a fistful of each of your hair to intermittently draw each of you down onto his cock, one after the other. If no one had heard you getting the best orgasms of your life earlier, they were now definitely hearing Jason’s gasps and curses clear as day.

You feel Roy’s eyes on you the entire time. Normally you’d be anxious with his undivided attention, but right now, it only spurs you to suck in Jason’s length deeper. You moan around his cock, feeling tears trickle out onto your cheeks as you finally manage to reach his hairy base.

Roy’s hands flit across your body, finally landing on your tits as he leaves open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive neck. You instinctively lean into the touch, eyes rolling to the back of your head, when Jason slowly begins to rock in and out of your throat.

They’re both unable to tear their eyes away from the show you’re putting on, but it does stop Roy’s breathy question, “You like having both of us sucking your dick, Jay?”

“Shut up, Harper,” Jason groans as he halfheartedly glares down at the redhead. 

All at once, your deep-throating ceases as Jason replaces your mouth with Roy’s.

You watch as Roy gets a far more aggressive treatment as if they’ve done this before. Jason’s brows furrow together as his long fingers regain their grip on Roy’s fiery tresses before snapping far down into his throat at a brutal pace.

You gasp at the sight and are even more surprised they both falter to look at you.

“I-" What do you even say? ‘This is the hottest shit I’ve ever seen and I want both of you in me at the same time’?

“Well,” Roy smirks wolfishly after he pulls off of Jason’s red-tipped cock with a lewd ‘pop,' “I’m down.” Jason’s biting down painfully on his lower lip, cock gripped strongly in his fist as he wills himself not to come from your words alone. Seeing this, Roy, of course, doesn’t let him off the hook so easily. “Would you want that, Jay? You want to feel that wet, tight cunt again while your dick rubs against mine?”

You’ve never seen someone come so fast.

Jason’s lips part slightly as he pumps his hot come all across your and Roy’s fucked-out, sweat-glistened bodies. His moan is breathy, slightly broken as the last of his orgasm spurts out across the two of your expectant tongues.

“Fuck,” Jason curses. He stares down at both of your slumped, sticky bodies like he’s trying to figure out if this is actually real.

By the time you’re all done making up for all the lost time, your fingers have pruned and your legs are too wobbly to hold your body. Needless to say, the quick trek back to the cockpit is the worst walk of shame any of you have ever experienced.

A/N: this was a total self indulgent fic- i hope you enjoyed and lmk if you did! I've been in a huge creative rut recently :\

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[riotwritesthings]

Who Guards the Bodyguard

T, 3k - No-Powers AU, Humor, bodyguard!Bucky

One college bar, one bodyguard, one sleazeball who can't take no for an answer. Shaken, not stirred.

Hey remember when I took birthday prompts, like… 9 months ago? Good times. Anyways guess what I finally finished.

The prompt was some combination of “You’re my new bodyguard and you’re cute” / “Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second” / “I’m going to save you from the terrible date you’re having” So I really just mashed all of those together and ended up with this lol. I hope you enjoy it @clarajanedesperaux!

~

This job is supposed to be easy.

All Bucky has to do is keep an eye on a billionaire’s spoiled, wild son and make sure the kid doesn’t end up kidnapped or otherwise killed. Easy.

And yet, it has not been easy, most notably because Tony Stark can’t know that Bucky is guarding him. Howard had been very insistent about his son’s ability and determination to ditch his previous bodyguards, and half of the stories were honestly impressive if true. So Bucky has a very strict set of guidelines to follow that most days make him feel more like a stalker than anything else.

He gets a ping whenever Tony leaves the Stark family’s Fifth Avenue mansion, and satellite tracking makes it quick work to follow him anywhere in the city. Bucky’s not exactly sure how Stark has GPS-tagged his son, but he’s not paid to ask questions.

He’s paid to put his experience in black ops and undercover work to good use and not be seen while he’s following a twenty-year-old around the city making sure no one kills the kid.

Totally normal, super easy.

Yeah right, Bucky thinks to himself in bemusement as he watches Tony over the rim of his beer.

This is the third bar the Stark heir has been to tonight, and Bucky really must be getting old because all he wants is to go home.

He’d kind of like to tell Tony to go home too, and not just because it would mean Bucky could go back to his apartment to hang out with his cat. It’s because he knows what Tony is doing, he knows the rotating cast of friends that meet Tony at one bar just to abandon him at another. He knows how damn lonely that is.

He might be watching from a distance, but Bucky is pretty damn good at what he does and he can tell there’s a lot more to Tony than the kid lets on. He’s got a bigger heart than he likes to show and hidden scars, he deserves better than fake friends and a father who won’t even give him a chance.

But that’s none of Bucky’s business.

Two more bars later, Bucky is feeling a lot less generous towards his charge. This place is too damn crowded, and loud, and Bucky has to keep moving around to keep Tony in his sight. And for what, just to watch him half-heartedly flirt with some asshole in a trucker hat, of all things? The kid could at least have the decency to have some taste.

Bucky forces down some more unsavory thoughts about trucker-hat-douche as he slides onto another seat at the bar and waves for a refill on his beer. He pointedly ignores it when the guy on the next stool spins to face him, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on Tony near the pool table across the bar. Even if he wasn’t working right now, he is in no mood and he does his best to convey that with the side of his face.

The asshole doesn’t take the hint though, and Bucky can feel the weight of his sleazy smirk as he asks, “Well hello, you come here often?”

“Nope,” Bucky says shortly, which is conveniently both true, and will hopefully cut off any further conversation.

"That makes sense,” the man says with a nod and a widening smirk, continuing to ignore all of Bucky’s not-so-subtle hints, “I would remember seeing you before.”

He probably thinks it sounds flattering, but he just comes across as gross. Bucky takes his eyes off his charge just long enough to glance over at the man next to him, taking in his flushed, sweaty face. The asshole is definitely drunk, probably completely hammered, and Bucky doesn’t want to deal with this.

He fixes his eyes forward again, hoping the guy will at least take one of his hints if he just keeps throwing them in the asshole’s face.

“C’mon, I’ve seen you moving all around the bar,“ the man says, because of course he can’t just give up. ”It’s obvious you’re looking for something, only to wind up next to me,“ he continues in what he probably thinks is an alluring tone, ”there’s no reason to play hard to get now.”

"‘M not playing anythin’,” Bucky snaps, cutting his gaze to the side just long enough to give the man a sharp glare, "and I’m not interested."

The asshole on the next stool just laughs, and Bucky can smell the vodka on his breath as he leans closer. “Don’t be like that,” he says with another slimey laugh, “you don’t even know me yet, and I’m very interesting.”

Bucky lets himself outright scoff at that, because he very seriously doubts that this bar-regular who can’t take no for an answer has any sort of hobby that Bucky would find interesting. He can see it from the corner of his eye when the asshole scowls, when his fingers curl tighter around his drink, and Bucky sighs internally.

“What, you think you’re too good to even give me the fucking time of day?” The guy demands, abandoning his attempt at a sultry tone in favor of a snarl. It sounds more natural for him, honestly.

There are a lot of ways Bucky could answer that.

He could point out that technically at this point it would be ‘time of night.’ Or he could get brutally honest and say that while he doesn’t usually think very highly of himself at all these days, he does still think he can do better than this random bar asshole. Maybe not a whole lot better, but better.

Instead of saying anything at all though, Bucky reluctantly tears his eyes away from the Stark heir across the small bar. He turns to finally face the man next to him and fixes him with a dry, expectant stare, quirking an eyebrow and letting the man fill in how ‘interesting’ Bucky thinks he is for himself.

The asshole’s face starts to twist with rage, but he smooths it out again with what looks like a fair amount of effort before saying, “Well, how about you let me buy you a drink and give me sixty seconds to change your mind.”

“No,” Bucky says shortly and starts to turn away. But then the man starts to reach for him, like he’s going to grab Bucky’s shoulder to stop him, and Bucky goes tense all over.

Part of him, a big part, wants to break this asshole’s wrist and be done with it, but that would draw way too much attention. He doesn’t trust himself to grab the man’s hand without breaking something, and he can’t even risk punching the jerk when his entire job relies on Tony never noticing him.

So Bucky has to settle for moving out of the asshole’s reach, shifting half off of his stool to accomplish it, and glaring harder as he snaps, "Do not touch me."

If the man was less drunk, and less of a dick, there’s no doubt that Bucky’s best death glare would be enough to chase him off. But he is a drunk asshole, so instead of running he grits his teeth and narrows his eyes.

“Listen, asshole,” the guy starts and Bucky does outright laugh at that, sharp and mocking.

He’s not surprised that the man’s face flushes an angrier shade of red, but Bucky really couldn’t help himself. The asshole continues to sputter for a second before sliding ungracefully off his stool and pulling himself up to his full height, wobbling slightly in the process.

“I don’t appreciate you- fuckin’- talking down to me,” the asshole spits furiously, but Bucky isn’t listening to him anymore.

With a sigh, Bucky slides the rest of the way off of his own stool and he can only hope that Tony is still distracted with the trucker-hat-douche because this is definitely about to become a scene. At least it’s somewhat gratifying to watch the drunk stumble back half a step when Bucky pulls himself up to his full height and squares his shoulders, but it doesn’t look like the man plans on backing down.

“Last chance to walk away,” Bucky warns because he has had it with tonight. At this point he will be perfectly happy to get kicked out of this shitty bar and fuck this job.

The asshole has his mouth open to respond, but then his eyes go wide as Bucky feels someone winding their arms around his and plastering themself tightly to his side. Bucky feels his own face twitch in shock when he jerks his gaze to the side and realizes that it’s Tony clinging to him.

Tony, who Bucky is supposed to be keeping an eye on, and who is not supposed to even be aware of Bucky’s existence. Tony, who is smiling up at him like Bucky isn’t a complete stranger to him, like he knows Bucky.

“There you are, hot stuff,” Tony says, his tone as familiar as his grin, and Bucky has a terrible feeling about the future of his employment. “I was starting to think you were standing me up,” Tony continues, fluttering those long eyelashes up at him.

The eyelashes that Bucky has tried so hard not to notice, but he’s sure as hell noticing them now.

Even caught off guard, and maybe a little distracted, Bucky isn’t a complete moron. He knows what Tony is doing, so he quickly pulls it together and works up a smile of his own.

“Wouldn’t’ve been so hard t’ spot you if you’d picked a less crowded place,” Bucky finds himself saying, because he can’t not complain about this dive bar now that he’s been given the chance.

Tony throws his head back with a laugh, and Bucky does not let himself get caught up in the sound of it. Not even a little.

“I * knew* you would hate it,” Tony says gleefully and the light in his eyes isn’t just teasing, it’s knowing.

Like Tony actually chose this bar just to annoy him, and Bucky is officially in so over his head.

He is also reluctantly charmed, and Bucky can’t fight down a tiny grin of his own even as he shakes his head and says, “You-”

“Hey,” the asshole interrupts, apparently not happy with being completely ignored.

He’s glaring at both of them now, and Bucky automatically shifts so he’s a little more between the drunk and the person he’s supposed to be secretly bodyguarding. He can at least still do half of his job. Tony grins at him like he knows exactly what Bucky is thinking, and hell, he probably does. Just like it’s probably no accident that Tony is wrapped around his good arm, making it much less likely that he’ll throw a punch.

Nothing would really surprise Bucky at this point, Tony is so damn smart and apparently Bucky has been underestimating him, too. And apparently, Tony has been watching him back, and Bucky has no idea what to do with that.

When the asshole makes another impatient sound Tony finally deigns to look over at him, barely tearing his gaze away from Bucky long enough to flit his eyes over the man from head to foot.

“Bye,” Tony says, his tone artfully dismissive, and then goes right back to grinning up at Bucky like the other man doesn’t exist.

To Tony’s credit, his cold, superior tone has the asshole automatically taking a step backward, even as he sputters, "Dude, wh- what the fuck-"

“What part are you not getting?” Tony asks, one sharp eyebrow crawling up his forehead as he slowly turns to face the asshole again, like he’s still unconvinced that the man is worth the effort. ”He was looking for someone, now he’s found me,“ Tony continues as he smoothly fits himself under Bucky’s arm, ”no part of this has anything to do with you, so you can go ahead and leave now."

Bucky can’t quite bite down his laugh when the drunk man sputters dumbly again, and the tiny grin that Tony flashes up at him has Bucky’s heartbeat doing truly concerning things in his chest. But he’s not thinking about that, just like he’s not thinking about the way his arm has automatically fallen around Tony’s shoulders, the way Tony fits perfectly against his side.

“L-Listen here, you little-” the asshole stutters and then trails off, his face going scarlet as he seems to notice all of the people staring at them.

"Little what?" Tony asks coldly, the look on his face just daring the asshole to come up with something that Tony hasn’t been called before. Bucky is equal parts impressed, enraged at his employer all over again, and trying his best not to be completely smitten.

The asshole’s face is nearly purple as his eyes dart from side to side, taking note of the increasing number of people watching them with open interest and amusement.

“Fuck this,” he grumbles and finally starts to back away, deciding to save what little face he has left in front of this crowd of college douchebags. He apparently has to try and get the last word though, because as he turns he shoots Bucky a final glare he loudly mutters “I could do better anyways.”

“Doubt it!” Tony calls after him gleefully, and the on-looking crowd laughs. Then he turns his bright grin up at Bucky, and oh, fuck.

Bucky is so fucking fucked.

“Do you want to get out of here, now?” Tony asks, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” Bucky groans instantly and emphatically, all thoughts of his imminent unemployment momentarily forgotten in the force of his relief over getting to leave.

Being caught by Tony is the least of the rules he’s broken, but he can worry about that later, or maybe never. It’s not like anyone needs to know that he’s been slowly but surely failing the first rule of bodyguarding over months of catching glimpses of the real Tony. Except Tony might know, because he’s been watching Bucky back.

And Tony is still grinning smugly as he starts to drag Bucky out of the bar with his arm still looped comfortably around Bucky’s waist, staying plastered to his side. Bucky has no idea if it’s necessary or not, he can’t tear his eyes away from Tony to see if the asshole is still hanging around.

He does spare the most fleeting thought for the trucker hat douche that Tony was flirting with before, but that’s only to think that at least this mess is getting Tony away from that asshole. Tony deserves so much better, of that Bucky is sure, he’s had way too much time to think about it while watching Tony flirt with every type of douchebag.

Once they’re out in the cool night air Bucky drags in his first deep breath in what feels like hours, relishing in the slightly less disgusting smells of the city. At least there’s less old-vomit smell.

When Tony snickers Bucky looks over at him again, honestly not sure what to make of the teasing, knowing smile on Tony’s face.

”So, where to now?“ Tony asks innocently, like he’s not still actively throwing Bucky’s life into chaos.

”Off to look for a new job, probably,“ Bucky grumbles, but he can’t actually force any annoyance into his voice. It’s not like he actually likes this job, after all, but…

He’ll probably never see Tony again, once he’s fired, and that thought sends a sharp pang through his chest that Bucky is trying not to think about too hard. Tony is still staring up at him as they start to aimlessly wander down the sidewalk, apparently trusting Bucky not to run them into any street signs, and Bucky is trying not to think about that either.

”Why?“ Tony asks, sounding genuinely confused, and then he pouts as he adds, ”I can go back to pretending not to notice you, is that more fun? Little weird, big-time stalker vibes, but I can work with that.“

Bucky huffs out a laugh, then raises an eyebrow as he asks, ”“S that what you’re into? That why you haven’ ditched me yet, like all th’ others?”

“Give yourself some credit,” Tony says, patting his side, “I did try at first, but you’re hard to shake. Plus, you’re much cuter than the rest of them were.”

Bucky tears his eyes away from Tony’s teasing, flirty grin, looking back down the dark street and trying to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks. ”Maybe I’m jus’ sick of bein’ dragged to college bars,“ he says after a pause that’s probably tellingly long.

”Okay,“ Tony says agreeably, and when Bucky looks over at him in surprise, he finds Tony grinning up at him with an almost hopeful look in his eyes as he asks, ”How do you feel about burgers?“

Bucky finds himself trailing to a stop, still staring at Tony, who stopped right along with him and is now watching with a nervous little smile, like maybe he thinks the ‘better’ that he deserves is somehow Bucky.

For a second all Bucky can do is stare, his mouth gone completely dry. He has to lick his lips, watching Tony’s clever gaze track the motion, before he can croak out, “Seems like I’m gonna be fired for a different reason.”

Tony laughs, delighted, and starts leading him down the street again as he asks, ”What are you talking about? What better place to guard me from than up close and personal?“

Bucky is pretty sure that the elder Stark would not agree with that statement, but like hell is he going to be the one to point that out. He knows this is probably a terrible idea, and he’s definitely going to get fired for this sooner or later, but with any luck, it won’t be the last time he sees Tony.

”So, burgers?“ Bucky asks as he tightens his arm a little more around Tony’s shoulders, and when Tony smiles wider Bucky finally lets himself acknowledge the way it makes his heart flip over itself in his chest.

[blouisparadise]

There were some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of January. We really hope you enjoy this list and show these fics love. Happy reading!

1) Strawberry Cake | Teen & Up | 1,789 words

When Louis gets stuck in a bad situation at a bar, Harry steps in to help.

2) Intoxicated | Mature | 2,156 words

“Could, I-uh- get a drink, perhaps?” The stranger asks. Louis snaps back. Quickly closing his mouth and attempting to respond to the deep and surprisingly demanding voice. “Oh, I’m sorry but we are closed for the day” Louis responds. In all honesty he could have made the man a drink, but the lack of supplies Louis had thus far prevented him from offering anything but a half drunk bottle of beer. “But the door was open.” The person retrots. Inviting himself further into the establishment and seating himself down on one of the tables. Louis knits his eyebrows together out of confusion. He also stops admiring the man and feels annoyance building up instead. “Yes, the door was open, but my bar is still closed.” Louis replies. Annunciating the fact that he was in charge so his words could be taken more seriously by this customer that was turning from charming to sour.

3) I’ll Love You When The Oceans Dry, I’ll Love You When The Rivers Freeze | Explicit | 2,515 words

Harry and Louis are on vacation with their friends. Louis gets very drunk so Harry takes him back to his hotel room. He sees text exchanges about Louis liking some guy and he gets jealous so snoops more and realizes it is him. In the morning, Louis realizes that Harry snoops and secrets are revealed.

4) Powerless (And I Don't Care) | Explicit | 4,061 words

Everyone on tour calls each other daddy, don’t ask why. And Louis is so used to calling everyone “daddy” that, when he finally comes home, naturally he calls Harry that.

5) Now You Hang From My Lips | Explicit | 6,292 words

Louis gives him an appraising look—starting at the soles of his expensive shoes and ending at the top of his head. “Just a drink,” he answers, because he loves this part—the chase. He loves having someone hanging on his every word and if there’s one thing for sure he’ll make somebody work for it. If H isn’t down for that, if he gives up too easily then it wasn’t meant to be anyways. Because that’s the other half of it, Louis also wants someone who will put him in his place. “Well in that case, I’ve got room with a minibar. Why don’t you come upstairs with me and you can have whatever you want.” Bingo.

6) Mother In Law | Mature | 8,070 words

Harry has been watching Louis from afar for about a month, but he refuses to call himself a stalker. He just admires him, not following him like a creep. Until one day, Louis approaches him. They have sex. Harry finds out that Louis is rich and he feels insecure. He decides that he needs to let Louis go. The problem is Louis falls deeper.

7) Behind Smoke Stained Curtains | Explicit | 19,054 words

It was a particularly lonely night when Harry walked through his door with a flurry of snow. He was a little rough around the edges with a trucker hat pushed down over untamed long hair. He looked a little greasy, a shower definitely not in his recent past. His tan Carhartt work coat was smudged with dirt and oil and caked with grime, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. The scent was overwhelming as soon as he walked in, unmasked alpha from days on the road stewing in a cab of his own pheromones. Louis was sure it was so deep into the fabric of his coat that no amount of washing would ever truly remove the stench. The worlds align when Louis meets an alpha from the road with as many secrets as he holds himself.

8) Sunshine (You Temptress) | Explicit | 26,870 words

All it took was one idiotic dare, one boy, one night. He’s twenty eight years old, six months fresh out of possibly the worst break up you could ever imagine, and his Friday nights are spent fucking a nineteen year old stranger. He’s still not completely sure how it happened.

10) The Road Not Taken | Explicit | 35,285 words

Louis’ not paying attention as his phone unlocks, and he’s shocked when the thread opens and there’s only one message there from an unknown contact. I’m home. For a minute he assumes it’s got to be a wrong number, and before he can decide whether to just ignore it or send a response the three dots show up and then a second message. It’s Harry by the way. And finally a third right after that. Are you busy tonight?

11) You Could Be The One That I Love | Explicit | 39,797 words

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Niall waved off. “Now, let’s talk man to man to man. You two have had a crush on each other since uni. Now’s your chance to finally get something going. I could see the sparks and connection and attraction back then and I can still see it now, God damn it! You’re just denying fate at this point.” He looked impassioned, his blue eyes wide and imploring. Louis shook his head again and chuckled. “You can’t just snap your finger and expect us to, like, get it on.” “I’m not,” he reasoned. “I’m merely telling you to do something about it.”

12) Paradise Is Getting Closer | Mature | 52,685 words

Louis hated his life, which consisted only of death and destruction. Despite the lives he had saved and continued to save, a part of him couldn't feel satisfied. He had been the one who gave up a normal life and although he knew what was to come, the loneliness had never left him in all these years, not even for a second. He felt it in his heart every time he approached a target, he felt it in the few minutes before falling asleep in his dingy car or while he allowed himself a few hours of sleep before setting off again, and he felt it every time he closed that door behind him.

13) Don't Want No Other Shade Of Blue | Explicit | 58,638 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis. “All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and oh, he’s so handsome I can barely pour his tea without shaking!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.” “As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”

14) Men Are Shit | Explicit | 77,728 words

Welcome to Louisland. Here you'll find fluffy socks, chaos and always enough alcohol to toast the fact that all men are shit.

15) You Were My Because | Explicit | 109,089 words

Note: Please remember to check tags for any trigger warnings.

Louis has battled the demons of his past for years now and has little hope of finding happiness for himself. Especially now that a school reunion is taking place and the memories of his school days are suddenly coming back with full force. But after rain always comes sunshine, in Louis’ case in the form of his old schoolmate Harry. A story about healing, friendship, finding trust and love.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[violetmuses]

Chances - A. Aretas 🌿

Title: Chances - A. Aretas (Small Town AU) 🌿

Fandom: Bad Boys Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: You join Armando's neighborhood.

Author's Note: Here is another quick drabble request. Enjoy! 💜 @nobodygetsza

=====

2024

His mother Isabel passed away years ago, but still offered an inheritance. Meanwhile, his estranged father, Detective Mike Lowrey, joined the famed Miami Police Department.

Now, leaving South Beach to find peace and quiet, Armando Aretas reached this small town, using planned money to settle in other ways.

One day, word spread that someone new entered the neighborhood.

Even while you unpacked belongings, Armando somehow daydreamed.

You, this beautiful and most likely sweet person, handed out water bottles as workers dealt with this ongoing heatwave.

By nightfall, he grinned for the first time in quite a while and looked forward so much more.

_____

“How's everything?” The store clerk rang up your items and offered small talk.

“Good.” You beamed, thankful while air conditioning eased this place.”I'm new in town, so….”

“Welcome.” The clerk finished working with you and helped other people in line. Come again.”

Just as you planned on leaving the store, someone else walked in.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” You nearly pushed one stranger with your shopping cart as this man veiled brown eyes, wearing this trucker hat.

“It's okay.” This stranger moved out of the way first and gave room for you to step near that parking lot. “Have a good one.”

“You, too.” You pull feelings together and leave after packing the trunk, not freaking out in public.

So embarrassing.

______

After coming home and putting away groceries, you found this note waiting in the mailbox.

It was me. Don't worry. - Neighbor 😂

Oh, no! You almost panicked and immediately remember what happened at the store.

You didn't learn his name yet, but this gentleman keeps massive farmland settled right across from your house. Even horses roam on cooler days.

Just as you'd share lemonade and apologize, the doorbell rings.

“Hey…” Opening that front door, you almost gaped.

"Hi, I'm so sorry for what happened earlier.“

‘No need to apologize.” His slightly accented English revealed itself more. “Armando.”

“Hello, Armando.” You finally greeted this man in person.

And two years later, you married him.

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

here to stay | rhett abbott x oc

Summary: Tessa gets Rhett a gift she worries is too much. (wc: 1960)

Requested: YES by @oneelleandaneye

Warnings: just rhett and tess being couple goals, mostly fluff but it takes a sharp suggestive turn at the end there it is literally not my fault rhett abbott is a dog

✎……MASTERLIST

Finishing up the wrapping with the last bit of tape, Tessa bit her lip anxiously. 

It wasn’t his birthday and it wasn’t even their anniversary, either. Hell, they hadn’t even reached six months, let alone one year, of dating. As she stared down at the blue and white striped paper, she wondered if she should just forget about it. Hide it until a more appropriate date or just return it. 

God, but she spent so much money on it. Custom made to her specifications, hand crafted by a guy out in Montana who still did it the traditional way like the old cowboys. Of course, Rhett could never find out how much money she actually spent on the gift. He would put up a fuss about how it could have been spent on something more important than him. Literally anything other than himself. Speaking like it was a simple and immovable fact that he didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. With those blue eyes downcast and cheeks flushed and a slight shake of his head — sincere in his denial and assertion. 

Part of her wondered if he would react that way even if he didn’t know how much she spent. 

Maybe this was a dumb idea after all.

With a sigh, Tessa got up from the floor and picked up the wrapped gift from the coffee table. Hiding it was probably her best option now. Deep in a closet somewhere where he couldn’t possibly find it — and maybe she would forget about it as well. 

But then, just before she could mentally decide which closet in her little cottage Rhett was least likely to go snooping through, there was a knock at the front door. Most likely her mother coming over to check if she needed anything to tide her over for the weekend, snacks or drinks or, most likely, if she wanted to walk over to the main house to spend the day. 

Gift still in hand, Tessa pulled open the door with a greeting ready and waiting on her tongue. It died right there in her mouth however, when she saw who was really on the front porch. 

“Rhett,” she said, trying not to sound so shocked that he was there. “Wh-What are you doin’ here?”

Brows furrowed, he quickly looked down at his phone then back up at her. “Sorry, this a bad time? Y’said I could come over whenever, so…”

It was ten in the morning on a Saturday. And it warmed something in Tessa’s chest that he would want to come over this early and spend the whole day with her. That he would stand on her front porch ready to leave at her word but so eager to stay. Booted feet shuffling on the treated wood and blinking down at her rapidly from beneath the brim of his trucker hat. He wanted to be with her. Not even doing anything, they made no plans. Just hanging out together, maybe running some errands because she desperately needed to restock the snacks she kept hidden in her room at the Boy’s Home. Somehow domestic and somehow so natural and good that sometimes it scared her. How easily things came between her and Rhett.

She gripped the small gift still clutched in her hand tighter. Maybe that was why she was so nervous to give it to him. 

What if this was finally the thing that messed it all up?

“No, this — this isn’a bad time,” she finally answered, opening the door wider and moving out of the way for him to come inside. “Jus’caught me off guard, s’all.”

Rhett smiled sheepishly as he stepped through the doorway, plucking his hat from his head and hanging it on the hooks just inside. Running a hand through his hair, he nodded his head towards her hands with a grin. 

“Wha’s that?”

Tessa looked down at the little wrapped box as she clicked the door shut behind him. “Uh…It’s um…”

She looked back up into his expectant face, eyebrows raised in a nearly amused way while he toed off his boots, trying to think of some lie that would keep the gift from him for just a little bit longer. It’s for one of the boys? It’s for my dad? Her brain screamed at her to say something, anything, to get him off her back. But with his hands on his hips and slight narrowing of his eyes, she knew she was done for. They both knew she was shit liar anyway. He wouldn’t have believed her even if she had been able to come up with something and finally wrestled it past her lips. 

With a sigh, she held it out to him and muttered, “S’for you.”

“Me?” he questioned on a chuckle, pulling the gift from her fingers almost reluctantly. “Why?”

“No reason. Just…Got the idea n’couldn’t let it go ‘till I…Yeah…” she replied honestly. 

His smile was small and shy as he turned the present around and around in those big, calloused hands. Like he was looking for the timer to a bomb that would go off when he ripped the paper. He kept his eyes trained on it as he meandered over to the couch, shoulders hunched.

“Jus’cause?” he asked as he slowly lowered himself onto the cushions.

“Yeah. Jus’cause.” Tessa followed after him slowly, sitting down next to him on the couch and keeping a bit-lip silence until he started tearing the paper away from the box. “I hope y’like it. I-I know y’re supposed t’win’em, but I jus’thought…”

She knew if she kept talking it would turn into a ramble. A proverbial vomiting of words that would leave Rhett feeling overwhelmed and unsure how he felt. Saying whatever it took to get her to stop talking even if he didn’t really mean it. So instead, she watched anxiously with her arms wrapped tightly around her torso as he finished off tearing away the wrapping paper. As he lifted the lid from the box and took in what was carefully tucked inside the protective styrofoam casing.

“Oh,” he muttered quietly as his blue eyes like cloudy days scanned the gift.

It was a belt buckle. The silver plating shiny and new. Engraved into it was a stylized sun and a bull’s horn on either side. From all the imperfections and the attention to detail, it was clear that it was handcrafted. Rustic in its design, old school. Rhett traced his thumb over the line work but didn’t take it out of the box still sat lazily over his spread thighs. 

Tessa felt her expression drop, her heart sink into her gut. “You don’like it.” 

“No, no —” he immediately answered, glancing over at her quickly then back down to the buckle. “I jus’...How much’d you spend on this?”

And there it was. That sincere denial and assertion. With those blue eyes downcast and cheeks flushed and a slight shake of his head as he continued to look at the gift. She could practically see what he was thinking. How he didn’t deserve this. How she should have spent her money on something else. Anything else. How he hadn’t earned it. 

Where did he learn that love was something that had to be earned? Where did he get the idea that he didn’t deserve to be treated to nice things?

From her experience, she knew where he learned. And it twisted up something angry and sour in her gut that forced the corners of her mouth to turn down. Apples never fell far from trees in Wabang, and sometimes it was the trees that were doing the throwing. Because it was clear to her, as she watched him waiting for her answer on the price, that he did like the gift. Despite all his hesitations. He wouldn’t stop looking at it. Tracing his thumb over the rough edges of the etching.

He might not have earned it the way he had all those other buckles she saw lined up on his dresser, but he wanted this one.

And she wanted him to want it freely. 

“Doesn’matter how much I spent,” she finally said, tucking her legs up underneath herself as she scooted closer to him. “I jus’know…Y’always call me sunshine n’y’always say I’m y’r good luck charm before a ride so…Jus’a little bit’a good luck sunshine t’carry around with ya.”

Rhett finally turned his head to look over at her, a lock of dark hair curled at the end falling into his face. He chewed his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed as he studied her like she was about to change her mind at any second. But her mind was set, and so she smiled. Small and reassuring as she reached out and tucked that stray hair behind his ear like she knew he liked. 

“You sure?” he questioned quietly.

“Positive.” Then she quickly added on, “I mean, y’don’have t’wear it if ya don’like it, obviously, but I jus’thought —”

But Rhett was quick to cut her off as he pulled the buckle from the box. “No, I love it. It, uh — reminds me’a you.” 

Tessa felt her cheeks heat up as he turned the buckle over in his large palm, inspecting the blacksmith’s symbol on the back. That was what she was hoping for, even though the thought of it still sounded weirdly conceited to her. They didn’t get to spend much time together with her busy and consistently changing schedule with the Boy’s Home and him trying his hand at more out of state rodeos. But this way, he could carry around a piece of her always. Could bring him good luck even when she couldn’t be there. Could maybe keep those buckle bunnies from oogling what wasn’t theirs.

“Good, m’glad y’like it.”

Without another word or thought, Rhett got up from the couch. Tessa felt a heat pool in her belly, and in her cheeks, as she watched him. One handed, he undid his belt and slid the old buckle he was wearing off. She swallowed something thick as he put the new buckle on his belt and redid the clasp.

Like her own claim on him. Her own mark.

He turned to her once he felt it was centered, those slightly too tight jeans hugging his thighs and hips on full display with his fingers perched on the leather of his belt. Right in front of her face. She had to stop herself from rubbing her thighs together at the sight of her sunshine sitting pretty and shiny right above his zipper.

“Whaddaya think? Look good?” he asked, looking down at the buckle then up at her with the most sincere expression. 

Christ, he had no idea what he was doing to her.

“Mmmhmm,” she hummed with a nod.

“What?” he chuckled lowly. 

Her throat was suddenly too dry to really speak. Tongue too big to form the words as her eyes kept flicking back and forth between his expectant smiling face and the buckle he now wore. Tessa never thought she could be possessive until this moment. But there it was, rearing its ugly head as she thought about everyone seeing him wearing it and knowing what it meant.

That he was hers.

Rhett Abbott was hers. 

With his quiet way of speaking and passion and kindness and sincerity so loud she could nearly see it. With his big hand, rough and warm, cupping her cheek and gently forcing her to look up into his face. 

“Y’like it?” he asked again, softer and darker all at once, an understanding taking hold of his face. 

“Yes,” she squeaked breathlessly.

A small grin ticked up the corner of his mouth, and he nodded his head down at her as he said, “Show me, sunshine.”

i no longer have a taglist, please follow @anniesocsandlibrary and turn on notifications for updates

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

Can we please get a snippet from cabin

Sure! I’m still working on this part so it might change but this is what I have so far

**************************************************************************************

He woke the next day to find his Uncle Ja sitting on the couch, warming his gloved hands by the fire. Ja appeared to be one of, if not the youngest on his father’s squad. He must have enlisted right at eighteen and quickly rose up the ranks because he looked to be in his twenties and yet Miles logically knew that he was at least thirty five. He was still dressed in his heavy coat, perfectly suited for the biting winter cold and rapidly growing snow of the mountain, all except the beat up old camo trucker hat he wore instead of something warmer. Ja took notice of him, grinning. “God. It’s so good to finally see you.”

Miles smiled, “I hear that a lot.”

Ja chuckled, “I bet you do. We were all really heartbroken when you were taken away.”

Miles held his arms wide, displaying himself. “But I’m back now.”

Ja’s eyes were shining. “Yes you are.”

“That’s right. He’s exactly where he was always meant to be,” Pa called, peering in from the kitchen. “Ja, does Junior need to hold off on breakfast for a blood test or anythin’?”

Ja nodded, “that’s probably for the best.”

Miles sighed, his stomach growling in protest. “Can we just get it all over with then? I’m starving.”

Pa looked to Ja for an answer. “Sure,” he said as he moved to take supplies from his backpack. “Where are we doing this Cap?”

“Does my room work?”

“Yeah that’s fine.”

Miles turned back down the hall, into his father’s room, plopping down on the bed. He waited a few moments for Ja to enter, medical bag in hand, Pa following closely on his heels. Ja took out a sterile cloth from his bag and layed it across the nightstand, then started neatly arranging his instruments. Pa stood by Miles side, rubbing his back. “We’re doin’ a full physical right? And if you’re doin’ a blood panel do you want me to clear some space in the basement for y’a to look over everythin’?”

“Yes and yes,” Ja said, stethoscope and blood pressure cuff in hand. He slipped it on to Miles' arm, placing the head of the stethoscope just under it, then began to pump up the cuff. Father and son stayed quiet as he worked. Ja checked his vision, hearing, lymph nodes, reflexes, and finally listened to his heart and lungs. He took some notes then said, “everything looks and sounds good.” Pa grinned, happily patting Miles on the back, “in my opinion it was probably just the cold getting to him. Keep him inside this winter and bundle up when you do have to go out.”

“Will do. I’ll keep him in. Thank you Ja.”

Miles felt his stomach drop. Stay inside? All winter? “But we can go out sometimes? Right Pa?”

His father scratched his chin thoughtfully, “well I’ve got a few Christmas activities I want to do,” Miles brightened, “but probably after that we’ll stay in.”

Miles instantly dimmed, “but Pa! I’ll bundle up! I’ll wear four sweaters, and my hoodies and both my coats, and I’ll wear so many pairs of socks my feet will barely fit in my boots….”

“Miles, Miles, stop it! I know you love being outside. And we will try to find a compromise. But I will not put your health at risk and you will not be arguing with me about it. Y’a hear me.”

He slumped in his seat, “yes sir.”

[invisiblegarters]

The Heart Killers 10

Pfft Kant please be serious. These brothers are down bad no way they're going more than a week without cracking

Fadel has a succession of pretty pretty shirts that he looks amazing in this ep. Just want to point that out

Relatedly, it offends me that I only got to see Kant in his sexy grandma glasses once. Why does this show not cater to me specifically???

And in a completely unexpected twist that literally everyone saw coming, Lilly was the one who murderized everyone's parents (except Kant's). NO. Say it isn't true that the woman taking traumatized kiddos and teaching them to be assassins is way eviler than she seems, etc...except no, she always seemed pretty evil

My god Joong is so so good as Fadel. The way that you can feel the hurt and rage pouring off of him but can only see it in his eyes...aaaaaah I love him I love him he's so good

No for real he's SO GOOD. Can I please have a drama with him and First where they just emote at each other the whole time? I would watch the hell out of it

I'm sorry, all I can think of during this meal is the BTS where First is flirting looking up at Dunk with his head in his arms and I melted into a puddle. Dunk is a superior human being for withstanding that, I say

Ah so that was why the tattoo. Still wish it had something to do with Kant, but well. We all know why that is

I am cackling at Bison's "disguise" being a bucket hat and nothing else. Sure, hon. Then again this is the dude who was fooled by a pair of sunglasses and a trucker hat, so carry on

The fuck is that shirt. If you don't know what I mean I envy you

While I understand the reluctance to involve two "civilians" to help out with the stalking and info gathering missions, in this case I think putting all four of your heads together might result in a job actually getting done, so go team

Finally a show that doesn't pretend that First Kanaphan isn't ridiculously pretty. Love having Lilly lampshade it all like yes yes work that face use your assets. I can't wait to see that party I bet they're gonna be all over him haha

Titanic reference! You know I think I like that Bison is the one who went back for the necklace way way more than if Kant had been. And these two always excel at the chemistry - even my friend made a comment about it

LOL Fadel maybe Keen isn't fussed about killing you because you were never fussed about him existing at all. And yes I know Lilly fostered it but you don't seem to and these are dots you should be connecting my dude

Ah, spoke too soon. I'm glad that Fadel does recognize that Lilly is the problem, not Keen. But OOF, that reveal about what happened to his ex. My poor darling

Oh hey JJ gets a name (or he probably got one earlier but now I finally heard it, that's more likely). Nont. Poor Nont he's the most clueless in the room and now he's a whole hostage. Where are they gonna keep him though? A room in Fadel in Bison's house?

Oh, FADEL. He's so sad I can't. I say again this is why he needs someone like Style because that man will never give up. Everyone keeps saying it but it's true, when he's in he's all in and he doesn't waver for a second. He will repeat that Fadel deserves love as many times as it takes to get it through his skull, and if Fadel tries to leave for his own good he'll be the one handcuffing himself to things so he can't go. He's pretty much exactly what Fadel needs and I love that for them.

[queennicoleinboots]

Goats Gone Wild, Chickens Gone Drunk on a Pacific Island, part 1

King Simmons, Prince Oliver, Joseph, and I were walking back to the resort and feeling defeated. Turtle people and mushroom people were bitching about their social security offices closing down and about how medicare program on the island is run by the Joker himself. They also complained about the stock market crashing and about some stupid chicken drunk texting an Iranian goat World War III plans.

I chuckled. It was the only way to handle this island's and this world's stupid bullshit. Bullshit was here. Bullshit was there! BULLSHIT WAS EVERYWHERE!

"What are you doing?" Joseph asked.

"Some stupid bullshit. Does anyone have any good news?" I asked with exasperation.

"Um. At least I love you," Joseph said. "Other than that, I don't know."

"I love you, too, BaeWhuhh," I said. "King Simmons, what do you say?"

"I'm glad that Kyle the Chicken talked about politics truthfully. There is so much crazy shit to report on. There's always something to talk about. Jeremy the Chicken from the Quartering Act is clueless, though. He thinks Trump is a good guy," Joseph blabbed on.

I chuckled. King Simmons looked beyond pissed.

"Jeremy the Chicken wears the ugliest damn trucker hats. They make his head look like a fucking monument. His head is big enough as is. We don't need to add to it. My God!" Joseph said. He then imitated a rooster and clucked. "'I'm Jeremy the Chicken from the Quartering!'"

"I mean, he wants to depict himself as a rooster who rules the roost, but really it's just him and a few hens," I said.

"I mean, Come on. Those are some uglyass trucker hats. He doesn't even wear them right," Joseph said. "They're always on sideways, like he is drunk when he puts them on."

"Jeremy the Chicken’s hats look like rejected grain silos. You could house a whole damn Home Owner's Association in them!” the raven said with a squawk.

"That dude is a fucking asshole," King Simmons said.

"So, King Simmons, is there anything good going on in your life?" I asked. I was honestly sick of Jeremy the Chicken. He had a set of balls that were fit for being kicked as hard as possible. I would kick them to the moon if I could. A Cock-a-doodle cock kicking would do those balls justice.

A middle-aged turtle man started weeping, "I lost my Medicare Part B card privileges for no reason!"

"I have good news, you fucking bitch!" a disillusioned twenty-year-old turtle screamed as he stood in front of us. "I am setting up a fucking podcast right here on this God-forsaken beach!"

Obviously, this fucking turtle was high out of his mind. There was no electricity on the island yet.

"My podcast is called 'Shroom and Doom: The Collapse of Turtle Civilization,' bitches!" the disillusioned twenty-year-old turtle shouted. He was holding a cell phone that was from the 1980s. That damn thing was bigger than his head.

"What do you think of this podcast idea, King Simmons?" I asked.

"I'm sorry to say, but I think the start of every podcast should have the theme song of 'Run Over By A Truck' by Weezer to really drive the point home. The truck could be a tank designed to look like a turtle," King Simmons said as he stared ahead and nodded.

Joseph farted loudly twice to show approval. "OH MY GOD!!!"

"Prince Oliver? What do you think of the podcast idea?" I asked as I shook my head. I blinked in disbelief that all of this shit was happening.

A gas-powered truck flew by us loudly as Prince Oliver was trying to talk.

"Arrgggrrgggghhhhharrrgggg!!! I HATE OTHER TRUCK DRIVERS!!!" King Simmons shouted.

"Yes! They are some of the biggest assholes I have ever encountered!" Joseph shouted.

"I say we film the podcast near a river! There's too many bloody trucks coming through here. I'll have to get back to you about what content we should report on!" Prince Oliver shouted.

"A resounding EX NAY ON THE PODCAST," King Simmons interjected.

The trucks were finally gone, and then King Simmons lowered his voice.

"At least we get electricity back on the island and the trucks the fuck off our set," King Simmons said.

"What about you Raven?" I asked.

"I finally got included in the conversation. I squawk, and no one hears me. Geez. Usually, only crickets respond, and they tell me to shut the fuck up. Nobody fucking listens to me," the raven said.

"That's every social media experience at this point," a hen said as she shook her head.

Then, all of a sudden, electricity came back on the island in full power, and we heard "You Got the Power!" by SNAP being shouted from a speaker system.

Goats started running out of every pasture, bush, and forest. They bleated to the beat. A black wolf who wore a green hat and green and brown robe led them in the goat march.

"Baaaaaanhhhh Baahh Baaah!!!" a big black female goat shouted. "YOU GOT THE P-PPPPOWWWWENHHHH!!!"

The black wolf shouted,

"Like the cry of the wolf, I snap attack!

Front to back! In this hell called heck!

Claw it like a weasel! Rhyme devil on a heavenly level! Bang the bass!

Turn up the treble!

Lyrical mind, diurnal nocturnal! Eternal!

Eleven, Twelve, sun moon face!

Maniac, brainiac, winning the game

I'M THE LYRICAL JESSIE JAMES!!!"

Bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-BAAH

BAAAH-banh-banh-banh-banh-banh! Bahhh-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-baaah! Gettin' kinda hectic!!!!" the big black female goat sang.

"It's getting, it's getting, it's getting kinda hectic! It's getting, It's getting, it's getting kinda hectic!" the goats sang.

The black wolf howled.

"I'VE GOT THE POWER!" a black female goat shouted.

The goats then started singing, "He's gonna break my clock! He's gonna break my clock of clocks! He's gonna break my clock! He's gonna break my clock of clocks!"

The big black female goat joined them in singing, "We've got the power! Bah-bah-bah-bah-BANHHH!!!"

Then a big black goat then started rapping, "Time and money, I possess something! I'm dark! When my bleat goes through the rest of the microphone, that I am holding, giving me lyrics that can't be taken, but they all snap. No need to police to try to save them! Your bleat will whine! So, please, GET OFF MY TRACK! Or I will attack, and you don't want that!"

That big black goat looked familiar. If I remembered correctly, he was Baaaaaaahlah Barnes, an ex-member of this esteemed society before he went off and decided to create his own society of Musically-Inclined Multicolor Goats.

Then we saw a renewed, glowing Sir Paul the Goat with titanium legs starting to do a massive break dance. It included the moonwalk with four legs.

Goats bleated.

Then a female goat warrior bleated and started kicking testicles. "I GOT THE POWER!"

Hens and goats sang, "He's gonna break my clock! He's gonna break my clock of clocks! He's gonna break my clock! He's gonna break my clock of clocks!"

Then a female goat warrior bleated and started kicking testicles. "I GOT THE POWER!!" she shouted.

Female goats bleated, "Bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-BAAH. BAAAH-banh-banh-banh-banh-banh! Bahhh-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-baaah!"

Chickens clucked loudly before going to a rooster ball-busting ball. Ducks quacked like hell, and their webbed feet made impact with duck testicles. Lots of clucking and quacking ensued.

"WE'VE GOT THE POWER!" the female goats and chickens shouted on the island.

Sir Paul the Goat served wine to the yard birds and saw them lay eggs sideways while making small clucks.

"Thank you!" the hens shouted. The music stopped.

"Hand me that glass of wine!" Prince Oliver shouted.

Sir Paul the Goat handed Prince Oliver the whole bottle.

"You know, I could go for a burger. All of this madness has made me hungry!" Joseph said.

"Agreed. I'm famished. Let's eat and then finally get back to the resort, for the love of God!" King Simmons shouted.

"Agreed. There is so much shit going on!" I shouted.

A chimpanzee was sitting on a branch above us and shit.

Birds were flying in the air and shitting. We played "Dodge the Shit!" as we walked.

A duck was shitting as he walked with us.

We walked in silence as we continued our needlessly long walk back to the resort. I wasn't sure where this mysterious resort was. I assumed we had been on this island for two and a half weeks and not once I have seen this place. I was looking forward to it. I was tired, hungry, and in desperate need of a real shower.

In what seemed to be 30 minutes later, the former skishkabob vendor was now selling burgers. I assumed it was tourist season. Joseph was excited and ran to see the large menu he had on his stand. King Simmons and Prince Oliver walked quickly over to read it. The raven was flying and reading the menu.

The black wolf was standing in front of us and ordering. He bought a Roast Wolf Burger (the number 1.75 item on the menu), a sack of fries, and a Goat Milk Vanilla Smoothie.

Roast Wolf Burger consisted of 💯 beef patty, 90/10 ground beef, roast beef, lettuce, tomato, onion, garlic powder, black olive, mayo, slight mustard, green olive, and black pepper.

Wolves hated cheese, apparently.

The black wolf howled a 'thank you' to the vendor after he paid.

Crazy bitch hens were in line behind the black wolf. They squawked at him to order them burgers.

He sighed and said, "If you don't shut the fuck up, I am going to eat you. It is as simple as that."

Jaybird was coming toward us from the direction of the resort. When he saw me, his face lit up. "Nicole?" he asked as he quickened his pace.

"Jaybird! How are you?! You look more muscular since I saw you two weeks ago!" I said with excitement.

"Three weeks ago, actually. We have been on this specific island for three weeks. I was worried they wouldn't find you!" Jaybird spoke with this typical enthusiasm.

"Well, against all odds, we found her," King Simmons said with a smile.

"Well THANK GOODNESS for that!" Jaybird shouted.

The other people in line turned toward us and started chuckling. I was grinning slightly uncomfortably. I didn't like to draw too much attention to myself, especially since I really needed to take a bath and felt gross.

When it was our turn to order, Jaybird noted that the vendor was the same guy who sold kabobs two days ago, or at least I think it was two days ago.

"Excuse me, weren't you selling shishkabobs two days ago?" Jaybird asked.

"Yes. But there has been a huge demand for burgers, and unfortunately the guy who was running the burger stand got impaled yesterday during the blackout," the vendor/cook said.

The raven flew on his shoulder.

"It's you again. I see you're still alive after yesterday's bullshit," the vendor/cook said.

The raven chirped an affirmative.

"Well, We are very sorry to hear he got impaled," Jaybird said seriously.

"I'm sure the poor bastard got some joy out of it," the vendor/cook said.

Prince Oliver and King Simmons chuckled and tried to stifle their laughter.

"What can I get you for you?" the vendor/cook asked.

"I will take the Animatronic Chicken with Peruvian goat cheese in cassava wrap, please," Jaybird said. "I'm highly allergic to gluten, so please wash your hands before preparing my particular burger. Thank you."

Animatronic Chicken Burger consisted of ground organic free range chicken, lettuce, tomato, cheeses of your choice, meatmayo (chicken and tuna bits mixed with mayo), salt, pepper, bean sprouts, lima beans, green beans, a dash of cranberry sauce, a dash of yellow curry powder, Parmesan cheese, fried eggs, scrambled eggs, pico de Gallo, and four pieces of gluten-free bread of your choice.

"Are you guys ordering together or separately?" the vendor/cook asked.

"Separately!" Jaybird shouted.

"Agreed," King Simmons said.

"What would you like, Your Grace?" the vendor/cook asked.

The jeopardy theme song played as we waited for King Simmons to decide what he wanted to eat.

[automicbaseball]

June 1st we went to see the Mariners vs Angels at T-Mobile for their first pride themed game! Here I'm going to share a few insights and happiness as I usually do. All this I was lucky to share with my partner and wife, @warriorbeeofthesea

Before I get to that, I was very pleased to help raise the pride flag over city hall today! The city has declared that it's officially pride month aka they recognize and make it certain, as far as the city is concerned.

They invited people to come out and help observe and raise the flag, and boy howdy did we queers represent! Lots of cool folks, parents, children, all types attended and it was wonderful to see and be a part of. I only got a screenshot, but here ya go;

Back at the ballpark, the Mariners were giving away cute trucker hats and if you purchased the event tickets, pride jerseys! These aren't like the highest quality, but weirdly, compared to my Mariners City Connect, these have actual emblems sewn on (same with the Hello Kitty ones). In any case, the tickets weren't much more than any other regular seats.

The lines were long as shit, but with friends and certainty, I didn't mind. Being neurospicy means I have to plan for high energy interactions, and in my case specifically, for inefficiency.

It was a well attended game, and I felt really happy and safe to so many folks excited to be themselves! As usual, I dressed in my Pronouns jersey, but today I went with nice big jeans shorts and tights (vs my usual of a kilt or skirt).

We actually have three jerseys, the striped one you see below, the button up that has a primary of red, and the sunset sleeveless jersey, which incidentally looks like a bisexual theme.

Initially we sat in the pride section (the aforementioned tickets usually group affiliate groups in a section or three, they even had a banner!), but since my partners and friends are rather neurospicy, we wanted to sit together with some room to spare.

Starting at sections 317-319 or so, and then to 309;

I don't have as many pics as I usually might, but I may have found a margarita vendor somewhat early who ran out of mix, and filled my cup with what I believe was entirely tequila, putting me on the dehydrated track.

I was so full of cheer that I definitely just floated happily through the game with wonderful chats and seeing cool people.

I did indeed get a hat, however, I had a fun interaction in the line for beer somewhere in the 4th inning or so. A gay couple and I chatted (they found my jersey cute), and I had the idea to just give them my hat, as they hadn't made it in time to get theirs. I know my wife has theirs and we're going to another game that's giving these out later. The fellows were kind enough to put my brews on their rab, and one exclaimed their happiness at random acts of joy.

In the end, the Ms won 9-0. Here are a few highlights;

* Ryan Bliss with his first stolen base and his first MLB hit! A solid bloop to the center field gap for a single. The kid was called up recently and this was his 4th game. I love seeing people get called to the show, and in his case, he dreamed of playing for the Mariners. I love his energy and ability and look forward to seeing him play more!

* JP Crawford crushes a grand slam in the bottom of the 4th to get us up 5-0.

* Bryce Miller with 9 Ks!

* Luke "Nukem" Raley with a solo home run.

* Julio Rodriguez goes 3 for 4 with 2 RBIs.

* Kirby Snead induces a weak bouncing grounder to Ty France for an unassisted 3 for the final out, giving Miller and the Mariners the win!

What a wonderful day for ball.

[taiblogcomics]

Everyone Deals With Jerks

Hey there, disquieting wetness. Welp, we got more Countdown today. That should be obvious! We're not even far enough in to be quippy in the preamble! Let's just get this over with~

Here's the cover:

You know, at least this cover is pretty cool. I'll certainly give it that. Very symbolic! A giant hand (that of the Monitor) clutching the Earth in its grasp, symbolising the power he holds over it. Already a cool-ass image! And then you've got the heroes painfully chained to it, just as they are to their duty. And that we'll be introduced to Donna Troy and Kyle Rayner this issue! My one question, though: where did the chains come from? Like, they're tiny compared to the Monitor's hand. Is making very tiny glowing chains part of his powerset? What is his powerset, while we're at it~?

So this weekly multiverse-spanning maxi-series event starts with the murder of Duela Dent, AKA Joker's Daughter. Jason Todd was witness to the Monitor committing the deed, but he doesn't know the significance of that. Mary Marvel is friendless and powerless, and looking to cure both. The Rogues are planning a big crime and doing drugs, which is probably already a crime. Karate Kid has amnesia. And Jimmy Olsen goes to Arkham to interview the Joker, who has no real connection to Duela. Finding out it was a waste of time, Jimmy goes to leave, failing his perception check for Killer Croc getting loose just behind him.

Thankfully we open immediately to Arkham Asylum. If you're going to end the last issue on a cliffhanger, you better have the courtesy to immediately pick up that cliffhanger next time. But yeah, even though last issue ended with Croc right behind Jimmy, this one spends a whole page of Jimmy walking away, holding a phone conversation with Lois, putting up some dramatic irony about how of course he's safe, do you know whose Pal he is? All while Croc rushes up behind him and attacks. But Jimmy somehow isn't murdered. Instead, he takes a two-page spread to stretch out of the way like rubber!

Jimmy elasti-kicks Croc away, then shrinks back to human proportions. Croc has no idea how Jimmy did that, but before he can attack again, the Arkham guards finally catch up and shock Croc full of 1.21 gigawatts to knock him out. They somehow didn't see Jimmy do the stretchy thing, so they're like "Wow, super cool how you stood your ground against Croc, how did you know he wouldn't gut you?" And Jimmy can only muse that he thought Croc had. Well, Jimmy, I'm sure that's nothing to worry about and will make complete sense in the long run.

Now we cut over to the Monitors, who are busy doing the thing they're most famous for in this series. Yes, surprisingly murdering Duela Dent is somehow not the most famous idiotic action these celestial crum-bums are responsible for (though she is the topic of the current meeting). No, what they're most famous for in this series is sitting on their asses and arguing with each other. If you've seen Linkara's reviews, you already know the words. Everyone say it with me: "We should do something!" "Should we do something?"

Let's put that aside. Instead, we go back up to the JLA satellite HQ, where Karate Kid is being held. He seems to have come to his senses. Our old friend Roy Harper is standing guard, and this is when Roy was still Red Arrow. Neither Cry for Justice nor his stupid trucker hat have happened yet, and I miss this Roy. Roy's like "What sucks so much in the future that you're back here", and ha ha, just you wait, Roy. Here in 2024, loads of us would love to go back to 2007, so imagine how bad it is in a thousand years. Heck, Roy, you were dead after Heroes in Crisis, you didn't even live to see the pandemic!

Over on the very specific location of "the eastern seaboard", there's a fat guy in a silk robe wiring some funds by phone on his private yacht. As soon as he's done transferring the cash, he tosses his phone aside and then tosses himself overboard. That's when you get the reveal of the Rogues, Pied Piper having used his hypnotic music to manipulate the guy into doing that. Well, no complaints, I guess. They are villains, and that guy was a rich CEO. Hell, frankly I'd side with the supervillains before I'd side with a billionaire~

So this little stunt was essentially an initiation test for Trickster and Piper to get them into the upcoming scheme. Piper transfers the money to Mirror Master's account and he confirms it. Piper then leans over, presses one button on the laptop and it sends the money out of his account. Mirror Master's furious, but Piper says "Now we're even for killing my parents", and Mirrors goes with it. Wow, held the conflict for almost four panels. He then walks off to confirm their position in the upcoming heist with Captain Cold.

Piper then secretly reveals he hypnotised the CEO guy to be immune to getting tired swimming to shore. So he's probably going to die of exhaustion either way. Trickster (who contributed nothing) then bullies Piper into giving him the money to keep it quiet that he spared the CEO. Piper agrees, and we see a Homeless Children charity suddenly realise they gained then lost a $100,000,000 donation in the span of a few seconds. Maybe it was a glitch? So we've established that Piper is a secret good person working with assholes, and Trickster is an asshole leeching off other assholes. Great!

So do you remember last issue how Madame Xanadu told Mary Marvel to stay away from Gotham City for her own good? Well, Mary Marvel is in Gotham, and she's running from some thugs. Who could have predicted this outcome~? A literal psychic~? She ducks into a mosque to evade them, and is briefly startled by its familiar-looking architecture. As she's trying to escape the asshats, who drop a racist term just so you know they suck, they suddenly get picked off violently by someone else in the building. Someone who doesn't like either intruders or racists. The comic ends with the reveal that it's Black Adam, who may hate being disturbed, but is intrigued to run into Mary Marvel…

Well, I guess first thing, I want to retract my kudos to the cover for being good, because not only did it feature characters who aren't in the comic, it still hasn't introduced Donna or Kyle to the cast. Some folks complain when the cover has spoilers on it for things that happen in that particular issue. This one has spoilers on the cover for things that haven't even happened yet! Truly well done. Other than that, yeah. The running theme of this issue is that everyone is an asshole. Except Jimmy, Piper, and Mary Marvel (and her day will come, trust me). Like, this issue isn't infuriating or anything. But we're three issues in and there's nobody to root for. A recurring theme for the rest of the series, as you'll see!