#good god you never realize how many names they have until you gotta tag them all

[dukecarrion]

wildcards dump (mostly the p3s.... beloveds,.....)

[nathandrakeisabottom]

Headcannons about them with an anxious SO? Love your stuff x

Thank you, friend! Now, in full canonical honesty, I don’t believe that either Nathan or Sam would be particularly good at dealing with their deeper anxiety, let alone someone else’s, let alone someone else’s who they loved dearly and would only be afraid to make it worse (that many crumbling bridges and a guy’s gotta if consider his only superpower is the ability to destroy everything he touches) for most of their young lives. 

However, I do believe that post-UC4 (perhaps a little earlier for Nathan), and a good dose of necessary therapy (paid for in pirate coins, of course)--- they’d be more than willing to finally take on the challenge. 

For themselves, and for the person they love more than anything.

Drakes with an Anxious S/O Headcanons

Nathan:

In his younger days, the prince of the awkward smile and half-hearted clap on the back. A pulley doll whose only catchphrases were “Man, that’s hard”, “Yeah. Yeesh.”, and “Soooo, I guess this would be a bad time for a joke, huh?”. Scurries to the bathroom as soon as they’re not in tears anymore, and stays there for as long as it takes to stop hearing the residual sobs.

However, his late 30s and 40s bring him a much healthier perspective (and therapy— Jesus, finally) and being the smarty pants he is, he passes on no opportunity to put his new skills and knowledge to use.

That playfulness and desire to find the lightness in even the hardest situations never leaves him at any age, though.

A panic attack? “‘Is something… wrong with you’? You realize you’re talking to the guy who accidentally destroys ancient temples for a living, as an archaeologist? And I still consider myself a not so bad guy. So in my eyes, you’re basically a lesser known Mesopotamian god.”

Got a bad grade? “A D in Psychometrics? I don’t know, sounds like they don’t know anything about math if they’re using a letter to grade you. Maybe they should go get their teaching certificates checked. Hey, how ‘bout I just draw you a PhD myself? You know I have an eye for art.” 

Dealing with shitty parents? Landlord? Roommates? Exes who won’t leave you the fuck alone? “What? That buffoon? Guy who can’t even spell their own name right? That asshole isn’t worth a thought of a thought of a thought in your head. Pretty sure they haven’t had a thought in their own head since 1996.”

As soon as the first wide-toothed smile is won, he’s leaning into his partner with a secretive smirk: “Ya wanna get the hell out of here?” 

Because distractions always helped him before. 

Will act especially gentlemanly, and theatrically play it up, while taking their partner for a frozen yogurt, antique shop, Target trip, public park, laser tag (yes, really) decompress. Bows when he opens the car door for them. Pays for everything. Calls them ‘your majesty’ for the entirety of the excursion.

All he wants is to get them to smile. And he’s not stopping until he sees it. 

When the night creeps in and his S/O starts to lose steam, Nathan’s own worry grows more obvious, though he tries his best to keep it to himself. 

Watches them with wide eyes. Gives them space, but still asks every few minutes if they need a cup of water. No? Tea? Arnold Palmer? Popsicle? Massage? Hot Pocket? Sexy pillow fight? However many it takes to make his partner laugh again. But he fully means every offer he gives.

Says nothing as he helps them undress and into their PJs. Touches are tender and intimate, gently rubs their shoulders and neck. Never too hard, never too direct. Plays the friendly ghost and lets their partner take the lead, but never, ever just sits around to watch.

Makes them a beverage of some sort, even if they say no. Hot lemonade with honey is his personal homecure. Says yellow is a happy color, so it must be good for you.

And right before they turn the lights out, Nate timidly offers— with a shy, trying chuckle— if they want him to read them a bedtime story. 

Somehow shocked every time they say yes. Mumbles something self-derogatory about himself (“Ya know, not the best actor, but—” “Personally I think I have the voice of a dying goose, but—”) before sitting on the nearest surface and cracking open a book.

If he’s still feeling a little awkward, will uneasily ask if they wanna hear what he’s been reading lately, and will do so if asked— but really wants to read the pirate storybooks his mother read to him and Sam when they were kids.

It always made him feel better when the world felt too big, too scary, too cruel. 

So he wants to share it with the person he loves. 

He wants to share everything with the person he loves.

And without even asking, goes to the medicine cabinet and brings them a tablet of whatever they need when the anxiety gets especially bad, and says “I know, it’s scary. But we’ve been through scary before, right?” with a kiss on the cheek as they swallow it down with a sip of lemonade.

Lingers, eyes down, and vaguely nods to nobody as he stands and walks to the door.

“Want me… uh, want me to keep reading to you?” But he offers before he can even get past the door frame. 

“Do you want me to want you to keep reading to me?” 

And the last thing he wants to see is his love, alone. The idea of them crying beneath the covers because they were too afraid to burden him with it, too afraid to be seen. Everything he felt he had to do when he was 6 and his mother “passed”, age 9, 10, 11, 12 after a black eye, the words that his brain told him wrong: spoken aloud by the playground bullies he feared he’d never be stronger than. 

But he knew they were wrong. The bullies were wrong. The ones in his brain. The ones in theirs.

“Yes.” He replies without missing a beat. 

And he makes sure to hold their hand in his free one until the second they fall asleep… and a few hours after, just to be safe.

The next morning they fucking better expect breakfast in bed— and he maybe, just maybe, might even be willing to spring for McDonald’s, if that’s what they want. As long as they promise to eat actual fruit after. And hell, maybe even a vegetable or two when he makes dinner that night. Did you know that eating right and exercise are actually primary solutions to poor mental health—? That’s what Dr. Dorian said— No, potatoes don’t count as a vegetable— no, especially not if it’s fried— NO, FRENCH FRIES DON’T COUNT, BABY—

Sam:

Sam takes a bit longer to warm up to discussing anxiety than Nathan does, mostly due to struggling so deeply with it on his own. It’s not like prisoners (or Shoreline guards) made the most comforting companions. 

The better he could keep secrets, the less he could reveal, the safer he’d be.

So it makes sense that it’s both his greatest strength and weakness when it comes to emotionally turbulent times. 

In his younger, more avoidant years, he’d be the first to leave the room, leave the building, hell, sometimes even leave the city after a particularly heavy cry or confrontation with his then-partner. Only to come back the next morning and act like nothing ever happened. 

But now, he doesn’t run. After prison, after Rafe, after Madagascar, all he wants is to be allowed to stay. To be wanted to stay by someone who loves him. 

Is happiest to just sit with you in the silence. His biggest skill is his ability to weather the storm. And whether you need to scream bloody murder, or need to sit and decompress and just fucking feel, but can’t do it alone, Sam’s there. Listening. 

Once you’re done talking, he takes one last, long drag of his cigarette, stubs it out onto the pavement, and asks simply: “So do you want solutions… or something else, sweet’art?” 

You can see in his eyes— darting less than solid, certain against your own— that he really means it, in every way that he was too afraid to when he was younger.

The wonderful and terrifying thing about having anxiety while Sam is there is that it’s a vulnerable experience for the both of you. He’s learning, discovering, trying right along with you. And he may not be able to lift you up so easily, but he’ll be able to sink into the dark places with you, and not be afraid to see what’s down there. 

And maybe seeing someone he loves so deeply, sees as so beautiful, so smart, so kind, so wonderful, so absolutely perfect to him feel the same ways he does about himself… maybe it makes him think that he’s not as terrible as his brain tells him, either. 

Helps you take action by letting himself (finally) not be the smart one: “When ya… get like this, what do you usually do first, sweet’art? Paint me a pit’chure.” Gives you complete control, and smiles softly when you wipe your tears and the logical, the archaeological mind awakens. Mimics unraveling an ancient map when you begin to explain, and you inadvertently hiccup out a laugh. 

At times, it’ll feel like he’s trying to run again, but when he stands up and walks across the room— he always returns. This time with your favorite of his jackets, the denim one that smells like him even though he just cleaned it, and drapes it protectively over your shoulders. Clasps his palm at the back of your neck and rubs out the knot he always finds there. Smiles toothy and wide when your words are broken up by sighs of relief. Only to be filled once again with silence, gazes meeting sweet and safe. 

“Remember Indonesia?” He offers with a smirk, despite your furrowed brow.

“I guess? What about—?” 

“I read the runes’ instructions and ran us in circles all around Bali, only to reread the transcript and realized I got three letters completely wrong. J—V—A. Java. It was goddamn Java the entire time.” 

“Your point being?” 

He smiles and shrugs. Trying. Maybe he’s wrong, a foreigner in some ancient, uncertain land, but he tries.

“Sometimes our brains are just wrong.” He tries for you. “That’s all.”

You sniffle, and he leans in to press a prickly kiss to your cheek. His jacket is still warm from the dryer, wafting with the residual sting of cigarette, Old Spice Captain, cheap mouthwash, even cheaper aftershave, and something else completely unnameable. 

And maybe some others would think the scent appalling, but it’s the strangeness, the specificity, and yes, the stank— everything that makes Sam him— that makes you love it. Love him. The depth. The difference. 

The pain, and what he chose to do with it. 

Another kiss, this time down your neck. This time, the sigh of relief is his own.

What he chose to change it into. 

“So… any chance sex therapy might be a thing?” He asks grinningly.

“Why don’t we find out, ‘sweet’art’?”

[doshiart]

Gallavich Intro

uh huh, thank you @callivich for these encouragement reblogs post, so here we are!

(nick)Name: Doshi

Age: 22

What made you fall in love with Gallavich? I mean… gallavich, they're they. Okay, if serious, I just knew about them but never interested in it and don't remember whether I watched this show before or not. But I seen all of seasons attentively only in November 2023. Then I fell into it entirely and completely.

How long have you been a fan? 3.5 months / since November 2023

Favourite Gallavich moment/scene? oh god, it's hard.. so many really awesome scenes. I want to highlight a few and maybe make a top.

Mickey Watching Over Ian [S04E07] — my s-tier, i love re-watch this scene, i love this song (and i'm so sad that it's been removed from spotify but ok whatever). It's incredibly emotional, that's all. Mickey is so protective, there are so many thoughts on his face. And this silent talk with Svetlana screams very loudly for me. I just like to think that in that moment Mickey is thinking about how much he loves Ian and how glad he is that he's finally here.

"First Time I Felt Anything Since…" [S05E10] — just one more emotional scene before disaster. Really like it and the song is good too.

The Club Kiss [S04E08] — they are so touch starved for each other's. yummy.

"I Gotta Worry. You're My Husband." [S11E04] — it's really sad that this scene was deleted :\

"Rain On Me." [S11E07] — PLEASE they're so domestic and comfort, singing together, what could be better??

idk i just can't stop?? ok i'm quickly pick these important ones for me: "Don't." [S03E12] "Ian. Look At Me." [S04E10] "Sorry I'm Late." [S05E08] The Dock Scene [S07E10] "A lot." [S07E11]

Favourite Shameless character apart from Ian and Mickey? Carl! I actually really love a lot of the characters, but Carl the most. Love his character development, love his sibling bonding with Debbie and how they grew together, as well as his brotherly relationship with his elders. Love his interactions with Mickey and wish there was more. He's so sweet and silly kitty. I also had a crush on Sandy and would have liked to see more of a storyline with Debbie, but eh.

Do you write or draw or make edits? I draw! tag in tumblr / commissions open + other social

Favourite type of Gallavich fics? I'm absolutely in love for AUs! Before gallavich I didn't realize how much I loved the AUs. It's just amazing and this fandom is amazing because there are so many things I want to read, but there are sooooo many. I love multi-chaps and slowburn! Any universe, the main thing is our boys and tension between them!

Most of all I want to mention my love for texting/social media or something like that. I like it when text messages are inserted into the writing.

I prefer fluff, but I have nothing against angst, only if it is hurt/comfort. I love getting different emotions and I love crying too, but I don't like bad endings.

Favourite Gallavich quote? "You're Under My Skin, Man." "What You And I Have Makes Me Free." "Hit My Husband Again, I'll Fucking Kill You." "Don't fucking tell me what's impossible! We're taking care of him here. You, me, us. His fucking family. "Fuck You, Fuck You, And Especially Fuck You!"

Anything else you’d like to share about yourself? I'm a bit of a shy introverted lurker and didn't understand at all how tumblr blogging system worked until that moment, usually I just threw my art and ran away. But now I'm watching how people do their posts (use a queue?? what). And I wasn't completely sure how to blog with drawings without turning it into something personal, but it seems that's the point of blog?

So I'm just getting used to everything and want to stay in the shameless fandom, because it's very nice to be here. You are all very nice people and I have already become attached to y'all.

Apart from anything else, I have a huge obsession. I constantly read something new that comes into my hands, and I have a lot of ideas for new arts. (I might even want to do an edit, but shhh, I'm not sure I'm really mentally ready yet haha).

So yeah, you are truly amazing and I hope to be more active in the fandom! <3

[theunquenchablethirst]

Hooked (Jerome X Reader)

Ok, so this is a thing. I was kinda surprised nobody had used this scene yet, because the Gotham fandom seem to collectively agree that Jerome is BIG KINKY and yet the one scene where he canonically has people cuffed up and hung from the ceiling... nobody has touched??? Y'all have been sleeping on that scene! It's fanfic gold! Anyway, enjoy the hedonism. Much love xxx

Warning: SMUT, 18+, GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, BDSM, bondage, cuffs, dom/sub, vaginal fingering, oral sex, biting, spanking, slapping, pussy slapping, light choking, spitting, belt whipping, praise/degradation, marking, mention of scratching, Jerome is big meanie pants mean man

The new mayor of Gotham is having a meeting with his council members, but things take a turn when the Legion of Horribles show up to kidnap them and reader. When the victims are being unloaded from the truck, Jerome Valeska notices reader, because she isn't exactly on the guest list.

Tag list of lovelies: @gabile18 @valeskaduh @fangirl--writes @persephoneblck

Masterlist

I had been working as a housekeeper for the new mayor. It was a good job, but I wasn't appreciated. I was just there to clean and serve when needed. I don't think he even knew my name. I was just hired help to him. To all of them.

He was hosting a dinner for his council that day. I had been placed in the corner of the room with a bottle of expensive wine where I was to wait until wanted. He gestured for me to come forwards and fill their glasses while they started talking about their displeasure with the rising foul play in the city, like it was anything new for Gotham. The chairwoman wanted to know what he was going to do about it. Very little in my opinion. He was just coasting. In too deep over his head. He had been appointed far too fast and everyone knew it. He wasn't going to last.

He made an attempt to save face and talk about how he too was disturbed by the recent goings on and was doing everything he could. Trash, utter trash. As he rose from his seat, the lights fizzled out. I stopped pouring. Had this been any other city I would have assumed it was a simple power outage, but nothing was that simple in Gotham. The security guard closed us in and went to see what was happening. The air turned icy. No, this was not good. Gunshots and screams came from the hallway and everyone rose from the table terrified. We quickly started walking towards a door hoping to make an escape, but there was something about the windows. They were freezing over.

The doors burst open and I dropped the wine. It smashed into pieces as a blueish man in some kind of robotic suit and a weird looking, but huge gun stepped into the room. Was that Victor Fries? Then through the second set of doors another man in a top hat who I recognised as Jervis Tetch burst in with some other strange looking friends.

Before I could comprehend the situation, we were all being cuffed and taken outside. Our kidnappers pushed and pulled us towards a huge truck, all the while the mayor tried to buy his way free. He was showing just how little he really knew about the underbelly of Gotham. I knew just by looking at them that they were probably Arkham escapees and couldn't be bought like a sane man could. They had their own plans and you can't bargain with crazies.

We got to the truck and they opened the back door. My blood ran cold when I saw that standing there waiting for us was Jerome Valeska. Of all the criminals Gotham had seen he had been the only one that had scared me, truly and thoroughly. He didn't have any kind of reason for what he did. He just enjoyed death and chaos. And after his last escapade he looked like madness personified, his scars circling his face and eyes and giving him a permanent evil smile. Dread consumed me as I realized that he was no doubt the leader of this operation and if that was true, we were already dead.

I felt myself jolted forwards. The mayor had pushed me in front of the rest of the council to get whatever was coming first. If I wasn't cuffed, I would have turned around and broke his nose. I was lifted into the truck, my hands were pulled above my head and fixed to two hooks. I had to stand on my toes to keep standing which made it awkward and difficult as they pushed me to the back of the truck.

Was that Penguin? What was he doing here? He didn't belong here. I had gone to Penguin looking for a job in his club when I was 16. He was impressed with my audition, but when he asked my age, he rejected me.

"This establishment is not a playground for children. It's a nightclub." He had told me. At the time I had been steaming mad, but in hindsight he was probably right. Even if he was rude. So, after that, I found it hard to understand why he was here and working with Valeska. Maybe he had been kidnapped too?

The rest of the council were loaded on and hooked. The mayor was still trying to offer them money and pardons. When he saw it wasn't working, he resorted to empty, unintimidating threats. Jerome was completely unfazed and even a little disappointed in the lack of smiles.

"Nobody knows how to have fun anymore, right?" He said putting his arm around Penguin. So, he was a part of this.

Jerome pointed to a scary looking figure dressed like a scarecrow. Johnathan Crane? Crane released some kind of purple gas in the face of a member of a council. She started laughing and convulsing violently.

"What have you got to lose? Except your sanity?" Jerome joined in the crazy laughter. So, this was his plan. He'd figured out a way to forcefully drive everyone insane. With a gas.

I silently prayed to God in my mind for any kind of help.

After sufficiently terrifying us half to death, they left us in the back of truck. None of us could say anything and after a few minutes the truck started moving.

"Is she ok?" I asked looking towards the victim of the insanity gas.

"Who cares?! We have to figure out what they want and get out of here." Replied the mayor.

"Maybe they want publicity for whatever that gas is. Offer them some TV time." Guessed the chairwoman.

"Don't you get it?! This isn't a situation you can buy your way out of!" I snapped, frustrated with their idiocy.

"These aren't normal criminals. They don't want your money. They want chaos and madness." They stood there silently stunned. They had never heard me speak with such confidence, but in that moment, they knew I was right.

After what felt like hours the truck finally stopped.

"What's going on?" The mayor whispered.

Everything was quiet. We listened for any noise or sign of life. All we could hear was our own breath.

Then suddenly the doors flung open once again and in hopped Valeska, Tetch and Crane.

"We're here!" Jerome grinned.

The other two started to pull the council one by one off the hooks and walk them out of the truck, closely watched by Jerome. Until they got to me.

"Wait..." He stuck an arm out to stop Tetch from unhooking me.

"Who's she? She wasn't on the party list." He took a few steps closer to me.

"This poor young girl is an unlucky maid. Wrong place, wrong time. Very bad day." Jervis explained looking at me.

"Would you like me to... dispose of her?" Asked Crane, stalking close to me and lifting needle covered fingers to my throat.

"Not so fast, Mr Potato Head." Jerome said pulling him away from me.

He came so close that we were only inches apart. He looked down at me as if he was thinking for a few seconds then smirked and turned around to the others.

"Guys, go and see that our guests are comfortable, will ya? Get everything ready." He ushered them out of the truck. Fear travelled up and down my body. This had all been a bad situation, but being alone with Valeska scared the hell out of me.

"You're lucky I have a soft spot for pretty little girls." He closed the truck doors and turned to look at me.

"Freddy Krueger there... not so much." He relaxed, leaning back against the doors with his hands in his pockets. "You got a name?"

I stayed silent, more out of fear than defiance. He sucked his teeth and stood up straight.

"I get it. You're scared. Who wouldn't be, right?" He started slowly walking closer. "But things will go a lot smoother if you just play nice."

I still couldn't find any words.

"Aw, come on, doll! I'm getting awful lonely over here." He brought his hands up out of his pockets and leaned against a wall of the truck.

He was quiet for a few seconds and I noticed that his eyes were making their way up my legs. Being held up by my wrists on my tip toes had pulled my uniform skirt up and almost all of my thighs were exposed. I blurted out my name in an attempt to distract him from my bare legs. He smiled.

"What a pretty name. Now, was that so hard?" He pushed himself off the wall and came a little closer.

"So, you're the mayor's dust bunny, huh? I gotta say, doll, I can see why he keeps you around." He chuckled, eyeing me.

My whole body flushed and my face turned hot and red.

“But, uh, the thing about mayors in this town, they don’t last very long.”

"Please let me go." I whimpered.

"Oh, but we're having such a good time! Plus, if I did that, you'd scamper off to the GCPD and I can't have good ol' Gordon crashing the party early."

I scoffed at his suggestion. Not likely. I had a distinct distaste for the GCPD. They hadn't helped me when I needed them. I would never need them again.

"What's the matter? He book ya before or something?" Jerome smiled with intrigue.

"My parents... they... did things to us. When I ended up in the hospital one too many times..." Tears stung my eyes as I remembered. "They left me there and disappeared with my little brother. No one ever managed to track them down."

I didn’t fully understand why I was opening up to Jerome, but for a second, I saw a spark of humanity in his eyes. Like he understood my pain. I'd heard his first kill had been his mother, so maybe he did?

"I'd give anything to see him again." I sniffed and a tear rolled down my cheek.

"Yeah, I had shitty parents too." He sighed. "I killed them both."

I had thought about what I would do if I ever saw my parents again. What I would say, what I would ask. I could never think of the right words. But the thought of killing them, well that made me smile.

"What was it like?" I asked.

Jerome grinned from ear to ear and stepped closer so that we were toe to toe.

“Have you ever stood at the edge of a really tall building? You know that little voice in the back of your head that says ‘Jump! You can fly!’ even though every other part of you is screaming ‘No you can’t! You’re gonna kill us!’”

I nodded shakily.

“It’s like finally giving in to that voice. Like jumping off Gotham Bridge and finding out you can fly. And realising you never have to walk again.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and my heart felt like it was going a million beats per minute. His eyes were locked on mine and it felt like he was looking straight into my soul.

“You wanna fly, doll?” He brought his hand up to cup my jaw and ran his thumb along my bottom lip.

It wasn’t humanity I saw in Jerome Valeskas eyes. It was freedom. A freedom that I had wanted for as long as I could remember. And I could have it right now. He was offering it to me. The only thing standing in my way was myself.

“Yes.” I breathed. “Yes, I do.”

The next thing I knew, his lips were crashing into mine and he had hooked his hands under my thighs and was holding them around his waist. His kiss was desperate and hungry, like he had been starved for days and his grip on the bare flesh of my thighs was rough enough to leave bruises. I locked my ankles together behind him to steady myself from swaying underneath the cuffs. When I did, he drove his crotch forwards, grinding into my centre, a quiet moan escaping me as I felt him.

He slowly trailed a hand from my thigh, up my back and to the nape of my neck, before balling my hair in his fist. I gasped as I felt the sudden, sharp tug of him pulling my head back.

His eyes wandered down to settle on my exposed throat, before yanking my head to the side and nestling in the crook of my neck. He must’ve left a hundred open mouth kisses, but as he started to suck, I felt his teeth sink into my skin. I pulled back with a hiss at the sting, but he wouldn’t let go. He just kept on leaving harsh, red bitemarks and pulling my hair, all the time grinding harder into me.

He licked over the bruises he’d left and gently kissed them, before trailing his tongue up my neck to nip at my ear. He smiled darkly and pulled back away from me, dropping my legs back to the floor. He stalked around me, eyeing me up and down like a predator. I felt him behind me, his hands softly holding onto my waist, pulling me close to his chest.

“You know what’s great about this?” He cooed. “You’re already pre-cuffed.”

I flushed and my core swelled hot, his breath so close to me made my skin tingle all over. He pulled at the top of my skirt and dragged it down my hips, letting it fall down around my feet. He caressed my thighs and then stepped back, tugging at my underwear, playfully letting the elastic snap back to me.

“Y’know...” He said, before the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling. “Marquis de Sade said ‘sex without pain is like food without taste’...”

My eyes widened at his words and my heartbeat quickened.

“So, let’s make this... delicious.”

A million thoughts raced through my mind, but before I could process any, I felt the sharp snap of leather against my ass. I jolted forwards and let out a high pitch yelp.

Even though I couldn’t see him, I could tell he was smirking. I could hear it in his voice. I bit my lip in an attempt to brace myself and he landed the belt across me again.

“Please, Jerome...” I whimpered at the sting, closing my eyes.

He brought it down again, making me arch my back in a gasp. A couple of tears rolled down my cheeks and I realised there was little point in resisting the torment. So, I gritted my teeth and prepared for another lick of the belt.

He whipped me once more, harder this time and a small scream escaped me.

“Please!” I begged.

I heard him chuckle with dark delight. The bastard was enjoying this. Of course he was. What else had I expected from someone like him? I tightened all my muscles for the next sting...

But it didn’t come. Instead, I felt him pulling my underwear down. Relief washed over me when I heard the belt drop to the floor and I realised Jerome was finished and was now crouched, ready to inspect his work. He ran his fingers over my burning flesh, taking in the bright red lashes he had left on me.

“What a pretty picture?” He said, landing a spank. “I wish you could see too doll, but having you cuffed is half the fun.”

His voice was dripping with venom and arousal and I could practically feel his grin in the air. He traced the marks with his fingers a little longer, before grabbing my flesh in fistfuls and sinking his teeth in. I gasped loudly at the hard bite. I wasn’t sure how many more of Jerome's surprises I could take. He laughed and ran his tongue over the new bruise.

“Yep. Definitely a pretty picture.” He smiled, giving me another spank. “I like those little noises you make, doll. Why don’t you make some more for me?”

He snaked his hand up my inner thigh and began stroking along my slit, relighting the fire in my stomach. I moaned, biting hard on my lip and tried to bring my thighs together, wanting friction.

“Naughty.” He said, landing a swift slap on my entrance causing me to let out a little yelp. “I need you to keep those legs open for me.”

It wasn’t as bad as the belt. In fact, it felt quite good. The heat inside me swelled as Jerome returned to running his fingers back and forth in my slickness. I hummed softly in my throat, fighting the urge to close my thighs again, my knees starting to shudder underneath me.

“Look how wet you are and I’m barely touching you.” Jerome chuckled darkly. “I wonder what happens if I do this?”

Jerome plunged two fingers deep inside me and slowly started pumping them. I let the warmth roll through me, moaning blissfully. He gently started to pick up speed, making it nearly impossible for me to keep my thighs apart. The faster he got, the deeper he dove, making me tighten around his talented fingers and struggle to keep steady on my toes.

My legs were shaking and despite my best efforts I just had to squeeze them together. As soon as I did, Jerome removed his fingers from me, leaving me feeling empty and spanked me hard.

“What did I say about that?” He barked, laying down another spank.

His spanking felt different this time. It felt pleasurable and sent a thrill up my spine.

“Sorry.” I whimpered.

“Sorry for what?” He spanked me again. “For being a needy little whore? Hm?” Another spank.

“Yes!” I gasped. “I’m a needy little whore! I just...”

“What? You just what?”

Jerome landed another slap at my core. It made my muscles clench, but it also aroused me so much more in a way I’d never thought I’d experience.

“What? What do you want, whore?”

“Please...”

“Big words, princess. What...” Spank. “Do you...” Another spank. “Want?”

“I want... I want you...” I forced, breathlessly.

“You want me? What do you want me to do, princess?” Jerome teased, tracing a finger along my burning entrance, just barely touching me.

“Please... Make me feel good, Jerome... Make me cum.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl?”

“Yes...”

“Are you gonna do as I say?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Exactly as I say?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Just please...Jerome.”

I couldn’t take it any longer. I felt so pathetic and needy. I needed him to touch me.

“So desperate.” He giggled sadistically. I supposed he loved seeing me beg.

Then, finally, he spread me open and dove his tongue deep into my wanting warmth. I closed my eyes and bit down hard on my lip as he swirled his tongue around inside me. I wanted to grab his hair and feel it in my fingers, but all I could do was squeeze my fists together in empty frustration.

Jerome grabbed a hand full of my ass, gripping it tightly, digging his nails in and rose his other hand to my pelvis front, pulling me down further onto his tongue. I squealed, a delightful mixture of pleasure and also pain from the tugging on my aching forearms. He ran his front hand down to play with my swollen clit, circling his fingers around beautifully.

He grinded his face deeply into me, sliding his tongue up, down, around and around inside me. He pressed his fingers down harder on my clit, forcing a loud moan out of me. I felt the pressure inside me build, coiling and tightening like a burning spring. I squeezed my thighs around his head in a desperate attempt to pull him deeper, his tongue nestling inside finding all of my sweet spots and lighting them on fire.

I could feel myself ready, ready to burst. He was pulling an amazing orgasm out of me and I wanted nothing more than to just let it go. All it took was one more upward jolt of his head, pushing his tongue that last little bit deep enough to push me over. I screamed out in erotic pleasure, letting the feeling flood me like warm water. My back arched and my legs convulsed until I withered, letting myself dangle from my cuffs in a breathless defeat.

Jerome slid his tongue out of me and pulled his face back away.

“You sing so pretty, dollface. Like a little birdie.” He said, squeezing the flesh off my ass.

He gave me one more light bite and a spank, before he rose back up to stand, snaking his hands along my sides all the way. He let his hands wander up to cup my breasts, massaging them softly. He leaned in close and began leaving wet kisses in the crook of my neck. I shuddered, his touch sending a cool tingle down my spine. He let his hands squeeze my breasts slightly harder, then pulled away and crept back around in front of me.

He stood facing me, his eyes locked on mine. They seemed to burn holes right into my flesh, creating a sense of fear in me. I was scared of Jerome Valeska, I truly was. But everything he was doing to me right now... The way he touched me, kissed me. I wondered how he managed it. How he was able to both terrify and arouse me in equal amounts.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t register his hand rising until it was firmly wrapped around my throat. He leaned down to kiss me, dominating my mouth with his tongue, making me taste myself. Once again, I felt the familiar warmth build in my core as I sensed we were not quite done here. He finished the kiss with a little nip to my bottom lip.

“Are you scared of me, doll?” He purred.

I swallowed hard, unsure if truth was wise here. Then I felt him increase the pressure around my throat, not wanting to wait for an answer.

“Yes.” I breathed.

“Good.” He said through an evil smirk.

He crashed his lips to mine once again, his free hand picking up my thigh to wrap around him. I locked both my legs around his waist, wanting to feel him close against me. I felt his erection hard, under his clothes, grinding into me and I wanted it. Badly. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving his taste on my tongue and raised his hand from my throat to grab hold of my face. He took his other hand away from my thigh and pulled at his tie. I didn’t drop my legs this time, instead I gripped tighter as he slid his tie from around his neck and scrunched it in his fist.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered.

I did as he said and he smiled, before spitting into my open lips and gagging me with his tie. I’d never had anyone do that before and it shocked me a little, but then again, I’d never had anyone like Jerome Valeska before.

He backed up slightly, just enough for him to reach down and unzip his trousers and pull down his underwear, freeing his erection. I couldn’t help but look down at it. It was bigger than any I’d taken before and I wasn’t sure how prepared I was. He started to slowly stroke himself, lifting up my chin to look at me.

He gently stroked a single finger across my jaw and then, suddenly, landed a harsh slap across my cheek. I yelped at the slap, causing a dangerous smile to form on Jeromes mouth. I should’ve been repulsed by him. He killed people and was aroused by my pain and fear, so why was I so attracted to him?

He angled himself underneath me so he was lined up and ready. He wrapped his hand back around my throat and then pushed forwards into me, causing us both to let out deep moans.

“You like that?”

I nodded and whimpered through the material of the tie. Jerome giggled darkly and with his free hand, gripped onto my waist.

“Brace yourself, princess.” He warned, through a poisonous smile.

He pulled back slowly, until he was almost completely out of me and then, like a bullet, ploughed himself right back in, jolting me backwards with force. He continued his thrusting rough and fast, making me whimper and bite down hard on the tie. I closed my legs tightly around him, pulling him closer and forcing him in deeper.

He let out a low, guttural groan and moved his hand upwards from my waist to slap me again, spitting at my face as he did so. I closed my eyes to endure the onslaught of him pounding inside me like a raging animal. I felt like a toy, dangling there for him to use as he liked, but still the searing pleasure of it all made me moan lustfully.

“Open those peepers, princess.” He commanded. “I want you to see exactly who’s in charge here.”

I opened my eyes and saw him grinning at me like a man possessed.

“You like this? You like me fucking you?” He growled, gripping my throat tighter.

All I could do was whimper and moan in response.

“I cuffed you and hung you up, hurt you, spat on you... even made you cry! And you still let me fuck you?” He laughed through shallow breaths. “You’re pathetic, you know that? A pathetic little whore.”

Jerome threw another slap at me and I felt myself tighten around his considerable length, taking him all deep inside me. He drove up into me like he was trying to break me open with his girth and I welcomed every inch of it.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He moaned.

I clenched my walls around him, the feeling of being filled by him sending flutters through me as he pushed in deeper and laughed.

“I don’t think your pussy ever wants to let me go, doll!” He grinned. “But I already know you like taking my cock like this, cause you’re such a good girl for me... I like that.”

I flushed at his words. I didn’t know why, but it made me feel good to please him and, in that moment, I would have done anything for him. I could feel my ecstasy creeping up on me, like magma rising inside a volcano. I cried out wantonly, the heat rising as he worked me, exploring every detail of my canal with his thick shaft.

He let go of my throat and moved both his hands to grab onto my ass and squeezed, steadying me so he could pound me harder and climb to release. His thrusts became erratic and sloppy and I could tell he was just as close as I was. I moaned loudly as he rammed into me harder and faster, burying himself deeper and making my arousal burn.

I could feel it coming, so close. I was about to boil over and all I needed was him. Just him. He continued thrusting like a raging animal, digging his nails into my flesh and scraping them along my ass, stinging sweetly. I whimpered at the sensation and tightened my legs.

“Cum for me, doll.” He panted. “I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

He plunged into me, pushing the magma higher and just so close to bursting. It was coming. I could feel it.

He pounded again. So close. Again and again, so hard inside me. Just a little more...

I screamed out, closing my eyes and letting everything go. The feeling of my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave of pure elation. My whole body shook from the force of it and I trembled like a leaf. Jerome continued to thrust into me until he too reached his climax. He growled like a beast and I felt him throb, releasing his hot load of sticky lust deep inside me.

We both relaxed, catching our breath and he stared down into my eyes. He unlatched his hands from the flesh of my ass and brought one round to gently stroke my cheek with his fingertips. It was quiet, but only for a minute.

He threw his head back and laughed like the madman he was, before pulling out of me and stepping back. My legs dropped to the floor and he began to put himself away and zip his trousers back up.

“Well, that was fantastic, dollface. Thanks for playing nice with me.” He said, throwing me a wink.

There was a loud metallic knock at the truck doors and I guessed whoever it was, was trying to get Jeromes attention.

“It’s been fun princess, really. But time waits for no man and I’ve got a party to attend” He said, smiling at me. “Well, more like crash.”

When he turned to leave, I tried to speak, but all that came out was intelligible muttering. He wasn’t going to leave me here, dangling, half naked and gagged like this? Was he? He began walking to the truck doors and I tried to call out.

“Oh! Wait, almost forgot.”

I felt a flood of relief when he began walking back to me.

“I’m gonna need this back.” He said and pulled the tie out of my mouth.

I was glad to finally be rid of it, but my joy was short lived, because he was starting to leave again.

“Hey...” I croaked; my mouth dry.

“Yeah, I’ll have someone come get you later.” He said, too nonchalantly for my liking. “For now, you can just... well, why don’t you just hang out?”

He laughed at his joke and opened the doors.

“Hey! You can’t leave me here!” I tried to shout, but my throat was too dry.

And then... he was gone. He really did just leave me alone, half naked in the back of a truck. How long would it be before someone found me? An hour? Two? The rest of the day?

All alone with my thoughts now, I decided the only thing to do now was wait. Wait and try and go over what the hell just happened between me and Jerome Valeska.

[luminnara]

It’s Been a Long, Long Time | Ch 7 18+ NSFW

18+ ONLY PLEASE

Warnings: nsfw, sexy sex, abo, knotting

Part 6 | part 7 | part 8

Tags:  @kyrah-williams williams @oceanmermaidwitch @shawnie--jo @super-cape @ferxaniti @namjoonwatcheshentai @fandomsstolemylife00 @youngblood199456 @nightlygiggless @darlingely @bluemoon-icecream @kaz11283 @jenjen8675309 @dollfacev8 @witchinpractice @mystical-b3ar r @sukeraa @momc95 @book-lover-2006

Bucky was still reeling from finally getting to hear her name. While the omega explored his apartment, he sank down onto his couch, his head buzzing with thoughts of her and him and his past life with HYDRA and how her name felt so, incredibly, impossibly right.

Amoretta.

It didn’t sound familiar to him, and he was pretty certain that he had never known it before. That made him feel a little bit better about everything, a little less guilty for almost completely forgetting about his omega. He hated how much less he remembered about her than she remembered about him, even if it wasn’t his fault that HYDRA scrambled his brain up so much all the time. No matter how many times he told himself that it was okay, that he was already doing his best, he couldn’t help but feel like he was a bad alpha.

But when she looked up at him with that smile and those eyes, so trusting and happy and comfortable...well, a lot of those negative thoughts flew out the window again.

“So you live here? Like, for real? Like, all the time?” She asked as she inspected his tv.

“Sure do.” He chuckled, sitting on the couch to watch her. “Whaddya think?”

She spun around in a little circle, taking it all. “It’s...perfect.”

Bucky smiled. “I’ll have to find some more blankets for you.”

Amoretta paused, looking at him curiously. “For what? I don’t think I could ever be cold with you around. You’re like a furnace.”

“Well...so you can...you know.” He was feeling stupid again. She wasn’t even thinking of nesting with him around, was she?

“So I can what?” She seemed puzzled.

“You know...make a nest…” he mumbled. “Isn’t that what omegas are s’posed to do? I’ve heard Bruce makes them…”

Realization dawned on her and her jaw dropped a little. “Oh. I haven’t gotten to nest in...um...ever?” She laughed. “HYDRA never let me.”

“...oh.” Bucky cleared his throat.

“But now that I’m thinking about it, that might be nice.” She glanced around the room, already looking for a good spot. “Maybe there? Ooh, no, I don’t want it out in the open, do I? Or maybe I do…”

“Hey, FRIDAY?” Bucky asked.

“Yes, Seargent Barnes?” The robot replied, her voice sounding from somewhere in the ceiling.

Amoretta jumped. “Can she see us right now?”

“I monitor everything in this tower,” Friday said. “Tony has designed me to run all necessary systems.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell someone we need more bedding. Blankets. Lots of ‘em.”

“I will let Miss Potts know right away, Seargent.”

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” He said, kicking his shoes off to rest his heels on the coffee table.

“Of course, Seargent Barnes.”

“So...you’re a Seargent?” Amoretta asked, making her way over to sit on the arm of the couch.

He stretched his arms back behind his head. “Seargent James Buchanan Barnes. World War II. I was with the 107th.”

“Is that how you know Steve?”

He smiled, his head. “Nah. We were always friends. Grew up in Brooklyn together.”

She sat up a little straighter. “Brooklyn?”

“Born ‘n raised, doll.”

“I wanna go!” She bounced down onto the cushion next to him, both hands pressing into his thigh as she suddenly leaned up towards his face. “Please?”

“Uh, sure.” He was a bit taken aback by her sudden movement, but he wasn’t complaining about how close she was now. “Mind tellin’ me why, though?”

“You mentioned it once.” She rubbed her nose against his neck, sighing happily as she scent of cloves filled her senses.

“...I did?”

“Mhm.” Amoretta snuggled up against his side, fitting next to him perfectly. “I don’t remember everything from back then, but I remember that.”

“What’d I say?” He brought on of his arms down to drape around her shoulders, hugging her closer.

“I think I asked you what kind of life we’d have outside of HYDRA.” She rested her cheek on his chest. “You told me we’d live in Brooklyn, in our own house. And…” she trailed off, blushing slightly.

“And what?” He asked, curious.

“You said we’d have lots of pups.” She chewed her lip, looking away from him in embarrassment. “It was probably just your rut talking, though, you know...i-if you don’t want that now, it makes sense. I mean, you’ve got this whole life now, and…”

She trailed off as she noticed that his chest was rumbling with a loud purr. When she finally brought her eyes back up to his face, she saw that he was watching her, features relaxed into a soft, thoughtful expression.

“Do...you want pups?” She asked, heart leaping hopefully.

“Always used to want a whole little family.” He pulled her up to straddle his lap. “Didn’t think I’d get the chance to, but now…hey, I never sired any for HYDRA, right?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good.” He sounded relieved. “That’d be a fuckin’ nightmare.”

“They made sure my heat suppressants kept me infertile.” Amoretta said. “They didn’t have a program for breeding super soldiers ready yet.”

“Good.” He growled. “No pups of mine are ever gonna grow up in a place like that.”

She reached up, running her fingers through his hair. “You really want them now?”

“Course.” He pulled her forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face against her scent gland. “Maybe not, like, now, now, but…with you? I do.”

Amoretta’s eyes widened, a happy little keen leaving her throat. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that…”

Bucky tugged her back so he could face her. “I’m gonna court you properly. Do it right.”

“But you don’t need to—“

“I don’t care.” He interrupted. “I’m an old fashioned guy. I’m gonna court you.”

She grinned, a hand trailing down the side of his neck. “How old fashioned, exactly?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Too old fashioned to have a little fun?” Her hand slipped down to press against his chest.

His purr turned into a growl, his hands moving to hold her hips. “Doll, all you gotta do is ask…”

Amoretta brought her lips to his ear. “Will you fuck me, Bucky Barnes?”

It only took a moment before his lips were on hers. He was gentle, but he was hungry, devouring her in a kiss that left her breathless and would have made her knees weak had she been standing. With his hands slowly sliding down to her ass, Bucky was perfectly content to take his time; he wanted to feel her, inch by inch, until he had memorized every curve and dip of her body.

Her skin was so soft beneath his callouses. He nudged her sweater up a bit, his hands slipping underneath it to grab at her tits. She couldn’t help but let out a whine against his lips when he brushed a thumb over her nipple, her nails digging into his shoulders as she held him.

When he broke away from the kiss, he gave her lower lip a sharp bite. “Bed. Now.”

Amoretta practically launched herself towards his bedroom, scrambling onto the bed without a second thought. Bucky followed at a much slower pace, enjoying the view as she shed her clothing.

“Hey, maybe I wanted to do that,” he teased, crawling over her. His lips found her neck, his fangs scraping her skin.

“I-I wanted to make it easier for you,” she gasped, back arching as he gave her scent gland a gentle bite.

“I wanna take my time with you, sweetheart.” His voice was husky and low, his breath hot against her throat. “I wanna enjoy every second…”

She sighed as he nipped and licked at her, her hands slipping under his shirt. Her fingers ran across his abs, feeling the way they flexed beneath her touch as he ground his hips into hers.

“You’re overdressed,” She said, tugging at his hem. “Let me see you.”

Bucky broke away from her neck and grabbed his shirt, shucking it off and tossing it behind him. “Better?”

“Much,” She hummed, taking in the sight of his naked torso.

“Good.” He took hold of her hips, leaving a trail of kisses behind as he made his way down to her pussy. “God, you smell fucking amazing…”

Amoretta trilled happily. “So do y—oh my god…”

His tongue was already lapping at her. She couldn’t remember anyone ever eating her out before, but Bucky seemed determined to make up for lost time. He acted like he was starving, sucking and nipping at her clit while he sank a finger inside of her.

Her hips bucked against him, his vibranium hand holding her down while his human hand played with her. She was already soaked, slick running down her thighs, and her scent was driving him wild.

“Fuck, I want you…” he growled, adding a second finger. “So wet, so willing…and you smell so delicious….” He inhaled slow and deep, savoring it. “I think I’ve missed this…”

“D-do you actually remember all the t-times you rutted with me?” Her voice hitched with little gasps as he stroked her inner walls.

“Yes and no.” He admitted, leaning his cheek on her thigh and looking up at her. “But I know this scent…”

“What scent—ah!” She bit her lip as he crooked his fingers a few times, warmth mounting in her belly. “K-keep going, I’m—FUCK!”

She shuddered as an orgasm rolled through her, electricity tingling in her limbs.

“The scent of my omega, all drippin’ wet, just for me.” He pulled his fingers away, licking them clean. “I wanna fuck you, doll…”

“Please,” she whimpered, scooting back up toward the pillows as Bucky stood.

Amoretta’s eyes were glued to his hands as they unbuckled his belt, his movements quick and determined. He was tired of waiting around. He wanted her now.

As he shoved his pants down off of his hips, she bit her lip again, rubbing her thighs together. She could remember how good he felt inside her, and as she thought about the way he always used to snap his hips into hers, she felt another trail of slick running down her legs.

At the sight of his cock, she was practically a waterfall.

Before he could get back to her, Amoretta was flipping over onto her hands and knees, presenting herself for him with her ass up in the air. She peeked back over her shoulder at him, watching as froze and then stiffened, a low, impossibly loud growl rumbling in his chest.

“Good girl,” he praised her, his cock already rock hard as he crawled across the bed towards her.

Amoretta gave a little wiggle, trying to convince him to hurry up. When his hands grabbed her hips and jerked her back against him, she squealed in surprise, the sound melting into a moan as he rubbed his cock against her.

“Please,” she whined. “Please, please just fuck me, Alpha, I need it…”

“How bad?” He leaned over her, nipping at her shoulder.

“S-so bad, please, just—“

She interrupted herself with another moan, her hands clutching at the sheets as Bucky finally gave her what she was craving so badly.

He pressed himself into her slowly at first, waiting to feel some resistance. She was so soft and warm that he almost came then and there, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as he forced his hips to still. Fuck, how could someone feel so good? Her pussy felt perfect around him, gently squeezing his cock as he pulled back out and then thrusted back in, already balls deep inside her. He could tell why he had liked her so much during his ruts, but he had no idea how he could have managed to fuck her for more than thirty seconds during one.

When he started moving again, Amoretta turned into putty. She was absolutely melting, angling her hips so that he could sink in deeper and deeper, slick running down her thighs.

“You like my cock, baby?” He asked, voice muffled by her neck as he dragged his lips over her skin. He wanted to be as close to her as possible, and he didn’t care if that meant both of them being a tangled mess of limbs and sweat. He just wanted her.

“Y-yes, Alpha,” she gasped, slowly sliding down until her chest was squished against the bed. He felt even better than she remembered, his cock rubbing against every single perfect spot inside of her. He was stretching her out comfortably, her slick providing more than enough lube to ensure that his size could never hurt her.

Fuck, he was perfect. He was made for her. They were made for each other.

Bucky was pressed against her back, shielding her with his entire body. He didn’t want anyone else to see his omega. The sight of her there, beneath him, taking his cock so well was for him and him alone, and he was going to make sure it stayed that way.

“Want me to fill you up?” He asked, licking her scent gland.

“Y-yes please,” she moaned, leaning her head back for him.

“Want me to breed you, over ‘n over, ‘til you’re full of pups?” He bit at her jaw.

“Yes!” She cried, whines and trills all flooding from her throat in a symphony of needy sounds.

“Say my name,” he panted, his knot already beginning to swell.

“B-Bucky,” she moaned as she felt it catch on her. Fuck, she had forgotten how good it felt to be stretched and feel it filling her.

He let go of her hips, his hand finding hers. “No, my real name…”

“J-James,” she gasped, intertwining their fingers together. “James…please knot me...”

That was it.

Hearing her gasping and moaning his name sent him over the edge, and before he could stop himself, he was exploding inside of her. He snarled, biting her shoulder again as he held her down, his knot locking him in place as he pressed his hips forward.

Amoretta sighed happily at the feeling, relaxing as Bucky’s weight fell onto her. He was panting hard, trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck,” he sighed, kissing the already-healing bite marks on her shoulder. “Sorry ‘bout the bites.”

Amoretta grinned at him as he helped her turn onto her side. “I like your bites.”

“Oh yeah?” He pulled her up against his chest, settling in to wait for his knot to go down once more. “I’ll remember that.”

“Super soldier, remember? Built to withstand you at your roughest.” She snuggled back.

“Guess I’ve got something to thank HYDRA for, after all.” He chuckled, drawing lazy circles on her hip. “You didn’t cum when I was inside you, did you?”

“No, but that’s fine.” She shrugged. “I did before.”

“That’s not enough,” he growled. “If my knot wasn’t so swollen right now, I’d be fucking you until your legs shake.”

“Is that a promise, Sergeant?” She asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“It is.”

“Well, then…” she held his jaw in her hand, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “I can’t wait for your knot to go down.”

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Chapter 3: Happy Little Accidents (Identities)

Prev

AO3

@maribat-bdbwm

Marinette stared at the man in front of her, trying not to let her jaw drop. Sure she’d seen pictures of Bruce Wayne last night, Adrien made sure she was well educated on the man’s less than ideal fashion choices. But his choice of a sharp suit or his eyes that too closely matched hers weren’t why her jaw dropped. No, her jaw dropped because-

“Batman!” She says, in a wonderful moment of word association added to the man’s height and build. Mr. Wayne’s eyebrow quirks up and Marinette’s face instantly turns bright red as she hears the snickers of her classmates around her. Marinette immediately wishes that they would have left her and gone back to the bus without her, but no such luck. Instead they got to see her embarrass herself in front of her bio dad for the first time. Not that they knew that, but still. It was the principle of the thing. 

“I-” Mr. Wayne starts, but she cuts him off. 

“Oh, no, oh my god, I’m- no, I’m so, so sorry. I just, you’re- and you- and well yesterday, um, so I just, you seemed really familiar and I saw Batman yesterday so I said it and I shouldn't have and I'm so sorry I'm just freaking out cause my bi- ohhhhh….I mean-” Marinette rambles on, her blush darkening as she tries and fails to let out a coherent sentence in front of the man. She’s mercifully saved by the sharp blare of an akuma alert, the phones of every one of her classmates blaring at the same time. Mr. Wayne and the other employees in the lobby of Wayne Enterprises look confused, but Marinette is relieved. 

“What-” Mr. Wayne tries to ask, but is cut off yet again. 

“Oh well that’s not good gotta go call Paris-bye!” She yells, rushing away from the group and towards the bathrooms. She groans at the look Kaalki give her when she opens her purse. 

“That was a disaster.” They say simply with an unamused face. Marinette groans again. 

“Please don’t remind me. Tikki, spots on! Tikki, Kaalki, unify!” Marinette yells before calling a portal and falling into Paris, the awkward situation pushed to the back of her mind while she pours her focus into her Ladybug duties. 

---

Bruce Wayne was confused. And worried. But mostly confused. Or, the confusion overweighed the worry until he asked about the alarm on the French class’ phones. That’s when the worry began to take center stage. A supervillian? In Paris? For almost two years? Why was the League not informed? 

“Um, would you like to watch the battle, Monsieur Wayne?” A blonde boy asks, holding his phone out and rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous fashion. Bruce studies the boy for a moment and recognizes him as the one who hugged Miss Dupain Cheng the day prior. His daughter. Who is currently living in a city with a supervillain and no League intervention. Nodding, Bruce takes the phone and watches the battle, his horror growing. There was one hero, rushing around the scene, one of her pigtails singed and soot covering her face. What the hell kind of villain was this? And why did the hero look so small? Bruce flinches as the hero, Ladybug the comments called her, is thrown against a building roughly. He waits with baited breath until she stands back up, her face set in a grimace before she went on the offense with a vengenace. 

“Who is this villain? I’ve never heard of them?” Bruce asks Adrien, not bothering to look away from the fight. 

“I don’t know this one’s name, Akumas all have different names and powers.” Adrien replies. Bruce’ gaze snaps up to meet Adrien’s as his blood runs cold. All. As in, multiple. 

“How many villains?” He asks, thankful that his newly discovered daughter is currently in Gotham instead of Paris, a sentiment he never expected with the crime rates of his beloved city. 

“Oh, there’s only one villain. Hawkmoth. Akumas are just people who’ve had a bad day.” Adrien explains as if it’s a simple concept. 

“And what does that mean?” Bruce asks, feeling frustration creep into his neutral posture. 

“It means that what you’re seeing right now is a normal citizen who’s being controlled. Hawkmoth…. He has the power to control anyone who shows an extreme negative emotion. Heartbreak, anger, sadness, lonelines, anything negative can be used against you. We, Paris that is, don’t blame those who were akumatized. They can’t even remember what they did when they were under his control. It wouldn’t be fair to hold them accountable.” Adrien explains, and Bruce can’t help the feeling of complete and total helplessness that rushes over him. If he went to Paris, even with the intention of helping the hero in order to protect his daughter, he could become an even bigger obstacle. He could hurt her. He could hurt others. 

“Is that why the Justice League isn’t there?” Bruce asks, slightly amused at Adrien’s face rapidly changing from understanding to shocked. 

“I-um, probably? If you want more information, miraculousparis.org or the Ladyblog would be your best places for information.” Adrien offers. Bruce nods, mentally making a note to check out those sites later. 

“Very well. Thank you. I hope the rest of your trip to Gotham is enjoyable.” Bruce says, careful not to slip into a threatening tone. The boy hadn’t done anything to him, and while he might want to play the protective father, he knew it wasn’t his right. Not yet, anyways. Now he had a supervillain to destroy from behind the scenes. 

---

Opening a portal into her hotel room, Marinette sighs tiredly. The battle had been tiring, especially since she was on her own. Chat Noir had some kind of trip that he couldn’t get out of and had aplogized endlessly for it. She had reassured him that she could do it, but now… she knew she could do it but she really missed her partner. Letting both transformations drop, she sighs, relieved that the odd number of girls in their class allowed her to have her own room. Until a gasp filled her ears. She instantly shifts into a fighting position, shoulders tense as she stares at-

“Adrien?!” She yells in shock and confusion. What was he doing? In her hotel room? Without her? How did he even get a key? How was she supposed to explain this? Well, he did know the basics from his time as Aspik but-

“But you’re Multimouse!” Adrien yells before clapping his hand over his mouth, his cheeks instantly turning red. Marinette’s eyes widen. 

“How do you know about that?” She asks, panic rushing through her system. 

“Oh my god.” Adrien says, his eyes widening as he glances from Marinette to Tikki and back again. “Oh my god.”

“Please don’t tell anyone! I know you don’t owe me anything, but I just really don’t know if I can handle being the center of attention and then my family would be in danger and I know they wouldn’t approve because it’s dangerous and I-”

“THE TWO GIRLS I HAVE A CRUSH ON ARE THE SAME GIRL?” Adrien says, his eyes wide as he cuts off her rambling. 

“I- wait what?” Marinette sputters, completely shocked at this turn of events. 

“Well I’ve had a crush on Ladybug for forever and then like a month ago, I was talking to Plagg about how mad it made me that people weren’t listening to you and how hurt you were by the whole high road advice which was, honestly, not my best moment. And somehow, I started ranting about how pretty your eyes are and how kind and amazing you are and so then Plagg told me that that’s a crush, and I thought he was wrong. Until I saw you the next day and realized that he was right but then I felt bad because I felt like I was betraying Ladybug by having a crush on you instead, but Ladybug is you. Which makes sense, now that I think about it and-” Adrien’s cut off by Marinette covering his mouth with her hand, desperate to get him to stop talking. 

“Plagg?” She asks, jumping back from him as the Kwami flies out from Adrien’s pocket. 

“Good job kid, you broke pigtails.” He says, gesturing at Marinette who suddenly felt like the human version of the windows error screen. Could this trip get any weirder?

Next

Tag List: @vixen-uchiha @liquid-luck-00 @stainedglassm @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks 

[hmspogue]

Outer Banks season 2 Official Trailer shot-by-shot rundown

A comprehensive post where I scream about analyze the entire trailer frame by frame for clues, theories, and plot. Just my own opinions and general tin foil-hatting

These are screenshots from Netflix’s trailer for Outer Banks season 2. I do not claim or own any of these.

note: this post is tagged as a long post if you wish to avoid having to scroll until your thumbs break.

“My old man used to tell me, ‘it’s best to never say you’ve hit rock bottom’.”

(Putting all of these shots together since they’re scenes we already know but-) Holy shit, okay let’s just....start off like this I guess, damn.

“'Trust me’, he said...”

Kiara looking back and forth between the boys like this really just feeds the headcanon I have that her form of grief this season is going to be her trying to hold it together for their sakes (and eventually just snapping).

JJ just looks fucking furious someone give these kids a hug? I already know this scene is going to ruin me.

“You can always go...”

JJ back working at the hotel. He looks literally so angry again in this scene I could see him self destructing at work and losing his job? (Please do not be isolating yourself you beautiful son of a bitch even though I know you’re going to).

Pope in the Twinkie (costuming wise they all are in warmer looking clothes for some of the shots, so just confirming it’s a little bit into the school year when this all takes place).

“Lower”

Big John was real big into pep talks, I see. (seriously can you imagine Big John having this conversation with like 8 year old John B after he fucking dropped his ice cream cone or some shit I shouldn’t be laughing).

I’m just-

These poor kids, I wanna know how the police all the way down in the Bahama’s knew about them?

Their calves....

“RUN!”

Are going to be so fucking jacked by the end of this season I stg.

Fuck you.

“The gold from the Royal Merchant....it’s here.”

For a while, I had thought that maybe they didn’t even make it to the Bahama’s at the front of the season and ended there (because everyone had been filming in there). But I guess they’re going to be making two trips.

If I were a bird from this POV I’d shit right on that house no questions asked.

oooooh ho hokay. Just so we’re clear. Ward Cameron not only get away with murder and about two dozen other felonies, but-

“Half a billion.”

HE STILL FINDS THE GOLD IN THE CRAIN HOUSE AND GETS TO KEEP IT?

Not the polo with the snap back, I just know this man has a playlist called Sad Boi Hours that is just Juice WRLD’s top 5 songs on Spotify and he tells his friends they wouldn’t know the underground artists he listens to.

Sh, you have lost screaming privileges. Go inside and take a nap maybe.

“John B, we are fugitives in a foreign country.”

So, previously, I was talking about how I was confused how they would still be trying to find him is everyone thought he was dead, but here the wanted poster clearly says “presumed lost at sea”. I think that will be interesting to see how the Pogues all interpret that. 

Especially because they already had a memorial for John B and everything, I wonder if there will be any part of the Pogues holding out hope that they both could still be out there OUCH.

I’m going to circle back to this, but it looks like John B and Sarah are going to get separated for a little while in this man hunt, I could see my idiot himbo son trying to sacrifice himself so Sarah can get away but in reality just....stranding her.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?”

Oh, sweetie....

“Well, Sarah Cameron, I do stupid things all the time without realizing it.”

The volume of his self awareness is astronomical. sir, that is your whole character summed up in your own words.

GOD, IT’S ME AGAIN. PLEASE LET THEM LEAN INTO COMPLETE HIMBO JOHN B THIS SEASON I’LL DO ANYTHING-

nyyooooOOOOOOOOOOOOM-

“Hold on!”

The complete abject terror I would feel having John Booker Routledge driving get-away and then saying the words “Hold on” while reaching fro the gear shift? The english language fails me. 

Sarah, bestie, I’m so sorry.

I just wanna know-

what the plan or objective was in this situation. What was the reason for being this dramatic.

Rest in piss, bozo <3

“Ward’s still out there...”

Okay, same conversation they were having as before. I wonder what makes them decide they need to get back to the OBX for this tho.

“I can clear my name. This can all be over in one shot.”

It looks like Topper watching this but way more concerningly, correct me if I’m wrong but this 100% looks like....John B gets caught. And the DEATH PENALTY?! He did have a mug shot for the fliers in s1 and the one above but he was never brought in? Plus he just looks super dirty and dishevled in this one so I-

Jail break anyone?

I also still want to know if they’re going to go with a Topper redemption arc this season. like, does he know more than he should just from being around Rafe and his big fat mouth? Is he going to help out the Pogues even if it’s just for Sarah?

This shot just suddenly made me really sad. The thought of this all started because Big John left one last thing for his son to find, his literal life’s work. And when it all started, it was just a fun adventure John B and his best friends were going on together and having fun with. Then it all got dragged to absolute shit and turned into what it did, including the remaining 3 Pogues thinking that this treasure hunt took their two best friends away from them. And it’s nothing like Big John intended it to be.

Why my eyes wet?

Now we’re edging into what I was talking about earlier with John B and Sarah getting separated.

“If you think there is anything I wouldn’t do...”

Once again, John B is no where to be found. Also, just in case y’all didn’t already know or forgot Ward is an actual psychopath.

I believe this one of the new character, played by Jontavious Johnson (Stubbs). Based on the voice over it lowkey sounds like they’re implying Ward maybe hired Stubbs and Cleo to find and bring Sarah back. My theory would be I bet they do go to retrieve her, but she somehow convinces them that it would be more beneficial for them in the end to be on the Pogue’s side instead.

Miss Girl you gotta be keeping your head on a SWIVEL. Especially when you’re a FUGITIVE of the LAW-

“...you haven’t been paying attention.”

My guy, who are you clarifying this for?

It’s what you deserve for monologuing.

in all seriousness, the idea of them coming to face to face with Ward in Nassau after thinking they finally escaped him is genuinely terrifying.

“SARAH!”

It kind of looks like they’re either hiding their faces or covering their noses? I don’t know maybe it was from some tactic to get away from Ward.

What did I literally jsut say about yelling privileges, you unhinged mother fucker?

“I’m calling the shots now. I’m driving.”

The following progression of scenes made me actually snort-

“I can’t drive stick.”

PLEASE THE FINGER GUNS LAUNCHED ME INTO ORBIT I LOVE THEM, YOUR HONOR.

Alright, so now it looks like we’re in Charleston. This is the same scene with Heyward’s truck that got leaked from BTS (read: JJ and Kie shoulder touch).

One of the main things that stuck out to me in the following scenes which, you will see, is it lowkey looks like Pope is kind of heading up this part of the operation, or even going in alone? The following clips are just very Pope focused. 

I don’t know what it means, it’s just an observation.

“John B was not the only one that Ward double-crossed.”

LIMBRY-

Bro, we have been hearing about this woman for literal months and I just have....so many questions? 

Who the hell is she? How is she connected to Ward? Why is she in South Carolina instead of the OBX? How do the Pogues even learn about her and how to track her down? How is she meant to “help” them? GAH I JUST WANNA KNOOOW. I already know I don’t trust her though and no I will not be offering up supporting evidence.

Sir, that is my son please unhand him.

“I think you know what I want.”

.......no? But feel....free to explain yourself?

The print on the paper is the same one that’s on the ceiling tiles in the following scene. Obviously, with a key on it that most likely goes to the place a few shots from now.

Hell yeah, son, let’s get SLEUTHING.

“The treasure belongs to the Pogues.”

DAMN STRAIGHT.

Bestie’s I’m not going to lie, I stared at this frame for a solid 10 minuets and I have no idea what it says on there I’m sorry. Someone in the comments is welcome to enlighten us.

“We gotta find it first.”

I can’t tell if that’s just dirt or if he hurt his head? But he look GOOD right now for one thing. For another, same outfit as the one in the Twinkie from the beginning of the trailer.

Look at her. LooK AT HER! LOOK! AT! HER! I MISSED HER SO MUCH even in that damn smiley face top that continues to haunt my waking hours she is in it so much and it stresses me out for literally no good reason I’m sorry-

I could literally cry right now and I think that speaks volumes to how little we actually see him genuinely happy. Have I mentioned how much I love that red hat?

Also, probably not that important, but this is not from the same scene as the shots of Pope and Kiara were. This is from the next one-

“Woogity-woogity?”

“Give me some woogity, baby!”

Yeah, this pushed me over the fucking edge, the way that they’re actually happy and laughing? The fact that they kept woogity-woogity and made it A Thing? Yes.

I am, however, going to be intentionally ignoring what appears to be the very intentional stagingof having such an obvious space between where Kiara and Pope are sitting adn where JJ sits, even including the level they’re sitting on because I don’t have the emotional capacity to face those implications right now. Thank you for your time.

Yes yeeeeEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

GIVE ME ALL OF THE SCENES OF THEM ACTUALLY GETTING TO BE TEENAGERS AND JUST BREATHE AND LAUGH AND HAVE A GOOD TIME AND NOT BE RUNNING FOR THEIR FUCKING LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!

before Rafe comes in and literally starts shooting because they can’t breathe for more than 7 seconds but we’ll....get to that.

They refer to Sarah as a Pogue this season or I burn Netflix to the ground. Your move, Jonas.

50 bucks says John B is driving the Twinkie again for the first time since being back.

I deadass think the Pogues JUST got Sarah and John B back and they’re just having the time of their life. Kie was in her smiley face outfit when Pope was in this one a few clips ago, and I still hold to the belief that that one still they released of JJ and Kie hopping over a fence is the Pogue reunion so-

Ward? I have no idea what he’s looking at behind the wall paper and I’ll be so honest I don’t care my eyes are only seeing Pogue content right now.

“This is a map of the whole island.”

This fit, when will John B learn how to operate buttons, stay tuned for season 5. Also my previous theory of this being their reunion outfits and stuff because Pope is in the back in the same jacket as before.

The plot thickens and so has JJ’s hair, Rudy drop the shampoo brand.

Please, dear God, tell me they’re back in the sex church. For @jiaaraa sake.

Kiara, your Madison is showing.

Okay, I really did try but all I can make out is Something to the tomb begin something something.

You’re welcome.

I am no expert but I do not believe boats operate on land.

John B looks like he is in the same outfit here that is in his mug shot we saw on the TV screen so I have a sneaking suspicion this is where he gets caught. 

“John B is back-”

Once again with the damn sexual tension that’s always between Barry and Rafe in every scene they do are we about to kiss right now?

“-it’s him or me.”

First of all, no.

Second of all, I’m just....so very confused about this time line this season. It kind of looks like Ward and Rafe follow and find Sarah and John B in Nassau (unless those scenes by the truck were actually back in the OBX). So did they....go to Nassau, then just come right back when they did? I’m just confused.

Put that thing back where it came from or so help me.

Literally when will you stop at this point I am begging you. 

This looks like the same scene the Pogues were, ya know, literally just having a good time at so fuck me, I guess.

Yeah, no, it’s going to be a no from me, I’m just going to pretend like I’m not seeing this and moving on.

I have simply no idea what is going on here or who that is on the bike but maybe JJ? Maybe Luke even? I think that’s JJ’s bike. 

The sewer scene. The SEWER SCENE-

For months sicne that tiktok leaked this damn scene has been genuinely all I could think about. So (obviously) it seems like they’re sending Kie down into the sewer to go do seomthing and things go horribly, horribly wrong. 

If you haven’t seen the tiktok, essentially all it was was JJ and Pope screaming and trying to lift up the man hole cover while Kie is begging for them to hurry from inside. I’m cheating a little bit as this isn’t a shot from the trailer but this picture was posted and it’s from the same scene.

I’ll just....leave this here. Back to the trailer shots.

Nice. Also, same shirt as mugshot.

Hey, um, what? 

Kiara’s car, she’s driving, I can’t tell who’s in the back seat or the front.

Holy God what is going on and how can I as an audience member put a stop to it?

So, same scene as we will see and was in the teaser but, for some reason, they’re all jumping off of a giant ass boat into the little life raft where it looks like JJ gets hurt later but don’t you worry we’re getting to that.

JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE THEY BOTH LOOK SO DAMN GOOD AND THEIR LITTLE SMILES SPARE ME-

Cleo 🥵

I’m so excited to see her arc and what it brings this season you guys have no idea.

Please for the love of God be about to get Ward Cameron’s ass like he deserves literally punt him into jail right from Tanny Hill.

Sarah at My Druther’s with what looks like a bloody bandage on her side? Same outfit she’s wearing when they’re running from the police on the beach and she has the bandage there too so. Interesting. 

Topper hugging who I’m pretty sure is Sarah, being a general douche because he’s clearly looking at John B like 😏 

Clips like these serve to remind me just how many of my worldly posessions I would gladly give up to be able to punch Topper Thorton in the throat one time. 

I think this is Cleo jumping off the boat with Pope after John B and Sarah. 

Absolutely busting a lung at Pope’s form in this one.

John B and Sarah waiting in the life raft, still Cleo and Pope coming after them. The obvious next question is where are JJ and Kiara. The scene I’m sure you all have been waiting for is coming up and clearly takes place in the life raft as well.

So, I really think JJ and Kie get left for last, something horrible happens as they’re trying to jump (my head instantly goes to JJ maybe like pushing Kie out of the way and getting hit on the head instead or even just some accident). 

And, oh my GOD a scene of him falling off the boat after it happens and Kiara diving in after him immediately, having to desperatly try to stop him from sinkingand get to the life raft holy shit-

Girl CATCH HIM?????

Because why wouldn’t this be Rafe’s fault. Part of me wonders if this isn’t related to JJ being hurt.

I am going to try and unpack this as calmly as possible because behind my computer screen I am vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass but respectfully.

WHAT IN THE FUCK IS TIAUEWFHLAILA

Okay, so scene wise, JJ’s hit his head somehow (probably while he was jumping with Kiara) it looks like and now they’re back on the raft. 

In my opinion, this is either:

A) JJ is in really, really bad condition after getting hurt in the jump and they’re not sure he’s going to make it. So this is a “Please stay with me, stay awake, please don’t die” hug OR

B) They very narrowly just avoided a deadly situation (my first thought is JJ hits his head while jumping, passes out in the water, maybe almost drowns but Kie and the others get him onto the life raft in time) and this is more of a “Oh my God, you’re okay, you’re safe now, we’re okay” hug. 

I honestly lean more to the second one based on the little bit of Sarah’s face we saw in the background. To me, it almost looked like she was smiling thru tears, which, fits way more with the second option than the first. 

Anyways. Moving on before I burst a lung again.

(also, before anyone comes at me, no, I’m not happy JJ is hurt, obviously.  

(Once again, arrest outfits). You can still see the bandage but it looks like Sarah’s limping now too so...good Lord give the girl a break maybe?

Everything in this trailer just went to shit so fast I think I have whip lash, can we go back to the Pogues hanging out and being happy now pkease I liked those scenes.

“I get it. You guys are scared.”

“No.”

She’s cute but, uh, hello sewer scene outfits. Seems like them planning to do whatever the hell they were going to do in the sewers but the boys are starting to get cold feet as maybe they should but hind sight is 20/20 I suppose.

“It’s kind of cute.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You should’ve just led with that.”

I will never be able to express how much I adore Pogue banter and general dumbassery and I have a feeling this season will not be lacking in either department

I high key don’t think these two are actually going to be there for this scene to go down but I’ll let it slide this time because-

They do be kinda cute.

It both feels like I’ve been waiting for this damn show for 3 years and also like I just watched season 1 last month explain that to me. 

Either way holy shit. I missed this dumb show and these dumb kids so much it physcially hurts and WE GET THEM BACK IN T-MINUS 16 DAYS.

Also. Where The Hell Is Wheezie Cameron And When Will She Have The Rights She Deserves.

[annie-mit-ie]

Glimpses: Part 16 (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 // previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter

Summary: A lot is happening.

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: hello again! I was away on a family vacation over the weekend and am sitting in a car on the way home. This is, one again, entirely written and edited on the phone so pls be kind 🥰

Moreover, I can’t believe how many people loved and reacted to the last part. Good confidence boost! Hope y’all will enjoy this lighter chapter as well - a new rollercoaster is already awaiting around the corner ;)

Tag List: @danvers97 @zafirosreverie @srtamercurio @wanatag @pulledbythestars17 @plantowl @spacehahn @sarahp-stan @agentbrownierso @our-blood-is-our-ink @fruityhahn @emril-osvigne

_____________________________________________________________________________

“You told her WHAT?” Jennifer looks at Kathryn in disbelief.

Kathryn, who is sitting on the couch, tea in hand and a wide smile on her face, looks at her manager. “That I think I am in love with her. Yup. I did that,“ she takes another sip. „Because, you know, I think I am.“

She smiles to herself and looks at her tea before she continues talking. „I can’t stop thinking about her. I want her around. Preferably at all times. I know I haven’t talked to her or anyone about it, but really… the whole thing with Jeffrey really made me realize… I couldn’t touch that man. At all. I couldn’t even bring myself to think about it. Because of her. I really do think this is it, Jen.”

Jennifer looks at Kathryn and for a moment both woman fall silent. “I just… I don’t think it’s a good idea. You might be at the height of your career right now. I just have a gut feeling.”

“Eh,” Kathryn waves the remark off with one hand. “You’re wrong.”

Not giving it another thought, she sips her tea and sits in silence, as Jennifer shakes her head and leaves the room, running into Agnes who is just about to enter. Agnes reminds Kathryn that she had to leave for today’s set in a couple of minutes and collects whatever she needs with her.

Agnes seems to be in a very good mood and occasionally checks her phone to stay on track as she leads Kathryn out of the room towards the car she had called for her. The women slip into the backseat and Kathryn immediately lets her head fall back and closed her eyes.

Lately, whenever she does, she can see your face. She doesn’t mind that you didn’t say anything back after she confessed to you. After all, it was her fault for calling right after work where people usually still need her. Right after she poured her heart out, someone came running towards her and told her to meet the director for an urgent arrangement. Obviously, Kathryn had to hang up right away as the project is top secret and the actors are not allowed to have their phones on set at all to keep it that way.

Seeing the tears on her face, the crew member didn’t say anything about the rule and never planned to report her for using a device in the first place. You saw him on you screen for just a second and realized Kathryn had to leave immediately. Both of you smiled and it felt wrong but at the same time the way her eyes looked made up for it and her apologetic good bye forced your heart to skip yet another beat.

Back in reality, Kathryn opens her eyes again and smiles at Agnes who is placing her hand on Kathryn’s. “You okay, K?”

Kathryn nods. “Better than ever before. I just wish she was here, you know?”

Agnes knows.

Today’s shooting is long and Kathryn’s body aches as she falls into bed that night. Tomorrow will be just as long, especially since the crew has to leave the area for a 2-day-shoot in the mountains. She sighs as she leans up against the headrest to type out a message telling you about it all. This week, time is tight and she hasn’t had enough of it to properly talk to you again. Especially with Jennifer following her every step to make sure she takes care of herself.

Preparing for the long shoot, Kathryn puts herself in a kind of trance, especially since her scenes will be mentally and physically demanding. Two days later, she snaps out of it as Agnes and her sit in a car on their way back to the hotel. Weirdly enough, she is full of energy and beams as her team wants to go have dinner tonight to celebrate the end of the week.

She immediately strips and hops into the shower before getting ready for dinner. Thinking about how it’s only gonna be her and the team, she ditches an extensive make up and is just about to just put mascara on as it knocks on her door.

Expecting Agnes or Jennifer to pick her up, Kathryn wants to just ask for them to let themselves in. But something holds her back, so she gets up and opens the door herself.

It’s you. You, in all your beauty. Your hair the way she likes it best, some make up, an outfit that tells her you know she is on her way to dinner. Kathryn is not able to form any words and just continues staring at you as you fiddle with your hands and shoot her a shy smile.

For a moment, neither of you speak or move, until you take a sharp breath. “I am in love with you, too”, you hear yourself say, before you launch forward, cup her face with both hands and capture her lips with yours.

The kiss is long, but sweet and she holds you close after it ends. “Y/N… you are here… you are real…”

There are tears in her eyes as she reaches up to move a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve missed you so much. Oh god.” She sighs into your ear as she wraps you up in a tight hug while the door falls shot behind you.

A few seconds pass before she lets go and finally faces you. Realizing she isn’t in a position to talk, you take the lead, “I heard you’re going out for dinner?” She nods and cups your face to kiss you again. Hard. Wanting.

“Hold on!” You stop her. “We gotta get going, hm?”

Once again, she nods but you also feel your self slowly being pushed towards the wall behind you. Eventually, your back meets it with a thud, blowing some air out of your lungs. Looking at her, your chore burns and you bite down hard on your lower lip because you can feel yourself spiraling, wanting her, slowly giving in.

“Kathryn…”, you say her name, nearly moan her name. Teasing her with it, you want to see what effect it has on her as you let it roll on your lips. You are finally just about to give in as it knocks on the door again.

Realizing what had just happened, you jump back and remove yourself from Kathryn by ducking under her arms that are resting to your side. She takes a breath and flattens her shirt before running her hand through her hair as she opens the door. It’s Agnes.

“Boss? I’m - oh! HEY Y/N! Nice to see you found each other.” There is a short moment of silence in which she takes in the situation and realizes how out of breath Kathryn, highlighted by the cheeky smile you’re spotting in the background.

She coughs. “The limo is waiting. I’m here to pick you up, the others want to leave.”

Apologetic, she nods once and closes the door behind her again. Kathryn shoots you a short smile, grabs her blazer and your hand and leads you out of the room, following her right away.

The trip is nice. The whole team is there and you recognize Ben, the hairdresser, who is standing with Agnes and Jennifer, right away. As always, the manager acts professional and polite but keeps her distance while Ben wraps you up in a tight hug as he tells you he missed you. There is also a young blonde, whose name you don’t quite understand - Agnes introduced her as the set’s make up artist - and another assistant, who is responsible for all things regarding the project Kathryn is still working on. She seems very busy and organizes something after welcoming Kathryn shortly.

Quickly, you realize that Kathryn invites everyone out for a nice evening as a thank you for their work. She is one of the few people who realize that it takes a team to bring life into a character and it just makes you fall for her more. She shoots you a smile and lets her hand run over your arm before getting into the car where she sinks into the soft limo-seats.

Within the group, you look like you belong. No one would raise any suspicion asking who you are, especially since Kathryn’s set assistant, who is a local, organized a table at a restaurant far away from where the paparazzi would assume an actress would go out to.

The groups time at dinner is great. Once again, Kathryn takes the time to thank everyone and ask about their time and if anyone needed anything that she could provide. Occasionally, she would touch and squeeze your leg under the table and look directly into your eyes as you talk. You love when she puts her arm around the back of your chair to completely face you and take in every word you say. Sometimes, she would even run her index finger over her lip and bits down on it - a common thing she does that makes you forget every thought you’ve ever had. Other than Kathryn, everyone else also seems to be very interested into the stories you tell and they all make you feel like you are right at home, which is a welcomed change to how ex-partners treated you. Not that you and Kathryn are an actual thing.

When dinner comes to an end, everyone is high of laughter and slightly tipsy you are the last person to slip into the car. Kathryn is already sitting in the back of the long couch that fills out the limo. Sitting down, you move a little too fast, prompting her to use your momentum to pull you closer and plant a short kiss on your lips.

Immediately, you pull back and look at the others in shock as you realize you guys weren’t exactly open about it all, but no one seems to think about it any further. Jennifer types on her phone as the make up and hair artists discuss next week’s looks. Only Agnes really realizes and shoots you a wide smile as your eyes meet. Softly, you smile back and, having gained new confidence, lean into Kathryn’s touch who is playing with your hair and place another kiss on her lips before she wraps an arm around you and you just lean against her side.

Back in her hotel room, you sit down on her couch as you are unsure what to do with yourself. Agnes, who organized the whole surprise with you, organized a separate room for you where you put all your stuff this afternoon which is why you seem a little lost right now. She is an angel. Right after Kathryn’s confession, you called Peter who gave you his number just in case you ever needed him. He not only connected you with Agnes - he also offered to take you to the airport. With their help, you managed to get to the woman of your dreams within a couple of days.

Kathryn’s head pops out of the bathroom. “Make yourself at home, honey! It’s all yours as well.”

She shoots you a small smile before she pops back into the room. Sitting there by yourself for a minute, you try to take in everything that is happening tonight and are just starting to wonder where you’re gonna sleep as Kathryn walks back into the bedroom. Locking eyes with you, she walks straight towards you before plopping down next to you on the other side of the couch you are currently sitting on.

A soft smile plays along her lips and her eyes glisten in the bright moonlight that’s coming in through the open window. A light breeze is ruffling through her hair and the whole scene is soaked in dark blue light as the night makes your eyes heavy and you sink into the cushions.

For a moment, you sit in silence as she lets her head fall back with closed eyes and her hand rests on your ankle, slowly caressing it with her thumb. She smiles.

Suddenly, she straightens her back and sits up again, facing you. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You say back with the softest voice you have in you.

“I am so happy you are here. I feel like I can finally breathe again.” Her face lightens up, elevated by the moonlight.

You need a moment to comprehend what she has said before you respond. “I feel like there is no other place I’m supposed to be at.”

Fully focusing on you, she nods as she takes in your every thought while her smile widens. Another breeze comes in through the window and you realize one again how incredibly beautiful you think she is.

Actually,” she takes, “I really don’t want to change that. I would like to have you here.”

For a moment, your brain wonders if she wants to offer you a job - which, absolutely is dumb - but you remember to listen to her as she continues speaking: “If you want to… you can stay. Here. I would love that.”

You feel honored but at the same time you feel like this situation of not talking things out will continue if you don’t take the chance and step up.

You move a little closer to her, rest your elbow on the back of the couch and place your hand (that has been propping up your head) on her cheek, fingertips softly touching her hair. For a blink, you sit there and take in the moment of intimacy before you move a strand of hair behind her air and place your palm against the back of her neck, caressing her slowly.

“Kathryn…. I wanna be with you.” You decide to rip the bandaid off. “I want to hold your hand, kiss you, I want to spend any possible moment with you and just… be.”

Once again, she nods. “I want that, too.”

You both smile. Moving forward, you cross your legs as you take a seat right next to her to take her hands into yours. Her eyes shoot up and she looks at you in anticipation.

You take in a deep breath and collect your confidence to ask a question that makes your heart rate go up so far Kathryn would probably be mad at you for. Right as you open your mouth to talk, the brunette blurts out what is lying on your tongue. “Please be my girlfriend!”

You stare at her in disbelief. It’s what you wanted, but hearing her suggest it is a completely different story. “Please,” she repeats, “I know this isn’t gonna be the easiest ride but… in the short time we’ve been… together… I just.. I want to be with you. REALLY be with you.”

It’s time, it’s time and you can’t hold onto you anymore. You launch forward and pin her down on the couch. Her hands fall over her head and disappear in her wild mane. She looks at you with open eyes and widened pupils as a cheeky grin finds its place on your face.

“Yes! Let’s do it!”, you say before finding her lips and kissing her until both of you can’t breath anymore.

It’s not the romantic situation you’ve always imagined. It’s not the grown-up situation of being with someone older you expected. But somehow, it’s perfect. You remember the countless times she drove you mad. The times you had to hold back. The dreams you’ve had about her and somehow it just seems fitting that this is how she becomes yours. Breathless, on the other side of the world, on a spontaneous surprise after blurting out sweet confessions. After all, you are head over heels for each other which put you in the position you’re in in the first place.

Remembering all the hot longing glimpses she’d thrown your way tonight, you go in for another kiss and deepen it quickly, becoming one with her under the calming moon light.

[alfredolover119]

I looooove your zukka rec lists! I recently became Avatar-obsessed, never got a chance to watch it as a kid and only just got through it all! I was wondering if you'd consider doing a specifically angst rec list? I love fluffy zukka everything, but sometimes you just gotta have your heart ripped out of your chest and put back in after being thoroughly blended.

thank you! i relate heavily to “recently became Avatar-obsessed” haha. as for the angst list, i sure can try! warning: all of these have happy endings because im a crybaby who can’t read unhappy endings. also, p much all of the fics in the completed section were featured on my other lists but this is specifically the ANGSTY ones >:^)

angsty zukka wips

first, most obviously, feels like we only go backwards by @oldpotatoe

-currently at 102k with 19/27 chapters posted; rated teen

-the amnesia fic. the amnesia fic. the amnesia fic. you know. i haven’t actually read it yet because, as previously mentioned, i’m a crybaby and am waiting for it to finish up but, from my understanding, this fic will murder you in a dark alleyway with no remorse. if u like zukka angst, you’ve probably already read this, but just in case!

An injury leaves Sokka with amnesia. His last memory is of the failed invasion, of leaving his father behind in enemy territory on the Day of Black Sun. Of hopelessness. Rage. // But then he wakes up, and the war is over. Suddenly, he must come to terms with the fact that years have passed, and that he's somehow the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador to the Fire Nation. He is also supposedly friends with banished-Prince-turned-Fire-Lord Zuko, of all people. Close friends.

Yeah, nah.

and i’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands) by @goldrushzukka

-currently 38k with 6/8 chapters posted; rated mature

-holy shit. holy SHIT. modern au based on the “my cat likes my fuckbuddy and i am falling in love” trope(?). maybe it’s just because of how the last chapter ended, but oh my god. this one made me cry. made me want to commit violence. when it’s not angsty as hell, it’s pretty funny, but holy shit. ao3 user nebulastucky please.

It’s supposed to be a one night stand. Pick up some guy at a bar, barely remember his name and never learn anything real about him, send him packing in the morning with a thanks for the ride and a cup of coffee to-go. That’s how it’s supposed to go. // But then it’s the best sex Sokka has ever had, and he thinks he’ll hate himself if he never gets to have it again.

Violet Blossoms and Celestial Objects by @hollypunkers

-currently 15k with 2/? posted. rated teen.

-this is the sequel to blue (an angsty, zukka rewrite of book 2-- go read it if u havent!)! !! this is a book 3 rewrite. only two chapters in and mrs hollypunkers is really abusing the miscommunication tag, as zukka writers seem to enjoy doing. im excited to see how the world and story develops with the changes to the story! you should be too!! its very good! obviously spoilers for blue lmao

Having sided with the Avatar in Ba Sing Se, Zuko not only must navigate his new relationship with Sokka but returning to the Fire Nation as a banished enemy. His own journey of self discovery and personal growth must now coexist alongside the personal struggles of every other member of the Gaang as together they blaze a treacherous path toward an unsure victory against Zuko's own father and nation.

breakable heaven by @fruitysokka

-currently 71k with 9/11 chapters posted. rated teen

-swt ambassador zuko! soon to be chief sokka! fake dating ur best friend to get out of an arranged marriage! what could go wrong!!! i also haven’t read this one ((see: i’m a crybaby who is being hurt by too many zukka wips already)), but it has been hanging out in my marked for later for months. from what i understand, this fic has: angst.

With his twenty-first birthday looming just around the corner, the Southern Water Tribe Elders have decided that Sokka, next in line to be Chief, needs to get married. Sokka does not want that, but he does need to get them off his back until he can figure his way out of it. What better way to do that than to pretend to date his best friend (and newly minted Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe) Zuko? // Seriously, this is a foolproof plan. Maybe one of Sokka's best. Absolutely nothing can go wrong.

angsty zukka fics (completed!)

(i’ll put these in wc order)

lighthouse beam by @incorrectzukka

-7k, rated g

-a modern college au!! zuko’s inner-monologue is very angsty in this fic. typical zuko. also per usual, theyre both fucking dorks. they sort themselves out in the end, but not before The Angst. zuko is semi-deaf in this fic and also he has a bit of internalized homophobia.

Sokka’s breathtakingly beautiful and he’s smart and makes other people laugh. Zuko has a half-burnt face and a deaf ear. It’s not rocket science. // Or, Zuko falls in love with the boy in his Philosophy class.

This Isn’t My Idea of Fun by @khaleeseas

-9k, explicit

-moon spirit/nwt prince!sokka, no war to be found here! admittedly this isnt THAT angsty but like. the angst IS present. zuko is still the prince. a lovely childhood friends (though they hated each other for a minute haha) to lovers story. 

If you asked Zuko, he and Azula saw far too much of Chief Hakoda of the Northern Water Tribe’s children growing up. It wasn’t until they were older, and Azula pointed out that - duh - their families were trying to set them all up, that he realized why. // He was told by his mother to be polite. These people were their friends and allies, and though their nations were as different as they came, harmony between nations was the most important thing. // It wasn’t his fault the Chief’s children were so annoying.

put your lips close to mine (as long as they don’t touch) by @celestialceci

-9k, teen

-modern au! zuko and sokka are college roommates. zuko goes to spend the summer with sokka. again,, not really that angsty but-- its there!! the detail and feeling of Home in this story make me happy. zuko is insecure as hell here too. if ur into that. 

Zuko hates his home. He likes college alright, but he likes Sokka even better, his assigned roommate turned best friend. Spending the summer with Sokka will be fun, a welcome change of pace he desperately wants. It probably won't awaken anything in him... right?

the thing about dancing by anodymalion

-9k, teen

-yes. this one right here officer. it makes my heart ache. also trans sokka! which is cool. but the zuko angst in this one. hurts me. not so much relationship angst as it is zuko learning he deserves happiness angst. i’m sure u know The Type.

The first time a attendant spills Zuko’s tea and doesn’t immediately fall to her knees, begging the Fire Lord’s forgiveness, it is not anger but a resounding warmth that fills his chest.

i could (never) give you peace by @zukkababey

-10k, mature

-OUCH. OUCH OUCH OUCH. boys please learn to communicate im begging u. also zuko.. zuko, dude. as the tags of the fic say, hes “really going through it” in this one. YOUCH. post-canon.

Zuko almost said it. He almost said the words I think I’m in love with you, but he choked them back down at the last second. // Zuko would never be able to be what Sokka wanted. They might have needed each other during the summer, when two boys with too much weight on their shoulders found comfort in each other in the only way they knew how. // But now Zuko was Fire Lord, and Sokka was leaving.

this love burns so yellow (becoming orange and in its time, exploding) by @meliebee 

-18k, teen, major character death 

-i lied. THIS is the one, officer. found family.. good mai and zuko and toph friendships.. . ozai escapes prison and tries to overthrow zuko. OBVIOUSLY angst ensues. poor boy. he Does heal in this but it gets worse before it gets better. angst angst angst angst.

Ten months after Zuko is crowned at seventeen, he faces his first coup.

Anything for You by beersforqueers

-23k, explicit

-istg. this is probably one of my favorite zukka fics. its PAINFUL. modern au where theyre broken up but sokka hasnt told his family yet so zuko goes home with him for kataang wedding. a bit smutty, but the plot oh my god ohgm y fuvk. made me cry the first time i read it. (see: crybaby!me) insert that one picture of the horse with the caption PAIN. 

In which Sokka and Zuko have broken up but Sokka hasn't told his family yet. So when Katara and Aang's wedding weekend rolls around and he doesn't want to break Gran-Gran's heart, he asks Zuko to pretend to be his boyfriend for one last weekend. // Things don't go as planned.

Moving Mountains by @thefangirlingdead

-64k, mature

-so. when i read this the first time it was in one sitting. soulmate au set within canon era / the comics, to an extent. soulmates can hear each others thoughts. i will happily say this is slowburn, jesus christ. champagne without the cham. 

Soulmates are chosen by the spirits and can hear each other’s thoughts. Sokka thinks it’s cheesy and dumb. Zuko thinks it’s poetic justice that he doesn’t have one because he doesn’t deserve it. Cruel irony is finding out that the prince of the Fire Nation (and the person currently hunting you) is your soulmate.

In the Soft Light by @voidcenturyscholar and @romancedawning

-83k, teen, graphic depictions of violence

-moon spirit!sokka living in the northern water tribe. zuko is sent to the northern water tribe as a cultural liaison. iroh is the fire lord but while he is away taking care of lu ten after his injury ozai steps up. i cannot express how many emotions this fic made me feel. background yuetara. i would almost say found family?? but. anyway. plenty of angst to spare here with a healthy dose of enemies to friends to lovers.

As the newly appointed cultural liaison to Northern Water Tribe, Zuko is the first Fire Nation Citizen to step foot inside the city's walls in nearly a century. He's determined to prove himself—to the Fire Lord and to his father—even if the Water Tribe's spirit-touched prince seems to want nothing to do with him.

That Midnight Sky by @zukkababey

-103k, teen

-now now now. tms... modern college au where sokka agrees to tutor zuko in physics because zuko has to maintain straight a’s and physics is just not doing it for him. so. thats cool but THEN azula moves in, randomly, with zuko. to hide the fact that sokka is tutoring zuko, they fake date! what could go wrong!! the mutual pining in here combined with the angst... wonderful, tasty. everyone read it rn. also SLOWBURN 

In Zuko’s strict family, needing a tutor is just about the worst thing you could do. Failing a class, however, is even worse. The only rational solution? Take up Aang on his offer to find him a physics tutor and have Sokka—beautiful, smart, handsome Sokka—tutor him in secret. // When Azula’s arrival threatens to reveal Zuko’s secret, it’s up to Sokka to convince her this definitely isn’t what it looks like. See, he’s actually… Zuko’s… boyfriend? // Hmm. There’s no way this could get complicated, right?

[elareine]

If you could, can you please write JayTim or RoyTim (whichever one you want) trying to be romantic and woo Tim (maybe with some puns, I love puns), but Tim is a bit oblivious towards it, because the other is so cool, therefore they must be trying to make friends and be nice with him and nothing more. So when he does finally realize its an italicized "Oh" moment.

Hi lovely!! Thank you for waiting so patiently for this fill. I... ended up making it JayRoyTim, I hope that's okay? It just fit so well, but I can totally write something else with JayTim or RoyTim for you if you want :)

Also, it turned out to be about pick-up lines more than wooing, sorry. I might’ve gone overboard with googling the puns. It's long enough that I put it on ao3, too. What's your username on there? Then I'll gift it to you.

if you were a transformer (you’d be optimus fine)

“Well, here I am.”

Tim looks up, utterly confused. “I didn’t call for you, but… that’s… great?”

Roy waggles his eyebrows. It looks faintly disturbing. Redheads should maybe not do that. Or, actually, Tim revises mentally, thinking of literally every other redhead Dick ever dated—that’s just Roy. “What are your other two wishes?”

“Coffee and some silence to finish working this case?”

Roy looks weirdly deflated at that, but he does get him some coffee. Tim soon forgets about it.

—

(“How’d it go?”

“Does obliviousness run in the family?”

“Yes. Yes it does. Have you met Bruce?”

“…okay, fair. Your turn next.”)

—

“Jason? What’re you doing here?”

Sure, Jason and Roy have been spending a lot more time in Gotham lately. Something to do with a case, Tim assumes. Maybe even with the one that they worked on together in Star City five months ago?

Anyway. They’ve been around, is what Tim is saying. Not at the manor, but at Tim’s apartment and his workspace, cause apparently it’s not worth rebuilding their safe house after it went up in flames, and Bruce and Damian are too often at Dick’s place. He’s not exactly surprised to see either of them anymore. (Pleased, yes. But not surprised.) However, Tim has no fucking clue why Jason is currently grinning at him from the other side of the library desk.

At least Tim has the good sense to check his name tag before he gasps: “Jason?”

“Oh, hey, Tim.” Jason’s grinning. “Guess you figured out my new job, huh?”

“Yeah.” Tim shakes his head. “Color me surprised.” So this is what Jason’s spending his days doing. He’s gotta be shadowing someone, right? Tim’ll ask him tonight.

“I’ve always liked this place.” Jason’s gaze is far away for a moment. Tim badly wants to know what he’s remembering. Then the older man seems to come back to himself and gives Tim a weird—maybe angry?—look. “It’s a good thing I’m a librarian, too, cause I’m totally checking you out.”

“Alright, I can take a hint.” Tim grabs his book and demonstratively walks over to the self-service scanners. Really. How rude.

—

(“Are you telling me he managed to resist you in your cardigan?”

“Apparently.”

“Aww. C’mere, babe.”)

—

So Roy blows things up all the time. No, really, Tim now totally understands why Dick was so happy when he heard the duo is camping out at Tim’s place for a change. His older brother even gave Tim a thumbs-up, for God’s sake. He must’ve known.

Cause yeah, there’s at least one explosion every two days. Or Roy dropping something cause he’s too focused on what he’s thinking to remember what his hands are doing. Or something dropping on him. Jason seems used to it; he just catches whatever it is or laughs at Roy. Tim… is starting to learn to do the same, actually. Whatever Roy comes up with at that moment is usually worth it, and besides, he’s kinda adorable.

Aaaaaaanyway. (He’s using that word a lot in his own thoughts right now. Almost as if he’s avoiding thinking about something. Hmm.) Tim’s not surprised when Roy walks into a room, stumbles, and slaps a hand over his eyes with a dramatic exclamation.

Tim, in shorts and not much else cause he got drenched in pollen earlier, just raises an eyebrow. “Alright, Roy?”

“Nope.” Roy’s hand is still covering his face, but Tim can still see his grin underneath. “I’m gonna need your name and phone number for insurance purposes.”

“Roy. You have both of these things,” Tim explains slowly, wondering if Roy sustained a brain injury or accidentally dosed himself on something. “And why insurance?”

“I was blinded by your beauty.”

God. Sometimes Tim wonders about the original Titans and their socialization for the two dudes if this is how they think making friends works. Then again, Kori, Donna, and Dick probably appreciated constant compliments about their beauty. It all makes sense. Roy must be so used to it that he even uses those same methods when someone unexceptional like Tim is around.

He smiles gamely. “I’m looking forward to hearing that phone call. Must be almost as great as the time Bruce tried to convince his insurance company that Clark dropping on his car wasn’t an act of God because God is demonstrably not a Kryptonian. Neither was the giant ape punching Clark out.”

Roy drops his hand at that. “…Batman did what?”

—

(“You were doing so well, too.”

“I knoooow. How much more obvious can we get?”

“I dunno, but I intend to try.”)

—

“Do you like Star Wars? Because Yoda only one for me!”

“Haha. No. Star Trek or die.” Tim’s answer is automatic. He’s had these discussions soooo many times with Kon before. Of course Jason also goes for the space cowboy soap opera.

Besides, Jason’s boyfriend is standing right next to him. He doesn’t mean to sound flirtatious with Tim. Or maybe he does, and it’s just good fun? Or maybe teasing him? Tim can’t figure it out, but he knows he doesn’t like the weird hollow feeling he gets in his stomach when he thinks about it, so he changes the topic.

And makes both of them sit down to watch some classic Captain Kirk, of course.

—

(“Should I be insulted by that pick up line?”

“Nah. There aren’t that many lines that imply a polycule, though.”

A kiss. “Alright.”)

—

One of the things Jason and Tim have in common is their predilection for motorbikes and fiddling around with them. Not that makes them unique in the batclan; Tim has never spent days quietly working side-by-side with Dick, though, the way he does with Jason. They started out with separate projects. Then Jason saw this vintage Ducati at an abandoned warehouse he was about to blow up and, well… Would be a shame, right? Tim just happens to have had one of these before—regrettably lost to one of Harley’s exploding baseball bats—so he offers his expertise.

It’s not because it means bending over the engine with Jason, closer than they ever are, their hands brushing when they hand each other instruments. It’s not.

Roy doesn’t join them. He’s too polite to say so, but he finds normal cars and bikes boring af. Doesn’t stop him from popping his head into the garage and whistling when he sees that they are shirtless and covered in grease. It’s a damn good look on Jason, so Tim can’t fault him for that.

Roy follows it up with a: “Are you a parking ticket? Cause you got fine written all over you.”

Tim can’t help it; he blushes at the suggestive tone. Those two never stop flirting with each other, do they? So far, he has managed to avoid stumbling over them while they’re making out (not that they’re making that easy—the kitchen? Really?), and he’d like to keep avoiding that, thank you very much. He’s already feeling guilty enough for his fantasies as it is.

“Uh. I should clean up,” he mumbles and flees.

—

(“Dammit.”

“…do you think that was a rejection?”

“Nah. He was definitely checking me out before you came and fucked it up.”

“That’s saying something if you noticed it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”)

—

So Tim has magically acquired cat ears and a very fluffy tail. Don’t ask. They’re gonna go away in eight hours, and until then, he’s gonna stay in the cave and work himself to distraction. Jason seems intent on keeping him company, though.

(It’s nice. Tim loves hanging out with Jason—that’s not the problem. The issue is that Tim is looking ridiculous, and Jason is being nice about it, and none of this is helping his stupid crush go away.)

They’re absently chatting about nothing until Jason says: “Kinda a pity you’re a cat, though.”

Tim looks up. Huh? Admittedly, he never pegged Jason as the type to go for catboys (though maybe… he did hang out with Kyle… perhaps it’s just that he definitely doesn’t go for Tims), but that’s still a weird pronouncement.

Jason is grinning. “If you were a chicken, you’d be impeccable.” He pauses. “Wait. Like even more than you already are. Uh.”

Tim sighs. Great. And now Jason is making fun of him again. “Whatever.”

—

(“A chicken?”

“Shut up. I panicked.” A sigh. “He was so cute with these ears.”

“…yeah, he was.”)

—

“You must be tired. You’ve been running through my mind all night.”

“I’m not tired,” Tim says automatically. Why does everyone keep asking him that tonight? Surely the shadows under his eyes can’t be that bad? He used concealer!

Something in Roy’s expression softens. “Aww. C’mere.” He pats the space on the couch next to him, and when Tim sits down, Roy pulls him half of on top of him and into a hug. “Relax for a bit, little bird.”

Tim sinks into the embrace, boneless all of a sudden. Roy just has that effect on him. Tim vaguely remembers thinking of him as his oldest brother’s cool friend and then Jason’s cool boyfriend, kind of a fuckboy but clearly good for Jay.

Now? Now, Roy just makes him feel safe.

—

(“So you spent the night on the couch just so he could sleep in your arms?”

“Yeah. Totally worth it.”

“Duh.”

“I just wish we could do that with him every night. Bet he fits perfectly between us.”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“We might have to up the ante or switch tactics.”)

—

They’re talking about their favorite books—Tim doesn’t read as much as Jason does, but they discovered a shared love of sci-fi weeks ago—when Tim says: “Actually, that book kinda reminds me of you.”

“Oh?”

“Overly dramatic but good.”

Jason makes an offended noise, and Tim grins.

“I’m not sure which part I should argue about first.” Jason pretends to think.

Tim is always down to tell Jason that fuck his self-perception—Jason is a good man, one of the best Tim knows; that also feels too revealing right now. Instead, he gets up from their comfortable position on the couch and grabs the first stack on the table, carrying them over to the shelves to replace the gaps. “What kind of book would I be?”

“Babe, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.”

“Annoying and no one reads it?” Tim asks without turning around, trying to ignore the babe. That’s. That’s gotta be a slip of the tongue, right? Force of habit from spending so much time with Roy?

“No, fine,” and the emphasis is clear this time. Jason continues before Tim can reply: “Though if we’re talking books…”

Tim whirls around. “Save it. You don’t have to make fun of me just because I—“He swallows down the words.

Jason looks alarmed. “Tim—“

As if he can smell trouble, Roy chooses that moment to enter the room. Tim has barely heard him approach, Jesus. He doesn’t want to have this argument in front of Roy, though, so he just stands there in the middle of the room. Jason, too, has stopped speaking.

Roy, of course, takes one look at the awkwardness and decides to make it worse. Or more confusing.

“Did you just come out of the oven?” he asks.

“As this isn’t Hansel and Gretel, no, I didn’t.” Tim checks his shirt, just in case this is an actual conversation opener and not just a weird attempt at a distraction. “Do I have soot on me?”

“Nope.” Roy shakes his head, and he’s smiling that smile again, the one Tim is startled to recognize, the one he thought is reserved only for Jason— “Because you’re hot.”

And finally, Tim gets it. “Me?”

“Yes, Tim.” Roy’s moving in closer. “You.”

There’s a soft touch to Tim’s shoulder, and Tim whirls around, expecting Jason to be mad, cause his boyfriend is—is hitting on Tim, right, that’s what’s happening, Jason can’t be happy—

Jason is smiling down at him. His hand is still resting on Tim’s shoulder, but it slides down to his collar bone, a gentle presence as he murmurs: “You’re so beautiful that you made forget my pick up line.”

Oh. Oh.

Tim says the first thing he can think of: “Are you a raisin?”

Jason starts grinning. “I’m not even gonna qualify that with an answer.”

Tim smiles back. “Cause you’re raising my hopes for a kiss right about now.”

And he gets one. And then another, and then Roy joins in, kissing Tim’s neck and then his mouth and—Yeah.

They’re too busy for any more pick up lines right now.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Not My Yacht" *Chapter 1?*

So this is interesting:

So "Not My Yacht" was my very first fic. Like, I'm talking VERY VERY first.

So when I started asking around about ideas for a new series, a few of my lovelies went through my one shots and this story and "Doodling" got some good votes.

So, I decided to include the one shot and just added to it for a POTENTIAL new series. We'll see how this chapter goes over.

Also I'll be including Rita Calhoun in this for the FIRST time ever, so I may need assistance from @storiesofsvu to get her voice right. I did my best here. I'll be honest I've never really watched her, just that one where that guy blackmailed her or something.

Also Also, if it wasn't obvious enough this is obviously the beginning of the SVU episode "Her Negations".

I don't want to give anything away because I haven't even really thought that far, but I'm 95% sure this is going to turn in a William Lewis situation fic. So...pretty dark. I'm just warning you NOW.

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

And yes, the results are in. There is a part 2!

You breathed in the salty air of the sea of the sunny South Hampton shore; It was a beautiful day for a yacht party.

You walked along the pier as you got closer to your boss’s boat: The Crime Wave. Her husband’s idea of a funny name she claimed as she had invited people from the office to this soiree. You were lucky to even get an invite, just being the assistant to the owner of the law firm. “Who else is going to help me dodge boring conversations with men who just wanted a "free ride” on the bosses boat?“ She had teased you; or at least you hoped she was kidding.

You really wanted to just relax and mingle among the elite lawyers of NYC, seeing as you wanted to be one of them someday.

You saw your boss, Rita Calhoun waving you down as you reached the dock space.

"Ah! There you are, for a minute I thought I’d have to mix my own drinks!” She laughed with a wink. You laugh nervously, unable to discern if she was kidding.

“Calm down sweetie, I’m a big girl. Besides, I like to make them myself, strong,” she laughed again, patting your shoulder. Crap had your face looked that panicked? Keep it cool!

“Go ahead, enjoy yourself. I’ll be here, making sure none of those damn punks tries to sneak on here for free booze,” she scoffed, nodding to a group of highly dressed teens playing chicken on the shoreline.

You nodded with a half laugh, stepping onto the yacht. It was a decent size, a second level deck and a very spacious main level. Not a lot of people had arrived yet, so you decided to pick a spot on the yachts back bench area before all the seating was taken. You began removing your over clothes revealing your swimming wear when you hear Rita greet someone else.

“Ah, Barba. You know we have flare guns on board,”

You turn to see the ADA of New York, Rafael Barba. He’s dressed in a windbreaker and what could be either a dark red or salmon polo. You realize Mrs. Calhoun is referring to the almost neon yellow color of the windbreaker, and you can’t help but giggle. It must have been way too loud because they both turn to you which caused you to immediately shut up and go back to undressing and laying out your towel, but ever so slightly still honed in on the conversation.

“You can never be too careful Rita, who knows how many enemies I’ve made in this town; someone might throw me over,” he smirked.

“And anyone here could make it look like a very convincing accident….even my aspiring protege over there,” Rita nods over to you, knowing full well what you were doing.

Barba turned and looked at you, your body frozen in mid towel thrust. You didn’t know whether to throw it over yourself or just run off the boat right there.

“I know it’s an awful jacket dear, you don’t have to keep staring at him.” She called over to you. God why did she have to be so….her.

“Jesus Rita give the girl a break, or did you invite her just to torture her on unbillable hours?” Barba scoffed with a half smile, walking over to you.

“Is it really worth the minimum wage to put up with her?” He asked.

“Mmm…it’s more for the experience, honestly.” You replied surprisingly smoothly.

“Oh….well I mean I could give you the experience without–” He started but was interrupted by your boss’s loud exclaiming.

“Yeah I’ll BET you’d give her experience Barba! Stop hitting on my intern and mingle with the adults.”

If you could dig a hole straight through the boat into the ocean you would do it right then and there.

“…..Without THAT.” He rolled his eyes, lightly flipping her the bird behind his back. You see her respond with a laugh then turns her attention back to the guests boarding.

“She’s probably been drinking since she got on the boat, yeah?” He asked you.

“I…I don’t know I just got here….” You managed to squeak out as your towel strayed from your hands. Barba grabbed it and helped you reposition it on the bench.

“Kinda windy for a yacht party, but Rita will take any chance to celebrate anything remotely resembling a boost to her ego. Am I right?” He chuckled, before sitting down on your towel.

“Just to keep it from blowing away, do you mind?” He asked, gesturing for you to join him. You nodded a boisterous “NO”, plopping next to him on the bench.

“I’m Rafael Barba,” he extended his hand to you, which you took and shook gently, praying to God he didn’t notice you were literally shaking. You had probably had the biggest crush on him since you started working with Mrs. Calhoun, he was constantly in her office challenging her with warrants and favors.

“Oh yeah I know,” you blurted out, mentally facepalming immediately.

“I see….” He raised an eyebrow. “And you are….?”

You were about to answer when his phone went off. He answered it putting one finger up and mouthing the words “one second.”

“Barba. Yeah….what? Seriously, Olivia? On a Sunday?!” He groaned into his phone with an exaggerated eye roll. He raised his hand and ran it over his face begrudgingly as he talked.

“Yeah….alright, fine. Yeah I’ll be there, give me an hour. I’m in the Hamptons. Because it’s my day off, Liv! Do you think I lock myself in my office over the weekends like a vampire in a coffin? Yeah…I’m sorry, I just…” He glanced at you.

“I was enjoying my Sunday.” He gave you a small sad smile.

“Yeah. Ok. See you soon.” He hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go back to the city. Don’t let Rita push you around too much, okay?” He chuckled, rubbing the top of your head like a puppy. You felt your face scrunch up in annoyance, seriously? He thought of you as a kid?!

He obviously noticed, and quickly held out his hand again very sternly.

“Sorry, future counselor.” He said in an overly serious tone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. Again. Like an idiot.

Relieved he had fixed his faux paux, he gave you one last beautiful Barba grin as he jogged over to Rita and told her something before nodding to you once again, then walked off the boat and disappearing down the pier.

Your boss sauntered over to you, a shit eating grin across her face.

“Well Cinderella, you sure kept that cool.” She gestured for your phone beside you.

“Be sure to tell him your name this time,” she winked, handing it back to you. You glanced down at it as she walked away; she had added a number to your contacts.

“BHole Barba.” You laughed out loud. Nice. Maybe she wasn’t such a horrible boss after all….

--------------

By Monday you still hadn’t had the balls to text Rafael Barba. You had just stared at the number in your phone, imagining all the possibilities contacting him would lead to. You may have gotten so far as planning your summer wedding in the Hamptons, but nobody needed to know that.

But you had chickened out and left it alone, and now you were sitting at your desk typing up a memo for Rita when you saw him come waltzing through the door.

“Ah, Cinderella!” He smiled at you.

“Hey…” Your mind went blank, you couldn’t think of words. Wait, had he already given you a nickname?

“Cinderella?” You blinked in confusion.

“Well I never caught your name-- But I guess I shouldn’t even push it, you’ve clearly moved on and I must seem like a creep,” His train of thought proceeded out loud as he realized you hadn’t taken his number and here he was still flirting with you. Rita had given it to you, he had seen her type it in your phone. Obviously you weren’t interested, why was he pushing this?

“What? NO!” You said a little louder than you intended, actually a lot louder than you intended. You slapped your hand over your mouth after your little outburst, but to you relief he was still smiling.

“Oh? Well I suppose that’s good…” He was obviously fishing for your excuse as to why you had waited until he popped back in your face to talk to him.

“No, I um--” You racked your brain for an excuse that wasn’t “I was busy planning our lives together”.

“I….couldn’t think of something interesting to say,” You finally admitted with a pitiful sigh. You were not a good liar, and under pressure, forget about it.

Again, he still smiled-- but this time he laughed along with it.

“I mean, ‘Hello’ is always an option,” He chuckled. “Or...your name?”

“Oh!” Idiot. You hadn’t even given him your name, how was he supposed to fall madly in love with you without a name?

“Y/N,” You stuck your hand out awkwardly, Was this a ‘shake hands’ moment? Hadn’t you already met before? You stared at your hand as you moved it slightly back and forth, arguing with yourself whether or not this was necessary. Luckily, Rafael settled the argument by taking your hand and shaking it firmly.

His hands were so soft, his long fingers enveloped yours in them. You lost yourself in the moment, and before you knew it he was making an uncomfortable cough, snapping you back to reality. You dropped his hand and snapped yours back into your body like a zip cord, your face in a horrified stare.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, that was so weird. I’m weird. I’m--”

“Well I don’t know what you were so worried about Cinderella, you’re clearly a chatterbox,” He gave you a tongued smile, referring to the word vomit you just couldn’t help spill all over him.

“Oh yeah, I’m a total word machine,” You laughed nervously. A word machine? What the fuck was that?

“...Word machine. Right,” He nodded in amusement. “Well word machine, would you mind shooting some words to my phone, or do you just enjoy this face to face thing?”

“With that face? Definitely the latter. But you can have my number anyway,” You typed a quick message and sent it to his number. Damn that was smooth! How did you do that?

Rafael made an impressed face with your line, but when he opened his phone his brows furrowed.

“Hit?” He gave you a curious look as he read the text out loud.

“Fuck it was supposed to be ‘hi’-- stupid autocorrect,” You muttered angrily. Yeah, that was more like you.

“Oh yes, the dreaded autocorrect,” He nodded while saving your number. “Turning fucks into ducks since 2011,”

“Oh I didn’t have a phone in 7th grade but I’ll take your word for it,” You laughed, but stopped when his face twisted into a mix of horror and discomfort when he realized how young you actually were.

Dammit. Why...why would you do this?

“....Right, is Rita in?” He quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed into Rita’s office before you could answer.

“...Idiot!” You yelled at yourself as your hands went over your face and your face planted into your desk.

Well, that was nice while it lasted. All 2.5 seconds of it.

-----------------

“Well Barba, about time,” Rita smirked as Rafael abruptly burst into her office trying to get away from you. “Done flirting with the intern are we?”

“Shut up,” He rolled his eyes, though his face was a deep shade of red.

“Oh no, what happened? Did your dentures fall out in front of her?” She smirked.

“I’m younger than you!!” He scoffed.

“Yeah but I’m not the one trying to boff a 25 year old,” She smirked harder, making Rafael angrier.

“Can I just get the warrant I came here for, Rita?” He huffed.

“Oooh, struck a nerve there, did I?” Rita chuckled as she grabbed some papers from her desk and started to hand them to him. “Barba, for the record I’m really not judging you. If I were 20 years younger, I’d hit it too,”

“Excuse me?”

“I had a lot of ‘cats’ in college,” She winked.

“Wow,” Rafael held up his hands. “Rita, we really don’t need to be that personal.”

“Fine, but all I’m saying is if you like the girl, don’t let a stupid thing like age deter you. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s actually very competent and organized. I would almost prefer her not to graduate, unless she'd come work for me. She’s going to be a hell of a lawyer,” She gestured outside to your desk.

Rafael looked at the ground as he mulled over what she was saying, a small smile crawled across his lips as she complimented your potential.

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mrs. Calhoun,” He nodded as he walked towards the door with the papers in his hand, a huge smile across his face now.

He walked out to find you cursing at yourself and whimpering in embarrassment at your desk. When you heard the door shut you snapped to attention and stared at him, shocked he hadn't sprinted out of the office like Usain Bolt. Even more shocking was that Cheshire cat grin now upon his face.

“I-I’m sorry, I totally meant I was--” You tried doing math trying to make yourself reasonably older.

“It’s fine,” He chuckled as he put a hand over your counting fingers. You blushed at the touch of his skin on yours again, but quickly shoved your hands under the desk nervously as you tried not to look him square in the eye. His eyes were so gorgeous you were positive staring straight into them would actually get you pregnant.

“So does Rita ever unchain you from this desk?” He smirked as he was now very aware and very amused at how nervous he made you. He may be old, but clearly he’s still got it.

“Oh yeah, if I ask very nicely she let’s me--” You tried to think of something witty, but it wasn’t coming with him staring at you with those eyes. “....Yes,” You wanted to put your hands over your face but you didn’t want it to be a ‘thing’.

“Well, maybe if you’re an extra good girl she’ll let you off your leash early tonight,” He winked.

“....Am I a dog or a toddler in that situation?” You were genuinely asking, but Rafael clearly realized how insulting that must have seemed.

“Oh no no no, I just, shit,” He tried to backtrack but if he was being totally honest, you made him nervous. Maybe he didn’t have ‘it’ as much as he thought.

You noticed he was the one blushing now, oh my god were you making him nervous? QUICK, BE SMOOTH. BE SMOOTHER THAN YOU’VE EVER BEEN IN YOUR LIFE.

“Are you asking me out, counselor?” You did your best “sultry “voice with a bat of your eyes. Were you batting them too much? What was too much? Oh god you’ve done it for too long now. STOP BATTING.

“...I don’t know, guess you’ll have to wait for me to text you, future counselor,” He was impressed by the line, and decided to bow out before either of you made idiots of yourselves again. He gave you a wink and sauntered out of the office.

Great. Now he’ll probably make you wait two days for a--

*BEEP*

Your phone went off in your desk. You pulled it out to see a text message:

BHOLE BARBA: Dinner? Tonight?

You really needed to change his contact name. But that wasn’t the point right now. He just asked you out. Rafael Barba just asked you out. You stared at in your hands, unsure of what to do. Then you realized you couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t just sit there and imagine things, this required an immediate response.

You nervously typed a reply and hit SEND:

Sire ;)

“DAMMIT!!!” You cursed your autocorrect. You instantly sent another text.

Sure***

Before you could lecture yourself again, your phone beeped again:

BHOLE BARBA: Play

Play? What did that--

BHOLE: Okay** ;)

You typed the word ‘okay’ into your text reply bubble, ‘play’ came up in the autocorrect word list.

He was joking with you. He was flirting with you. RAFAEL BARBA WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU.

This work day could not end fast enough.

[extorchic]

TOP 5 SK8 Episodes

So I got tagged by @akira-cr to make this list, it took some time but I think I've sorted out my mind, thank you for considering me 😊. Now here comes the list, sorry if it's supposd to be objective, but I'm gonna let my heart out over here (It's gonna be a long post and I'm not gonna cut it ):

NUMBER 5 - Episode 6 - Steamy Mystery Skating?! (A.K.A. The beach episode 🏊‍♂️)

Well this is supposed to be "breather" episode, and it's basically the one that sold the series to me. I like how fun and chill this episode is, although it does (further) foreshadow Reki's insecurity issues. The music is of course SUBLIME! "Seize the Moment" is probably my favorite insert song of all time! (it's been present in Reki's beefs as well, but here it really reflects the fun nature of his character and the show overall). And of coruse, FANSERVICE, not so much in how the boys were in swimsuits (though I gotta admit Reki does look good in them), but on the RENGA interactions!

That hug gave me life! How Langa was worried 24/7 about Reki being injured, at the end when they skated together to escape from the Bantu! I gotta admit that I have some mixed feelings about the implications of Reki being attracted to the faceless girl (I mean, Bi rep is very important too), but I guess my shipping side was just as jelaous as Langa was supposed to be (according to the fans LOL).

NUMBER 4 - Episode 11 - King vs. Nobody (A.K.A. Reki rising! ✨🌺🌞⚙️)

Reki is, without a doubt, my favorite character. He doesn't need to win, he doesn't need to be super flashy while skating, he just needs to be himself. He's been through a lot, many people (including me) have felt tremendously related to him, and seeing him in this episode is just satisfying. With his issues behind, with a promise to skate with Langa after he wins and no longer fearful, Reki rematches against Adam; and the way he does is fantastic! Taking advantage of his creativity, observative skills and mechanical knowledge on skateboarding, he faces up against the main boss and manages to not only endure his violent ways (which were gruelling to see, TBH), but also SOUNDLY HUMILIATE HIM in front of the whole S Community!

Yes, Adam, the "God of S", in the ground covered in mud by a boy almost everyone dissmissed! It was really sunshine through rainfall! I must also add how much I liked to see his renewed relationship with Langa, how much they treasure their company after patching up. I want to elaborate on this in its own post but I personally see that their interactions from this point on are more, I don't know, tender, caring, still playful but not in an entirely comedic way. The way they see each other is also deeper, anyway, it's just what I see.

NUMBER 3 - A DRAW: Episode 8 - The Fated Tournament! and Episode 9 - We Were Special Back Then (A.K.A. The month in which I was in an emotional crisis because of anime sk8t3r b0is 🍎🐍😭🛹❄🍵🌸 )

This is the point in which I got into the show, and the fandom (Yeah, haven't been around for too long). At this point the show wasn't the same, and I realized it when I caught up. Though there were some cool skating scenes in these episodes, the events that caught my attention were outside the road (Yeah, this was no longer just a skateboard anime, it's a whole lot more). Though I had been mainly focusing on Reki and Langa, I really liked having more backstory related to Joe, Cherry, Adam and Tadashi. Seeing how Adam went through a terrible childhood, convoluted teeange years to culminate in an adult with too much power for his own good and a twisted sense of "love", along with some extremely serious psychological issues was very interesting.

I acknowldge him as a complex villain, but that DOES NOT justify what he did to Cherry. This only proves that just because we know his backstory, we don't have to sympathize with him (Adam's just such a terrible person). On the RENGA side, we see Reki avoiding Langa after their rift, and how this affected both. We have Langa's sadness increase scene after scene, as well as his passion for skating dwindling as progressively. Reki on the other hand, just falls deeper and deeper in his depression, but also being unable to stop thinking about Langa, and he ends up going to S to see the latter's match against Joe. It's hard to see whether there's envy, jelaousness, frustration, admiration, pining or fear of being left behind in his mind. It must have been hard for a 17 y/o.

Reki also defends Langa from people speaking behind his back and shouting his name during the race boosts Langa's performance tremendously. This culminates on Reki realizing that the thing he actually wanted was to skate alongside Langa, not on the side, not as support, but together, he just couldn't. There's also the scene which may or may not confirm that Langa's feelings for Reki are more than just friendship! (Felt represented, for reals).

NUMBER 2 - Episode 7 - We Don't Balance Out (A.K.A. This was supposed to be a fun show!😭⛈️💔️)

I wrote a lot about the episodes in the previous spot, but this is the one that flipped the tables, the game-changer, and the one that hit closer home. It is a sad episode, no races there, it's just here for us to see how the circumstances affect the characters. It was hard to see how Reki, who at this point had been nothing but supportive and proud of Langa, starts to see him flying farther from him. Is it jealousness? Dissatisfaction? Is it fear of loneliness? Adbandoment issues? Is it feeling inferior? Frustration? Not being able to improve? Admiration? Care?

And on top of that a broken promise. I just can't imagine how hard is it for a 17 y/o to deal with all of those conflicting issues in his head, as well as the toxic competitive environment on the "S Community". This just came to show that he wasn't just the excitable, goofy sidekick character, he goes deeper than that, and makes him relatable. We also see a deconstruction of the cool, aloof prodigious character in Langa, as he just can't comprehend what's going on with Reki, and he's hurt by it, but still needs to figure out his own ambitions and desries. This leads to the emotional conclusion of the episode (which in turn left me in the aforementioned 4-week-long emotional crisis, thank you)

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Episode 12 - Our Infinity! - The race was cool, the Renga hug gave me life and everyone had a happy ending

Episode 5 - Passionate Dancing Night! - Despite the beef between Langa and Adam being cool, we start to see Reki worrying about Langa and opening up to him, further deepening their bond.

Episode 2 - Awesome for the First Time! - There's just something special about sharing something you're passionate about with someone else. Watching Reki teaching Langa the basics of skateboarding was heartwarming

NUMBER 1 - Episode 10 - DAP Not Needing Words

After 4 weeks waiting, the anticipation for this episode was gargantuan. Reki's depression was hitting its lowest point, bordering in self-harm, and hurting others as well. Langa continues to look for Reki after seeing him briefly at the hospital while visiting Shadow and we get to see this loving scene where he watches videos of Reki learining how to skate. After confronting Tadashi and realizing that he loves skating because it's fun, he returns home to find out that Langa had been waiting for him but left shortly before he arrived.

This leads to a heartful reunion, where words can't express their feelings, so they resort to do their thing, to skate, and that's where the feelings flow. This is when Langa tells Reki how he admires him tremendously and Reki understands that Langa'll be there by his side, and leaves his fears behind. With a mutual desire to skate together infinetely and a new dap, they rekindle their bond. People watched this show for different reasons, and though I like the skateboarding aspect because it looks cool, my interest leans more on the relationship aspect, and Reki and Langa's is so deep and intimate, and I liked seeing it grow from zero through different hardships (in other words, in all of the years I've been in a fandom, I had never shipped any other pair like these two, I needed to say that).

So I guess it's time to tag some people:

@pico-sour, @sleebycryptid, @elizabethslee, @itsamole, @kaorucherry, @blueflame97, @trieizieme, @tardiskitten, @lady-pendragon-9

So, if you've read until this point, thank you very much (I know it's not supposed to, but this post is yet again a very long "I love Renga" one, but it's what my heart wanted me to write 😅). I'd love to see people other than the ones I tagged showing their lists 😃

[get-lost-in-fanfiction]

if you still do requests for ben-centric stuff, could you do reader/oc time travels and meets baby ben in the 70s? or something similar >//> thank you! -❄️

Second Meeting - Oneshot

Paring: Ben Linus x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

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There’s something to be said about how quickly three years can go by. You can still remember how bad your headache was during the flashes. You still remember clinging tightly to Ben’s shirt before he descended into the Orchid. You didn’t know what was going to happen or if you were ever going to see him again. But the last 3 years have been a blur, full of everything DHARMA Initiative, and yet he still hasn’t left your mind.

You miss Ben terribly. Despite the many date offers by the Initiative members, you never allowed yourself to go on any of them. Juliet had tried to encourage you to go on some, even set them up for you. She knew it was pointless, and that even after three years you still held strong feelings for her old leader.

When Jack, Kate, and Hurley showed up you felt a shred of hope. You went with James to meet them, heart full of joy. It all sank when Kate never mentioned Ben at all, and you were too afraid to ask if he had come along. You were even more shocked to learn Locke had died, and were desperate to know how. You didn’t want to push it though, and your heart and brain was so full of shock you could barely get a sentence out.

You rode in silence with James back to the Barracks. You both had a silence agreement to not ask each other how you felt. That was how your friendship worked, and that’s how it always worked. From day one to now, it’s a silence agreement that neither of you two are okay but you won’t press for information.

You two are back at James and Juliet's house, rummaging through his wardrobe, grabbing shirts from hangers quickly. Juliet enters and you don’t hear her until she speaks.

“Hey,” She says and you look up while James keeps looking.

“You seen my baggy sweatshirt, the one with the bulldog on it?” He asks, still frantically pulling clothes together. You just stand there, looking at the shirt in your hands.

“It's in the laundry. James... what's going on?” Juliet asks, and James finally turns around. He gives a pained look to you, and you know exactly why.

“They're back,” You half whisper, and Juliet looks between the both of you in disbelief.

“I'm sorry. Who's back?” She asks.

“Jack, Hurley, Kate,” James replies, and Juliet has so many emotions on her face it’s hard for you to decode them all.

You tune out the conversation. Juliet’s expression did something to you. It shoved some sharp in between the cracks that were already there and threatened to shatter you. You were shaken from your thoughts as James drops the bag of clothes and sits on the bed beside Juliet. You realize you’ve been standing still for a while now and drop down beside him.

James sighs, “I don’t understand it any more than you do. But they're here, and I gotta find a way to bring 'em in before somebody else finds 'em and they screw up everything we got here.”

That's when it hits you, “There's a sub coming in this afternoon,” you say with your voice raised slightly and a sliver of hope comes back.

The next hours are a blur of trying to get Jack, Kate, and Hurley into the Initiative without raising any red flags. You think it seems to go smoothly enough, but nothing is ever simple. Especially not when Jack, Kate, and James are back involved with one another again. You watch Juliet very carefully throughout the day, and her expressions. You realize as you watch, that life as you know it has come to an end. God, planes do so much emotional damage.

When you get word there’s someone out in the jungle, some part of you screams that it’s Ben. They’ve taken him as a Hostile, which is not good. Your mind is already spinning with ideas on how to get him out. But then James gets word on his walkie that it’s Sayid, and your heart deflates. You’re not upset that Sayid is here, you just desperately wished it was Ben. So you volunteer to ride out with James to the Flame to see what’s going on.

Just as you expected, James turns you down. He says you need to keep an eye on Jack, Kate, and Hurley and he says he’ll take care of Sayid. You find yourself nodding, feeling numb. There was no one else with Sayid. You can almost feel hope draining out of your body and onto the grass beneath your feet.

You stand next to Phil in silence through the whole Orientation and picture taking. Everything seems like a blur and you’re not really present in your own head. Stuck in 1977 without the man you love.

“Okay,” Phil says and he claps his hands, shaking your from your thoughts, “Right on. So you guys have the rest of the day to get acquainted with your security protocol handbooks waitin' in your new digs. Now some of it may seem a little scary, but I promise you all, we are perfectly safe here, okay? So make yourselves at home. Come on. We got hamburgers. We got punch.”

Phil’s walkie goes off and you hear James’s voice through the other end “You there, Phil? We're coming in with a 14-J.”

“Roger that, Mr. LaFleur,” Phil’s replies and turns to you. He nods and you nod back, preparing to see your friend again

A DHARMA van stops and Phil speaks up again, “Okay, if I could get everyone to hold back, please, we have a minor security situation.”

James, Jin and Radzinsky step out with Sayid. You watch them all, and you and Sayid make eye contact. You’re surprised to see his eyes widen slightly at the sight of you. You don’t nod or make any acknowledgement that you know him, Phil is too close.

“Move,” Radzinsky says and you can’t help but flinch as they march him away.

“I guess we found Sayid,” You can hear Hurley say and you privately think that this is going to end up being a horrible shit show.

You follow the group despite Phil’s protests as you tag along while they march Sayid down the stairs of the security office and into a prison cell.

“All right, you can hang out here until we can figure out what the hell to do with you,” James says to Sayid and you have to remind yourself his tone is just for appearances sake. You don’t understand why you’re so sensitive

“What are we gonna do with him?” Phil asks James, giving you a sidelong glance. You and Phil have never gotten along. He didn’t like a woman working on the security team, but James insisted.

James sighs deeply before answering, “Bring the man some damn food. We're not savages.” James turns and locks the cell and gives Sayid a glance before walking away.

You want to stay and talk to Sayid. You want to ask him about Ben. Is he still on the mainland in 2007? Is he alive? Did he come with them on the plane? You’re torn and want to stand up for yourself, but Phil tells you to “come along” with a firm grip on your elbow and to have to comply. You give Sayid a tortured look behind Phil’s back and Sayid responds with a sad look and a bowed head.

You win by getting Phil to allow you to watch the security cameras. He sits at his desk, pretending to do work, but you know he's watching you. You sit in one of the chairs facing the screens and just start at Sayid feeling forlorn.

You hear the door open but don't bother to look up. You've been sulking this whole time feeling sorry for yourself. Your ears perk up when you hear a young boy’s voice

“Hey, Phil,” the boy says and you turn around, “I'm just gonna go in there and deliver him a sandwich.”

“All right”, Phil replies, nodding at you to keep an eye out. Your eyes widen as you watch the boy. He looks at you and your eyes lock.

Your heart explodes in familiarity at his eyes and you're in disbelief. The boy turns and walks away, obviously oblivious to what just happened with you. You scramble to your feet despite Phil’s protests and tag along with the boy.

You two enter the cell room. Sayid looks between you and the boy. The boy doesn’t seem to notice

“Hello. I brought you a sandwich,” the boy says and holds a bag through the bars, “I didn't put mustard on it, but if you'd like some, I could get some.”

“This will be fine. Thank you,” Sayid replies. The paper bag crinkles and your throat is dry. The boy looks up at you and you smile apprehensively at him. It’s meant to be reassuring but you don’t think it comes off that way.

“Are you a Hostile?” The boy whispers, looking at you with a terrified expression. You’re unable to say anything.

“Do you think I am?” Sayid shoots back, flicking his eyes over to you every few seconds.

“What's your name?” The boy replies, and it’s a game of questions. You squat down next to the boy, ready to pull him away if Sayid gives away too much information.

“Sayid. What's yours?”

“I'm Ben.”

Suddenly your ears are ringing. You almost fall over but catch yourself on the wall. Sayid is looking at you funny, seemingly shocked as well but more shocked at your reaction.

“It's nice to meet you, Ben,” Sayid replies with his eyes on you.

It’s Ben. It’s young Ben. You had no idea he was with the Initiative. Was he the one who started the Purge? ‘Oh my god’ you think. Young Ben leaves, giving you a weird look. He doesn’t recognize you, but how could he? Time is so fucked up, and you’re not even sure if this is the same Ben that you fell in love with. Will they grow up to be the same?

You press your back up against the nearest wall and slide down onto the floor. Your heart is pounding a bruise into your ribcage and you're lightheaded. Sayid looks at you, seemingly nervous to speak. You wouldn’t know what to say to him anyway. You're feeling way too many things at once to even be able to think about anything but oxygen to your deprived lungs.

Eventually, Phil comes storming in, pulling your shocked form off the floor, and sending you home. It's dark and chilly outside. All the lights of the houses are out except for James and Juliet’s. You don't go see them, you have to go home and process this whole day.

You make it home, barely flicking on a lamp before collapsing into bed in your jumpsuit. You manage to kick off your shoes and shimmy under your bed blankets. Maybe you don't have your Ben back, but at least you have a Ben.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged for oneshots!

[cal-kestis]

If I Could Never Give You Peace

(Javier Peña x Female Reader)

Gif by @pedropcl​ [original gifset]

Summary: Two years after resigning from the DEA, Javi finds himself in Los Angeles, haunted by glares of gunshots and blood-stained hands. He’d succumbed to the idea that he’d never have peace — doesn’t deserve it after everything he did in Colombia. Then, she moves in next door and maybe, he thinks, things could be different. “I hope this doesn’t scare you,” she whispers, her fingers still tracing shapes over his head. “But I care about you, Javi, a lot. I think I could fall in love with you someday...” She exhales, a quiet, shaky sound. “I think I’ve already started.” Word Count: 4,357 A/N: A Reader-insert one-shot with a nameless female reader. No “Y/N” or "you," but the reader can be anyone. Inspired heavily by Taylor Swift’s “Peace.” How many TS references can you find? Lol. Tags: Fluff, Angst (with a happy ending), Mentions of death (but no one dies, I promise), Alcohol, Cigarettes

[Read on AO3]

The rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me... All these people think love’s for show, but I would die for you in secret... Would it be enough, if I could never give you peace? — Taylor Swift, Peace —

When Javier Peña handed in his DEA badge and gun two years ago, he knew he couldn’t stay in Texas. Not forever.

Texas held too many familiar faces, old friends calling him a hero when he felt like a villain. It held too many ties to an old version of himself he’d rather not remember… muddied images of him with a beautiful woman, an abandoned altar, and a shattered promise. No, he couldn’t stay. Not even for his father.

So, Javier Peña and the unwelcomed overcast of his nightmares found a one-bedroom apartment in sunny Los Angeles.

In time, he realized he needed the city: constant motion, endless traffic, and hoards of busy people who would never remember his face. He could blend in. He could be alone.

He could have a clean slate.

But each night, glares of gunshots flashed behind his eyelids and invisible bloodstains marred his calloused palms as if to remind him:

He could never have peace.

Then, she moved in next door.

The first time he saw her, he only caught a glimpse. She and her boyfriend, he assumed, held towering stacks of brown boxes in front of their faces — sweating as they lugged the dusty weight into the empty space.

For a moment, he considered offering some neighborly help but decided against it — When have you ever cared about being a good neighbor, Javi? — closing himself in his quiet apartment with a glass of whiskey.

The second time he saw her, she came knocking on his door the next night.

“Hi, neighbor,” she smiled brilliantly. And for a split second, he swore he felt something foreign flutter in his stomach, but dismissed it as the after-effects of spoiled dinner. “I just moved in next door and wanted to introduce myself.”

He could not take his eyes off her. His gaze stayed glued to a small bead of sweat trailing a slow path down from her hairline, where she’d pulled it back with a makeshift scarf-headband. The droplet slipped down her cheekbone, over a smudge of dust that had settled in from her moving boxes. It drifted down the curve of her jaw, dipping into the slope of her neck until finally hiding away below her tank top. And by some miracle, she only needed to repeat her name for him once before he came out of the trance.

“Sorry.” He gulped, removing the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Javier.”

He extended his hand and she met him halfway. Soft. So soft.

“Good to meet you, Javier.” She smiled again. Flutter. “I’m sure you’re busy. Just wanted to say hi. I’ll see you around.”

And just like that, she swiftly turned on her heel to walk the few steps back to her door, bare feet strutting off, flaunting her daisy dukes, and — God help him, he’s a man and she’s beautiful — he stared.

The nail in the coffin?

When she opened her door and gave him one last smile over her shoulder, she winked.

No, he could never have peace.

—

After that, he hardly ever sees her.

Part of him feels relieved, unduly wary of the strange flutter he’d feel just thinking of her name. The other part, the traitorously curious part, dreams of catching another glimpse of her glistening skin or a quarter note of her honeyed voice. He’ll never admit it out loud, but he finds himself often wondering if her boyfriend gets to enjoy her sun rays and melodies. Lucky bastard.

He blames his roaming thoughts on the fact that it’s… been a while.

This is what you wanted, he’d remind himself when he’d wake to an empty bed — a stark contrast to his time in Colombia. This is the way things should be.

Just when he starts to believe those words, he finds her crumpled on the floor in front of her apartment — the contents of her purse strewn across the hardwood beside her, palms pressed firmly against her eyes. One tiny sniffle and a tremble of her shoulders, and he melts into a puddle beneath her muddy sneakers.

“Hey,” he whispers tentatively, voice raspy with cigarette smoke.

She jolts at the sound, immediately wiping her face with her sleeves and plastering on a saccharine smile.

“Javier,” she tries to say, but her voice breaks on the vowels. “Sorry, I was just— rough day. And to top it off, I think I left my keys inside. I tried Jerry but no luck.”

“Jerry’s a shit landlord,” he sighs, earning a nod from her. He takes out an old, faded receipt from his pocket and kneels in front of her, finding a pen amongst her spilled belongings. “Try this number. He’s usually fast. Can get you back in your apartment tonight.”

He hands her the scribbled receipt and she takes it with a real smile, albeit small. “Thank you, Javier.”

He nods, a tiny dimple forming in one tanned cheek, before getting up to unlock his apartment. The door clicks but he stands there for a moment longer, listening to her waning sniffles as she throws her things back into her bag. His eyes screw shut tightly, a silent war waging behind his forehead, his fingertips feebly trying to rub it away.

He sighs long and heavy when he realizes which part of him has won.

“Would you... like to come inside my place while you wait?” He mutters, mainly to the floorboards. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

“Okay.” Her smile is warm like the sun, despite the cloud of tears still glazed over her eyes. “But you don’t strike me as a cream and sugar kind of guy.”

“No,” he admits with an amused smirk. “But I’ve got some old whiskey, older milk, and a phone you can use, toll-free.”

“Thanks, Javier,” she sniffles. “Coffee sounds nice. But hold the booze and tainted milk.”

And that’s how she ends up in his apartment, sitting at his small dining table, slowly sipping from his coffee mug, using his landline to call the locksmith.

Maybe it’s the caffeine or the three (stolen) pink packets of sugar she found in her purse (“It’s not stealing. Diners offer dozens of them in cute little boxes, I mean practically gift-wrapped, and I modestly accepted three.”), but coffee gets her talking the way alcohol coaxes even the darkest secrets from iron-barred lips. She just broke up with her boyfriend. Or he broke up with her — found some younger, hotter-than-her aspiring actress in Hollywood and left her in the dust of the boxes she’d just unpacked.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “You’ve been so nice. Really, Neighbor of the Year,” she laughs, but he thinks it sounds off. He wants to hear the real thing. “And here I am, taking up your space, drinking your coffee, and dumping all my problems on the table. Tell me if I’m talking too much, Javier. I tend to—”

“Javi,” he says, furrowing his brows as if mildly stunned by the two syllables he just spoke. She looks confused. “You can... call me Javi, for short. And I don’t mind listening.”

“Javi,” she tests the name on her tongue, smiles. His stomach flutters. “A good name for a good guy.”

The argument dies on his tongue the minute he thinks it, even though she’s horribly, terribly wrong.

Sometimes you gotta do bad things to catch bad people.

If she knew...

“I should be out of your hair in 20 minutes anyway,” she says, breaking him out of his dark reverie. “Locksmith’s on his way.”

When she finally gets back into her own apartment, Javi jostles her doorknob, double-checks the lock, and knocks on wood for good measure.

“Find your keys?”

“Got ‘em!” She chirps, jingling her lost keys. “I’m gonna have to memorize that number.”

“I’m next door, too, if you ever need anything.”

“Me too. I can lend you some sugar for your sad-man, bitter coffee,” she jokes. “Thanks again, Javi.”

He sends her a tight-lipped smile and a short nod, a familiar weight settling in his chest as he turns back to his lonely apartment.

“Would you like to come in for dinner?” She asks, quiet and suddenly timid. “I’m no chef, but I’ve never made a spaghetti I couldn’t tolerate.”

He opens his mouth to refuse but she beats him to the punch. “It’s the least I can do after you helped me out. Please?”

And it’s the way she asks that gets him. The way “please” seems to fall from her lips like an unanswered prayer. He wonders, maybe she’s just as lonely as him.

So, he walks into her apartment, she smiles, and his stomach flips.

—

Months pass by with this new routine. He joins her for dinner at least once a week, if their schedules allow. If not at the local diner where she infamously loots sugar, it’s usually at her place. For one thing, although it’s usually pasta, she tends to have more appetizing (read: edible) groceries stocked up than him. But if he’s being honest, something about her apartment just feels more like… a home.

Framed smiles of her and her loved ones line the walls. With each visit, he finds himself studying a new one, imagining the story behind each snapshot. (He noticed after their first dinner, she’d thrown out the photos of her ex, replacing them with Polaroids of the city.) Piles of pillows stack up neatly on her couch, vibrant hues and patterns decorating the space. He adores the soft waves of music always floating around her space. She plays a different record each time, but somehow, each one compliments the sweet tones of her voice perfectly.

Her place feels brighter than his too, and he’s not sure if it’s the east-facing windows or if it’s just her.

Soon, he doesn’t need to decode the photos on the walls anymore. She tells him more than she’s told anyone before — about her hometown, her family, what she studied in college, her travels, her favorite books, her irrational fears, her dreams.

He tells her considerably less, especially when it comes to his time in Colombia.

For now, she doesn’t mind. She likes the way he watches her when she talks — brown eyes soft and warm, brows pinched together as he takes in each word, the ghost of a grin tugging at one corner of his lips when she gestures dramatically.

He realizes, one night after dinner, he comes home smiling now. And he thinks the nightmares have started dwindling, ever since that first dinner.

Maybe, he lets himself imagine. Things could be different.

—

He calls for you over and over, shouting until his throat burns and the echo of his frantic voice pounds in his ears.  

“Where are you?” He screams.  

The narrow hallway is dark, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. He crushes his body into the hard wall, arms sliding roughly against cold brick as he tries to keep himself concealed. The gun in his hand feels icy and impossibly heavy, and his arms tremble as they lift the weapon higher, rounding the corner.

“Llegas tarde, Peña,” a deep, gravelly voice sneers. “You’re too late.”

“Tómame!” Javier yells. “Tómame en su lugar.”

“You would die for her?” The voice chuckles. “Llegas tarde.”

The voice’s shadow moves, revealing a smaller shadow crumpled on the floor — lifeless.

“Javier! Javier!” A distant voice chants, accusing him. Boom! Blaming him. Boom!

“Javier!” Boom!

The pounding sound wakes him up with a jolt, and his sweat-slicked chest rapidly rises and falls as he reaches for the gun inside his bedside table.

Slowly, Javier creeps to the front door where the loud pounding started. But when he peers into the peephole, he only finds her — looking as tired and distressed as he feels. A wave of relief floods through his overheated body.

She’s wrapped up in a blanket, a worried look wrinkling her forehead.

He puts his gun down in a drawer and lets her in.

“What time is it?” He asks.

“Almost 4 in the morning.”

“What’s wrong?” He demands, suddenly worried about why she’d be waking him this early.

“You tell me,” she says, frown lines still etched by her eyes — mirroring his own tired marks. “I heard you yelling. I was worried, Javi.”

“It was...” he starts, squinting as the images flash in his mind again. “Just a dream.”

It only takes one glance into his eyes for her to reach out to him, pulling him in by his neck until he nuzzles into hers.

He breathes her in, holds her like he’s not sure she’s real, like she might be gone tomorrow. “It was just a dream,” he echoes, but he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince.

“It was just a dream,” she repeats after him.

She pulls him by his hand toward his couch, sitting down before patting the space beside her. And just this once, he allows himself to let his head rest in her lap, lets her drape her fuzzy blanket over him, lets her soft fingers draw slow circles in his hair, lets her lull him to sleep with mumbled whispers he can’t quite make out, and lets her ward off the lurking darkness like a nightlight.

He’s asleep before he can hear the quiet secret that spills from her lips.

“I hope this doesn’t scare you,” she whispers, her fingers still tracing shapes over his head. “But I care about you, Javi, a lot. I think I could fall in love with you someday...” She exhales, a quiet, shaky sound. “I think I’ve already started.”

She comes over to his apartment more frequently after that. Whether to bring him dinner or just sit on his couch in comfortable silence, she doesn’t like to leave him alone.

And maybe, she’d rather not be alone either.

—

He doesn’t remember how she convinced him, but here he is... sitting at a crowded bar drinking water, watching his tipsy neighbor bouncing alone on the small dance floor.

Every so often, some cocky drunk comes up to put his hands on her waist and tries to dance with her, but she plasters on a faux smile and shakes her head at them, muttering something while nodding in Javier’s direction. Each time, they sulk away and he chuckles.

Finally, she bounces over to him, tugging at the sleeve of his leather jacket.

“Dance with me, Javi. Please,” she draws out the word, an octave higher than normal.

And despite himself, he follows her voice like a sailor enthralled by a siren’s song.

She puts her arms around his neck, swaying her body against his. And then she shouts over the music, “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

And the heart on his sleeve falls straight to the floor, clanging loudly in his ears like metal.

‘Friends’ is more than you deserve, he reminds himself.

But then she continues, resting her head against his chest, her index finger coming up to tap a tantalizingly slow beat over his collarbone. “Good friends,” she sighs, lifting her gaze until her chin digs into his heart, her lips just inches from his. “Really… good… friends.”

She’s kissing him before he can even process the feeling. And despite his better judgment, he lets her. She’s everything warm and soft and good, with just a hint of alcohol — and he’s what you get when you turn those words upside down, jumble the letters, and crumple the paper into a jagged ball. But he craves the way her curves somehow fit perfectly against his cold, shattered edges. And he knows he shouldn’t.

So, when he feels her tongue trace along the seam of his mouth, he gently pulls away, hands rubbing soothing circles on her shoulders.

“You’ve had too much to drink, cariño,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

“Okay,” she whispers, smiling with half-lidded eyes, drawing her finger across his mustache then below his ever-pouting lip.

She’s passed out in his car by the time they’re back home. When he unlocks her apartment door for her, she stays latched onto his arm as he turns to leave.

“Stay,” she whispers.

“I—”

“Please?” She asks, in that way he knows he can’t fight. “I don’t want to be alone.”

And just like that, the door closes behind him and he stays.

He finds her an oversized shirt to change into, helps her wipe the smudged mascara off her face, and holds her until the sun rises.

When she wakes, the space beside her is empty but warm and indented, the shape of his body lingering in the sheets. A full glass of water, ibuprofen, and the phantom taste of Javi’s lips are the only other traces of her really… good... friend.

—

He’s not avoiding her… per se. But it’s a long, lonely week later when he sees her again, on an uncharacteristically rainy Sunday outside their apartment building.

“I just got home,” she blurts after standing there dumbfounded for a good minute. She nods to the soaked brown paper bags in her arms. “Groceries. Uh, obviously. Were you...?”

“Forgot my umbrella,” he answers.

“Same,” she chuckles awkwardly, droplets hanging on her lashes and the ends of her hair, only partially covered by her hood. “Obviously.”

“Here, let me help you.” He takes the bags from her, keeping the door open with his foot as he waits for her to head inside.

“Thanks, Javi-er.”

He follows her upstairs silently, his wet, squeaking shoes punctuating each slow and heavy step.

“I can—”

“Let me just—”

They fumble and dance around each other in her doorway as he sets her bags in her apartment. And, as if to torture herself, she decides to stand under her door frame when he leaves to grab his umbrella, waiting the longest minute of her life for him with a forced smile.

He waves his umbrella at her after locking his door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.”

He nods and walks back down the stairs.

“Javier, wait.”

He pauses, his back still facing her, drenched shoes balanced on two different steps.

“Can we talk?” She hates the way her voice sounds when she asks, tinny and trembling. Clearing her throat, she clarifies, “About what happened... at the bar?”

He sighs, screwing his eyes shut tight and rubbing his forehead.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he says, low and barely audible as the rain starts picking up outside. And he walks away.

She’s stunned still, watching as his figure shrinks with each step he takes away from her. He’s already out of the building by the time frustration fuels her feet to follow him into the rain.

“Like hell there’s nothing to talk about,” she yells over the downpour, hair quickly sticking flat to her face. “Javi, we kissed!”

“You were drunk,” he says, just loud enough for her to hear, still walking.

“I wasn’t drunk,” she argues to his back, remembering with perfect clarity exactly how his lips felt on hers. “Just a bit braver. Javi, stop! Look at me. Please.”

And like clockwork, he turns slowly but doesn’t move any closer.

So, she closes the distance to stand beside him under his umbrella, taking in his features without the obscurity of rain.

“What are you running from?” She wonders, reaching for his fidgeting hand. “I would never hurt you. I—”

The line between his brows looks deeper than usual, as if they’d been stuck in that pinched position for weeks. Shadows lay in rings beneath his eyes, accompanied by smaller lines that carry untold stories she hopes he’ll entrust her with someday. His mouth is parted just slightly, as if to say something he knows could change everything.

And it does.

“I have to go.”

Her hands are empty and wet when he leaves. And the rain buries his parting words into the pavement.

I don’t want to hurt you.

—

She doesn’t hear from him for two weeks. Doesn’t even catch a glimpse of him.

The rain sticks around longer than usual for Los Angeles, making her apartment feel cold and gloomy. But maybe, it’s just missing him as much as she is.

Then, while she’s folding her laundry one night, she hears his door rattle and practically bolts to her own. He’s there. Keys in hand, rolling luggage in the other, hair tousled like he’s been pulling at it with his fingers. He looks at her when she opens her door, just for a beat too long, before hiding away in his apartment.

She sighs, closing her door in defeat.

But just as she starts getting ready for bed, she hears two knocks at her door, heart beating rapidly as she slowly makes her way to open it.

“Hi, neighbor,” he greets her softly, and the sound of his voice after so long without it nearly brings her to tears.

“Where did you go?” She asks. But she really means, Why did you leave?

“Texas,” he says. “I... needed to see my dad.” But he really means, I was scared.

“Oh.”

“Can I...” he mutters. “Can I come in please?”

She hesitates for only a second before stepping aside and he looks around like he hasn’t seen the inside of her apartment hundreds of times already.

He stops near her bedroom, where a new picture hangs proudly: a goofy, blurry photo of him stashing three pink packets of sugar in his shirt pocket.

“It’s the only photo you’ve let me take of you,” she says quietly, standing next to him with a wistful smile on her face. “I miss our diner dates.” But she really means, I miss you.

He doesn’t respond, just silently walks to her couch and sits, fingers rubbing circles into his forehead.

Minutes roll by slowly as she watches him from the other side of the room, battling with some invisible hand covering his mouth, holding on until the end to keep the words locked up.

“I’m not a good man,” he whispers, so softly she almost doesn’t hear it. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of... back in Colombia. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to tell you. I think a part of me is still there, fighting some unwinnable war. Hell, even before Colombia, I—”

Muddied images of a beautiful woman, an abandoned altar, and a shattered promise flash in his mind.

“Fuck. I can’t shake it,” he says, looking up at her with red-rimmed eyes, waving the invisible iron shackles on his wrists to show her. “Any of it. The nightmares...” He recalls her shadowy body and a dark, menacing voice. “They’ve followed me for years. I—” he looks at her, eyes darting across her face. “I could never give you peace.”

His head hangs low and a wayward curl brushes against his forehead. Despite how much space he takes up on her couch, he looks so small, defeated —  the weight of his past crushing him into this tiny, torn, crumpled-up piece of paper covered in red-inked, scratched-out sentences.

“Javi,” she whispers, but he doesn’t meet her eyes. So, she crosses the room and kneels in front of him, her palms reaching for his cheeks and lifting his gaze to hers. “Javi, who said anything about peace?”

The wrinkles deepen between his brows as he studies her, tries to understand what she means in the cloudy orbs of her eyes.

“The past is the past. We’ve all done things we can’t speak of. And sometimes at night, we live it all again. God knows I’m far from perfect. But I know you’re a good man, Javi. I see you,” she tells him, stroking the curves of his cheekbones with her thumbs.

“I’m not—”

“Do you trust me?” She interrupts his argument. He stares at her, blinks, before nodding once.

“Then trust what I’m saying. You’re not perfect. But you’re good.”

His eyes close as soon as she sees water beginning to pool behind his lashes.

“I’m not asking for peace. As long as I get to be with you, it would be enough.”

And then his lips are crashing into hers, pulling her into his lap until he’s covered in her. The sound he makes when they touch is devastatingly beautiful, like she’s a balm soothing his freshest wounds and healing his oldest scars. It feels like his entire body has exhaled — lungs deflated, bones liquified, mind released from a decades-old straitjacket. If not for gravity, he could float from the way his stomach is fluttering. His shoulders lower and he sighs as if he’d been holding his breath for his entire life until this moment.

He’s drowning in her, submerged to the top of his head. But he can finally breathe.

“I’m sorry I ran,” he whispers into her skin. “I’m sorry I left, cariño,” he kisses just below her ear. “My dad said I was the biggest asshole on the planet for leaving. I’m sorry, baby. So sorry,” he licks the seam of her lips.

“Mi alma, you have no idea,” he sighs when she parts her lips for him. “How much I love you.”

And she captures the words on her tongue, kissing him with a ferocity that says, Yes, I do.

“Want to know a secret?” She gasps when his lips trail down her neck. Her voice is barely a whisper, as feather-light as her fingertip skating across his shoulder.

He hums, a soft, lazy smile stretching his lips wide, so wide.

“I don’t think it’s possible,” she says, staring into his deep brown eyes. “That I’ll ever love anyone more than I love you, Javi.”

Her finger stops, retracted to shield herself after such a heavy confession. His eyes blink slowly, head lifting off the couch cushion.

He doesn’t say a word. He only stares at her, the softest smile on his face — his edges blurring into gentle curves in front of her very eyes.

“You’re it for me,” she finalizes.

And then they’re crashing into each other again and again and again.

End Notes: Look, it’s been almost 10 years since I sat in a Spanish class and watching Narcos only restored 3% of my limited vocabulary. Here’s what I got from Google Translate: “Llegas tarde.” = You’re too late. “Tómame!/ Tómame en su lugar.” = Take me!/ Take me instead. “Cariño” = Darling, honey “Mi alma” = My soul P.S. Please let me know if I missed any tags/triggers!

[rodeoxqueen]

DEVIL MAY GRIND

(I)- Can You Touch This? 

Dante/ AMAB! Reader

Series Summary:  From a surprise rendezvous to a male strip club on your birthday to a private dance, you end up seeing eye-to-eye rather than eye-to-groin with a cowboy stripper named Dante Sparda.

Work Summary: A shy and short homebody celebrating your birthday with friends, you end up somewhere you’d never expect: a male strip club. And what you’d also never expect is a certain red-devil/cowboy stripper to lay his special treatment on you.

Tags/Warnings:18+, AMAB! Reader, Stripper!AU, Minors Do Not Try It, Wholesome Filth

Rodeo’s Two-Pieces: And after months, Rodeo presents the male version of this soon-to-be filth. *tilts cowboy hat over eyes and leans in seat*

You were never one for large crowds, alcohol, loud music, and nudity. So what a mess you were in, your friends dragging you into a strip club.

It wasn’t your fault, they promised you were all going for a quiet dinner at your favorite restaurant. No loud noises, no crowds, and especially, you didn’t even know why you had to specify, no naked guys! That’s what happened at first. You went and blew out your candles on your cake at a nice place, but then things got weird. Your friends had got you thoughtful gifts, except one of them who promised to give it to you after another “surprise.”

They practically herded you to their car, blindfolding and ear-muffing you while giggling. After driving in some unfamiliar directions, you were pulled into a strange building.

So when you couldn’t hear your thoughts due to the overbearing bass in the room you were in, you realized you should’ve known better. The blindfold and earmuffs were taken off and you opened your eyes to a neon-lit room with the most hard-cut abs right in your face.

“A strip club?! W-why would you think I’d want to go to a strip club?”

“Okay, first of all (Y/N). It’s a male strip club. Second, come on! I know you want to touch some diamond abs!” One of your friends exclaimed as they threw bills at one very tan and very oiled-up man named Diego. The box from before landed on your lap, and you unwrapped it to find a giant stack of dollar bills.

“Now stuff them bills down some hottie’s pants!”

The orange thong-wearing male with the most defined quads you had ever glanced at winked at your friend and opted to dance on someone else. Clutching your drink, you swallowed thickly as other males who went to the gym every other hour thrust their hips proactively at you.

Your friends had called ahead and bought the lot of you a table to the stage, much to your chagrin.

Luckily, your ability to disappear in a room, with your meek personality and small stature, came in handy in these situations. The tall and buff guys your friends screamed over seemed to prefer the company of the more extroverted and thirsty. While other tables farther from the stage had easy contact with the not-themed strippers, you were all confronted with the stage floor dancers.

“My god, how many themes do these guys dress in?” You squeaked as an entertainer dressed like James Bond (minus the clothes except for the bowtie and gun holster) ground on the stage floor.

“Not enough! Now make it rain, (Y/N).” Another friend demanded as she took another shot.

You made a noise as your hand was forcibly placed onto an eight-pack. You quickly threw a wad of bills at the man and ran off to the bar.

“I gotta go!” You panicked, speed-walking to the bar in your favorite pair of dressy sneakers. Stomach quivering, you put a few bills down and asked for a stronger drink. Maybe you could pass out on the table and your friends would feel bad and take you home.

You sighed as you watched your friends have the time of their lives, although they noted your absence.

“First time?” The bartender asked, sliding your fruity drink to you. You fiddled with the napkin. A woman posed in the corner with the logo “Devil May Cry” to the side of her, all lined in neon pink.

“Oh!... Yeah, it is.” You mumbled shyly. You blushed at his blue-eyed stare. Luckily, he wore a collared white shirt so you could look at him without bleeding out of your nose. He was very handsome, with rugged features and slight facial hair. His stark white hair shined even in the dim lighting.

“Ah, could tell. Watched you get dragged in here.” He chuckled.

“I-I was tricked, first of all!” You exclaimed, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“It’s alright. Your next rounds on me if you stay a lil longer.” He winked, wiping a glass. A few other people came and went, requesting all sorts of raunchy-titled drinks. Despite that, he leaned on the table where you sat, making idle conversation.

“I’m Dante.”

“Nice to meet you, Dante. I’m (Y/N).” You impulsively stuck your hand out to shake and stilled at his strong and warm grip.

He whistled.

“Nice name for a nice man. It’s your birthday right?” You nodded.

“What did you wish for?”

“Peace and quiet.” He laughed at that, gesturing to your friends who screamed and clapped at a dark-skinned stripper who ripped off his pants.

“With those friends?” He chuckled.

“They’re a lot more restrained. This is an exception.” You whined.

The conversation grew longer. You learned that Dante worked here with his twin brother Vergil. He loved pizza and strawberry ice cream, along with nice motorcycles. A total manly man, if you asked yourself.

You found a safe space talking to him since you didn’t have to look at nude guys with your back turned.

You were hoping to talk the night away until a similarly white-haired male with a serious glare rounded the corner.

Swiping back a few stray hairs, the esteemed brother Vergil knocked the smile off his twin’s face.

“You fool! Your shift has been over for some time now.” He snapped. Dante rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, this is old douchebag.” You giggled at his comment, quickly stopping when meeting eyes with the frigid twin.

“Have you been speaking ill of me? I will-” Dante threw a towel at his brother’s face before leaving the bartending station. By leaving, he jumped over the counter.

“Hey, (Y/N), nice talking to you. I’ll see you later.” The white-haired man left to the employee’s room.

“Alright-” You muttered. You’d sit, but Vergil’s cold glare prompted you to leave and rejoin your friends.

“Where were you? Chatting up the bartender?”

“Look at you. Being social in a strip club.” They teased.

After a few more dancers, you couldn’t help but miss the blue-eyed bartender with his quips and casual flirtiness.

Suddenly, the music and lights went off. The crowd stirred. Your friend grabbed your arm.

“Oh boy, they’re gonna need a mop after this.”

“Ew!” You cried out. Your friends sang that one horribly sexual song from the radio. Something about parking a truck in a garage and about wet-

A shirtless DJ grabbed the mic.

“And now, for our next entertainer, we have the Legendary Lady Killer. Hold onto your panties and your wedding rings, you’re all in for the ride of your life.”

The lights were turned back on from back to front. On stage, stood a muscular man with a cowboy hat and shawl. His legs were perfectly framed by black leather chaps and boots. You turned as red as his shawl as you could see his formidable bulge from yards across.

His spurs clinked on the floor as people began to cheer at his physique. Your jaw dropped in shock.

White hair.

“Ladies and gents, I got some questions for y’all.” He drawled, lowering his hat.

“Yes! I’m single!” Someone yelled from the back. He chuckled as others screamed with agreement.

“That’s nice ma’am. But really, I got three questions.” He made his way down the stage, his shadow covering your table.

He palmed his chest and abs, showing white chest hairs and slicked-down muscles.

“Can you touch this?” Everyone screamed for yes. He tutted.

“No, no, no.” He waggled his finger. He spun and exposed his lush tush. He was packing it front and back and you blushed while putting your face in your hands.

His hands groped his butt. Even with his giant hands, he still had more ass to spare.

“Can you touch this?” The screams grew louder. He waggled his finger again, wiggling his butt.

“No, no, no.” The crowd awed. He turned back around, a cocky grin on his face.

“Now,” He pointed to the crowd.

His palms groped the leather that concealed his huge package.

“Can you touch this?” Your friend threw a wad of cash at him, hitting him in the nipple. He stood unflinching.

“No, no, no.” He drew out each word.

“These are my laws.” Putting his hands on his hips, he rocked left to right, clicking his spurs.

“But I see a hell of a lot of lawbreakers here tonight.”

He shifted to walk around the chair placed behind him. He sat on it backward, legs spread to place his groin in the spotlight.

“And I don’t see a cop in sight.” He pointed at the DJ.

“Hit it!” Music blaring, he did his number. And boy, was the DJ right to warn you. Dante practically made sweet love to the chair, flipping his head back.

Hips circling and then pistoning the air, sweat trailed down his pecs.

You ended up throwing a few bills, hoping to avoid eye contact. It failed as he slid to his knees to the edge of the stage and crawled off the ledge onto your table. Like a preying tiger, he made his way over to you.

Thank god you had health insurance, your blood pressure was going off the charts.

Your friends lost their heads, throwing bills and screaming like banshees. But he wasn’t interested in them. His eyes preyed after your own, baby blues on an absolute beast.

“Wanna save a horse and ride a cowboy, handsome?” He purred as he traced your jaw. Your skin jumped as you internally imploded. This was was too sensual and people were watching, for goodness sake!

“(Y/N), if you don’t agree I will cancel your Barnes and Noble membership.” Your friend threatened.

“Come on, spare this outlaw some sugar?” You didn’t have a moment to think. Dante threw his hat on your head and carried you onto the table and to the stage.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” You shrieked.

He ran hot. So hot. Your skin burned at contact with him, pressed up against his chest as he stood you in front of the chair he practically humped.

“Take a seat, sir.” You blushed at his sensual persona, not sure where the kind bartender and the suave cowboy started and ended.

Obediently, you turned the chair around and sat with your ankles crossed. Dante tutted in disapproval.

His hands lingered by your legs.

“May I?” He asked. You shook your head slowly, feeling his callused hands on your thighs. He firmly spread your legs and stood over you on the chair.

As if that wasn’t enough, his arm muscles bulged and twitched as he ripped off his leather chaps. He ripped the chaps. There were no zippers or velcro straps. That was all him!

Your face a hair’s width from his abs, he gently took your hands and traced his pecs with them. He growled and winked at you.

Despite the one-in-a-million situation you were in, you shrank at the many peering eyes of the other women and bar patrons. Your anxiety was seen by Dante, who tilted your head up.

“Hey, it’s alright. Just focus on me. If you’re nervous, just give me a purple nurple or something, alright?” You laughed at his idea of a safe word and nodded.

“Okay, Dante.”

And like that, it was like you pulled a trigger. Dante grinded on your form and explored his peak-conditioned skin with your own hands.

You gasped as he led your hands down his front to his leather shorts. You couldn’t stop looking with widened eyes at his crotch. You had read erotica before, describing the male member in the throes of passion, yet this was the first time you had been this close to anything like those erotic novels.

It was obscene! Why did it seem to get larger? How was he allowed to carry that thing around without a license?!

“Hey, eyes up here.” He teased as you snapped your head up.

“O-oh! Sorry.” You whispered. Your blood had rushed to your head and you had grown deaf to your friends’ yells of validation.

“Grab him by the buns!” One of your friends yelled. Dante turned around to make eye contact with her.

With a grin, he slid your hands to the back. What he didn’t expect was you to squeeze.

“Whoa now, kitty.” He purred. You gave a watery smile.

Suddenly, a water bottle was thrown at his head. With lightning reflexes, he caught it after it bounced off of him.

“Hey! Stage times’ over, you fucking show pony.” A short-haired woman with mismatching eyes called out. Dante scoffed.

“Just givin’ a nice gentleman some lovin’.” He argued.

“No, get off the stage, Dante.”

“Five more minutes?”

“NOW.” He sighed. Getting off of your lap, he kissed your hand that was resting on his thigh. Lord, if you died right now, that’d be fine.

“Glad to have this dance.” He flirted.

“Y-you too.” Taking your hand, he took you for another surprise and swept you off your feet. You squeaked as he handed you to another dancer on the ground. The club-goers cheered as dancers arrived, dressed like businessmen with briefcases.

You were promptly seated, head dizzy from everything that just happened. You watched as he took his leave as if he didn’t just cause you to get feverish from how hot he was. Your friend hugged you.

“Nice work! You were so lucky!” Another friend plucked the hat off your head.

“Ah! He left his hat!” You exclaimed as you took it from her hands.

“A souvenir.”

For the rest of the night, you held onto the hat and traced the red stitching. You never saw Dante for the rest of the night, his brother in charge of the bar service.

Finally, before the last round of dancers, you were tapped on the shoulder. You found yourself staring into much harsher blue eyes.

One of your friends threw money at him, which he growled at.

“I am not an entertainer. Well, not right now.” He explained. He handed you a drink with a napkin on the bottom.

“My buffoon of a brother said to keep the hat. Although, I’m not sure why you would.”

“I-”

“The drink is on the house. Good evening with you all.”

He walked off, and you took your drink. You realized it was the same one you ordered when you got to the bar.

“Hey dude, take a look.” A well-manicured nail pointed to the napkin. You saw in red pen an arrow pointed to the folded corner.

You shakily opened it to reveal a series of numbers and words, along with a card that flitted onto the table.

Tonight was fun, wanna do it again? The card’s for a private dance, just call and ask for Dante Sparda. No crowds, only you and me. No Lady barking up my tree for appreciating beauty either - DS

A little heart with an arrow through its center was scrawled in a corner. You picked up the laminated card and saw it was for a free private dance. Your heart beat out of your chest.

Your friends laughed as you immediately stuck it in your pocket, along with the note. The club closed and you were all ushered out. The night was pitch black when you emerged from the debauchery that was the Devil May Cry strip club.

As your other wasted companions were stuffed into the car, you sat shotgun to the sober and designated driver.

You were silent the car ride home, laying your head against the window. You thought about that white-haired flirt’s remarks and how gentle he was to you.

Waving and embracing your wonderful friends, you left for your apartment with all your gifts. However, the little slips of paper in your pocket weighed the heaviest on your mind.

With your keys in your hand, you climbed up the stairs home.

After closing the door, you slid down the wall and let out a pleased sigh.

“Best birthday ever!” You said to no one in particular. 

[paisley-print]

10:00am : Five More Minutes

About: A morning spent in bed. 

Rating: 18+

Word count: 1696

Characters: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Warnings:  Smut (Oral Fem receiving, fingering, mentions of sexual fantasies) Pregnancy, family drama

Series Master-List

-

Tag List: @sherala007​ (I remembered to tag you this time! Sorry for the mix up! :) ​

Notes: *sigh* a calm before the storm. Enjoy a nice moment.

“Close your eyes”

“How did you -”

Jack cut you off, sighing and shifting closer to you in bed. “Because I can feel you starin’, you’ll do fine.” He flipped onto his stomach, moving a hand up under your t-shirt to place his palm flat on your belly.

Daylight was spilling through the curtains, but you just wanted to stay in bed with him. The soft opening of the bakery was tonight for the members of the city counsel. It was a tradition in the town. You couldn’t tell if the nausea you felt was from the pregnancy or your nerves.

What made it worse was that most of the food there had been made by your staff. They were your recipes, but somehow it still felt like cheating.

“Jack?” You whispered, moving your hand to thread through strands of his coffee-colored hair. He shifted closer and kissed your cheek - his eyes still closed. You took this as a sign to continue, “you’re gonna make it, right?”

His voice was deep and husky from sleep. “Course I already spoke to the boss about it. He said it was fine. I wouldn’t miss this for the world darlin’.”

“Has your family said anything about tomorrow?”

“No, but I’ll ask em’ again.”

“...do you think they like me?”

Jack groaned “we’ve had this talk a million times sugar, of course they like you. They just have a funny way of showin’ it is all.”

You listened to the birds singing from the oak tree outside. Normally you two didn’t stay in bed this long unless it was a weekend, but Jack called in late today. You rubbed his arm idly under the sheets. 

“Have you thought of any names yet?”

“We only found out it was a girl yesterday.”

“I’m watching this show and the main character’s name was Houston…. I thought that was pretty cute.”

He was quick to shoot you down, “no.”

“Why?”

“I refuse to name my daughter after the enemy.”

“Unpack that for me.”

“The Tennessee Titans formerly known as the Houston Oilers have had a rivalry with the Houston Texans since the team was founded in 1999.”

“Jesus Christ Jack Football?”

“If my daughter is gonna be a winner then she’ll need to have a winner’s name.”

You reached over onto the bed stand and unplugged your phone. You opened the web search app and started typing. “It says here that the Tennessee Titans have never one a Superbowl.”

“At least they’ve been there darlin’.”

You scrolled “yeah once twenty years ago. Says they lost to the St Louis Ra-”

He snatched your phone from your hand and placed it under his pillow. “They’ll get em’ this year darlin’ - don’t you worry.”

You snorted with laughter. 

“Just for that her first birthday will be Titans themed.”

You smiled and settled in closer to your husband as the sweet scent of lavender filled your senses. “Do you think she can hear us in there?’

“I dunno.” he raised his voice a little. “Baby girl - if you can hear this, tell your mamma to get her cold feet off my leg.”

You kicked him playfully. “Tell your daddy to stop hogging all the covers and I won’t have to put my feet on his leg.”

“Tell your mamma that I need the blankets as my shield for when she decides to flail about in the night.”

You cackled. “I do not flail about.”

“Uh, trust me darlin’ you do - I gotta be ready at any moment for an elbow coming at my face.”

You giggled “that was one time.”

“It hurt like hell.”

“I was asleep! Besides, I said I was sorry.”

He shuttered dramatically. “You're worse than-” he cleared his throat, saving himself quickly. “Maybe I’ll call out today.”

“You don’t have any more vacation days,” you remind him. 

“They can’t fire me.”

“Why?”

“Cuz’ then they’d have to kill me …..and you.”

Your eyes went wide. You lifted yourself up a little to look at him, only to notice the smile on his face.

“I’m only jokin’ hon. They would torture us both before they killed us.”

You rolled your eyes.  

He snuggled closer to you. “Don’t worry darlin’ I won’t let that happen.”

“Oh, you won’t?” you asked, teasing.

“Nope.” 

“What are you gonna do? Tie em’ up and bore them with football facts?”

He hummed, pretending to be annoyed - but you knew he was only playing.  There was silence for a few moments before he spoke again. “I can still feel you staring-”

“I’m not tired I can’t just fall back asleep-” a gasp escaped your lips as Jack moved his hand from your stomach to brush against your panties. He traced the hemline of the fabric before moving his hand underneath.

His index finger stroked over your center with a feather light touch. You twitched and reached out to halt his hand. “If you're still tired you don’t have to-”

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes but-”

“Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes.”

“So close your eyes and let me do it.”

You nodded and relaxed into the mattress. Jack shifted upwards, so he was holding himself on one arm. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and started to rub tight circles around your clit. 

You flinched uncomfortably; he knew what it meant without you even having to verbalize it. Reading your body was something he had become excellent at these last few years. He had learned your patterns and made a mental note each time something worked and something didn't. 

The sheets ruffled against each other as his body weight moved lower on the bed. You didn’t realize what he was doing until his lips brushed against your upper thigh. 

“I can do you next,” you told him quickly, not wanting to seem selfish. 

He shushed you and hooked his fingers around your panties to pull them off. You lifted your hips and felt the fabric glide down your legs and off your feet. A shiver shot through your spine as his facial hair brushed against the inner part of your leg. He smiled and trailed kisses all the way down to the apex of your thigh, pausing a moment before starting to suck a mark into your soft skin. 

You felt yourself buck already. He laughed at how eager you were and laid a hand flat on your hips, stopping your squirming so he could finish making a little bruise with his mouth. One of his favorite things to do was paint you with a hickey or two.

Especially in places that are visible to others, it served as a reminder to everybody that you were his. He got high off of it. Watching that spark of jealousy cross over peoples faces as soon as you flipped your hair or removed your jacket and unwittingly displayed for them the purple mark that he had kissed into your skin not hours before…..yeah he would never get tired of it.

He loved watching other people lust for you and often found himself wondering just what they were imagining. Was it the way your nipples perked up whenever he ghosted a hand over your chest? Or perhaps the sound of your breathless moans beneath him as he pumped into you and you submitted to him entirely? Sometimes when he was fucking you, he imagined someone watching or listening from outside the door. 

The daydream that came most often was bending you over his desk and work and looking down at you. Your face pressed against a stack of files, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut. In the dream he wouldn't try to silence your cries of pleasure as they echoed through the long corridors. He would make certain that you were heard clearly by every single coworker walking by the office.  It was his dirty little secret that he never planned to confess because it made him feel guilty.

A large hand gripped your leg and nudged it apart, you could feel his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin as he lingered there, teasing you. You whined, grasping a fistful of the sheets in your hand and rolling your head against the pillow. 

You bucked again and thankfully he was merciful this time. He swiped his tongue upwards through your folds slowly, and your hips followed. Your hands released the fabric and found their way to his curls. His hair was mused and knotted from sleep. 

“Fuck, I love you” you sighed.

His fingers spread you apart while his tongue started to swirl gently on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You arched your back and moaned something unintelligible.

Jack loved hearing you sing for him. When he first met you, he had noticed how much you held back. After that, each time he took you, he made it a game to pull as many trembling cries or melodical notes from your lips as he could. It worked too, because god did you sing. 

His beautiful little instrument, carved by the gods themselves. 

He moved his arms around your thighs, keeping them open as you squirmed from pleasure. He kissed you harder, losing himself entirely in the sensation of your wet sex against his lips. The tug on his hair made him smirk and dip his tongue inside of you. Hot waves of pleasure shot straight into your stomach. 

The feeling of absolute bliss made you dizzy. “Jack,” you whimpered, voice cracking a little. 

When you started to lift your hips into his touch, he knew that you were close. 

You always squirmed a little more as you approached the edge. Pulling away and then moving right back,  as if your body couldn’t decide if the pleasure was too much or not enough all at the same time. He withdrew his tongue and pulled you downward on the bed a little, positioning himself over you more. 

“Please,” you begged, needing to feel him again. 

He was quick to respond, clamping his mouth over your clit and flicking quickly with his tongue. The knot in your stomach tightened ever more, and you felt yourself moving your hips against his mouth. 

He urged your legs to open an inch wider and that extra burst of sensation was all you needed to slip over the edge. Your eyebrows knit together and your mouth fell open in pleasure. You didn’t even hear yourself finish, but Jack sure did. 

‘That's it, just like that darlin’,’ he thought triumphantly. He continued to kiss you, your walls fluttering at his touch until your hand came up to bat weakly at his shoulder. A signal for him to stop. He pressed one more kiss to the inside of your thigh before moving back upwards and settling on the pillow again.

He laughed when he saw you laying there, momentarily immobilized from ecstasy. The smirking cowboy snuggled closer to you again, forearm draping over your heaving chest as you tried to catch your breath. 

“Yeah,” you panted “I can do five more minutes.”