#nice to see that places us in s3

[wayward-dreamer]

Say You Love Me

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Secretary!Reader

Word count: 6k

Summary: You and Javi work together and have been secretly dating for months. When he gets a lead on the Cali Cartel and has to leave for several days, a late night phone call has to be the only thing to keep both of you satisfied until he returns.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, swearing, secret relationship, flirting, making out, uniform kink, Javi in the DEA jacket (that's it's own warning), smut: implied p in v sex, dirty talk, phone sex, nipple play, mutual masturbation, Javi jerks it while reader flicks it, hints of Javi's breeding kink, English/Spanish terms of endearment (baby, sweetheart, cariño, hermosa, querida), fluff, Javi's a loverboy he really is, romance. Reader described with female anatomy, no use of y/n. Set during S3, canon divergent.

A/N: This was written for @mushgloomz PPCU Smut Writing Challenge. I got Javi, romantic, uniform and phone/video sex as prompts, so here we go. Title is a song by Fleetwood Mac. Hope y'all enjoy it, happy reading! :) Unbeta'd. Also thanks to @nicolethered for sourcing the Javi pic!

Main Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Characters Masterlist

“We shouldn’t be doing this here…”

“No one’s gonna hear us, cariño.”

Javi pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss, his wandering hands groping the curve of your ass over the black pencil skirt you were wearing. The file room of the department wasn’t an ideal place to be making out with your fellow employee, a place where anyone could walk in, but you had trusted him to lock the door behind him before he had you pinned against the back wall, hidden by shelves of boxes. Your only fear now was that someone heard you, because if there’s one thing you had learnt very quickly, it was that he knew how to make you scream.

“They could,” you mumbled against his lips.

His mouth moved along your jaw, nipping at your skin and drifting down to your neck. “They’re only going to hear us if you-”

A sharp cry escaped your lips as he sucked at your pulse point, his hand coming up over your mouth as he chuckled mischievously against your throat. He pulled back slightly, grinning as he looked down at you and saw you glaring up at him. He pulled his hand away, softly pecking your lips once, twice.

“Sorry,” he smirked. “Couldn’t resist.”

“Fuck you, Peña,” you snapped.

“I’m counting on it, baby.”

He guffawed as you rolled your eyes, but you both knew that you weren’t really angry. You pushed him away gently as you feigned annoyance, just another part of the foreplay between you. Fixing the buttons on your blouse, you kept your gaze on him as you adjusted your clothes to make sure it didn’t look like you were just making out with one of your superiors. The last thing you needed were people talking about the ambassador’s secretary messing around with one of his trusted DEA agents.

“You’re going to be late for the meeting,” you reminded him.

“Am I going to see you there?” he asked, his hands resting on your shoulders.

“I could slip in to drop a fax in front of Crosby, if you wanted me to,” you replied, already contemplating it.

“Wouldn’t mind having something nice to look at,” he added, glancing down at your cleavage with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, playfully. “I’ll see what I can do.”

You cupped his strong jaw in your hand as you admired his features, pushing up on your toes slightly to kiss him once more, before he reluctantly stepped away from you. Your eyes wandered down his frame and took in the salmon pink shirt he was wearing with dark blue jeans, a dreamy sigh escaping you as he turned and you saw the way the denim accentuated his pert ass and thighs. You leaned back against the wall as he gave you one last look, opening the door to the archive room and stepping out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind him. He always left before you wherever you were meeting in secret, you giving him a few minutes headstart before you followed in his footsteps.

It had been a few months since the both of you had started hooking up. It all began with you putting in a good word for him with Crosby when he arrived late to work, the excuse being that he had a flat tire. He told you he owed you one and when you asked him specifically what was in it for you, he took you out for a drink after work. That drink turned into coffee and a cigarette outside the building during your lunch break the next day, and later that night when everyone but you had gone home, it turned into him bending you over your desk and ruining you for any other man moving forward. After that night, it was empty offices or secluded corners away from wandering eyes and prying ears, and even his apartment when you both needed that blissful release without holding back.

It was those nights at his apartment that gave you the hope that this thing between you was more than sex. The way Javi touched you in the comfort of his own space was completely different to the way he touched in those secret moments. It was less “desperate to have you before you were caught” and more “desperate to see you fall apart no matter how long it takes”. He quickly discovered it didn’t take long at all. You could see it every time he looked at you that there was something more between you, but there were days that your doubts crept in and fear reared its ugly head. You knew how you felt about him, and no matter how he showed he cared for you, called you sweet names, performed sweet gestures… you still weren’t entirely sure he felt the same way about you.

You weren’t a fool. You knew his reputation in the office, from the way the women talked about him and the way the men either praised him or disparaged him, which really depended on who had gotten on Javi’s bad side or not. He had never said more to you than he’d “made a lot of mistakes” and that he’d “been around the block a few times”, and you had been privy to his exploits in and out of the office from some of the other gossiping secretaries. You had no doubt that one or two of them were talking about themselves too, but none of that mattered to you. That was all before you had even met him, and you believed that he was being honest with you.

You really liked him. Hell, you were in love with him. Between the frenzied quickies during work hours, and the slower, passionate exchange between his sheets, there were tender moments that only you had witnessed. Him buying you a toothbrush to use when you stayed over, making coffee and pecking your lips before handing you the cup every single time, kissing the nape of your neck whenever he passed by you, lightly playing with your hair whenever you laid your head on his chest. Him reading snippets from the paper to you on a lazy Sunday morning, holding your hand as you walked side by side enjoying the late afternoon breeze, admiring the way the sun set just right over the city. It was in those moments that you felt the weight of your feelings for him, and he was the anchor that pinned you down and steadied you.

As you made your way out of the file room and down the hallway, you smiled at a few coworkers before you returned to your desk. You hunched over and flicked through the papers that were kept on the surface, picking up the page you were looking for. You walked down the opposite end of the hallway, softly opening the door to the conference room and closing it behind you. Walking over to the head of the table, you briefly made eye contact with Javi, the move going unnoticed by all the other agents at the table as they just blatantly gawked at you instead. He leaned back in his chair, his elbow leaning on the arm of it as he rubbed his fingers over his chin, watching you closely as you placed the fax down in front of Crosby. He thanked you and you turned on your heel, smiling to yourself as you felt the intensity of Javi’s gaze on you as you left the room.

A little while later, you were completely entrenched in your work when he passed by your desk in a flash, dropping a folded piece of paper right in front of your eyesight. You frowned as you lifted your head, watching his form retreat down the hallway and disappear around the corner, but not before catching a glimpse of him in the navy blue DEA jacket. That was your favorite piece of clothing on him, and for whatever reason, it never ceased to drive you crazy whenever he wore it. You both never complained about what would ensue after every time he’s worn it around you.

You opened the folded note, your eyes scanning over the words before you scrunched up the paper and threw it in the small trash can under your desk. You stood up and walked down the hall, your heels clacking against the linoleum floors as you made your way outside the building. As per his instructions, you meet him in your usual place, behind the building and away from security cameras. He was leaning back against the wall, his left knee bent and the bottom of his shoe also pressed against the brick. He stood up straight as you approached, pulling the cigarette away from his lips and blowing out the smoke, his eyebrows furrowed as you stood in front of him.

“You know what this jacket does to me,” you whispered, grabbing the lapels and pulling him a little closer as you stared up into his eyes. “I don’t think we have enough time for me to show you, though.”

He smirked at the implications of your words, but it didn’t last long as he pursed his lips in thought. “I wish that was what I was calling you out here for, cariño.”

You leaned back, instantly knowing it was serious. “What’s going on, Javi?”

“I have to leave for Cali tomorrow morning,” he sighed heavily, throwing his cigarette on the ground and stubbing it out with the toe of his boot. “Early. Crosby wants me and some of the guys to follow some intel on Orejuela.”

“For how long?” you asked, frowning.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and dragged you in closer to him, shrugging his shoulders. “However long it takes. Probably a week or two, if we’re lucky and it’s not bad intel.”

A week or two. That would be the longest period of time the two of you would be apart since you started seeing each other. You didn’t need to say anything for him to realize that same fact, his brown eyes gazing into yours as you nodded slowly, processing what he just told you.

“It seems like a lot, but I’ll be back before you know it, baby,” he promised.

A sad smile pulled at the corners of your lips, your right forefinger tracing over the yellow lettering on his jacket. “Just be careful out there.”

A soft huff escaped him as he smirked, curling a finger under your chin and lifting it so your eyes met his again. “Always am, hermosa.”

Javi leaned down and kissed you softly, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pressed yourself further into him. The embrace deepened, but rather than it being frenzied or sensual, there was something more there. Something deeper and stronger than either of you had ever felt before. It had happened once, maybe. One night in particular, which had no major significance other than it being the first time you felt there was more to this relationship between you. You felt it that night, and you felt it right there in that moment with him, concealed from the rest of the building and your nosey coworkers.

All you could hope for was his safe return back home, because you didn’t want to live another minute without feeling that way again.

A whole week had passed before you heard from Javi.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. You would call him and get no answer on his satellite phone or leave a voicemail on the hotel room one. He would try to respond but you had always been in bed by then and he would never want to disturb you, or you would be at work. You missed him more than you thought you would, with work not being enough of a distraction from the worry that wracked your whole body whenever he didn’t pick up. It was the worst feeling in the world and you prayed that you would get the reassurance that everything was fine soon.

A boring Wednesday night would be your unlikely salvation, as you occupied your time and distracted yourself from the knot in your stomach with menial tasks like doing the laundry. You sat at the edge of your bed, a pile of fresh and dried clothes on top of the covers in front you that you worked at folding mindlessly. Your favorite Fleetwood Mac record was playing softly in the background, your light humming the only other sound in the room.

Suddenly, the obnoxiously loud ring of the telephone on the nightstand made you jump out of your skin with a small squeak from your lips. You placed a hand over your heart as you calmed yourself down, before you reached over and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.”

“Javi!” you exclaimed, beaming widely.

“Fuck, it’s so good to hear your voice, cariño,” he breathed.

“Yours too,” you whispered, closing your eyes in relief. “I’ve been so scared, I-”

“I’m okay, querida,” he reassured you. “Don’t you worry about me.”

“It’s hard not to when you’re so far away from me,” you admitted, softly.

Javi sighed as he heard the waver in your voice as you spoke to him. He knew the best thing to do would be to not focus on the fear, so he didn’t.

“So, what’s your Wednesday night looking like?” he asked, changing the subject.

You knew what he was doing and honestly you were thankful for it. “Folding laundry. Sexy, right?”

“Very,” he replied, his voice low and husky.

You felt a shiver run down your back as you put down the shirt you were folding, holding the receiver tightly as you laid back against the pillows. A soft smile pulled at your lips as you heard the familiar click of Javi’s lighter, before you heard a faint puff of air.

“I miss you,” you murmured.

“Me too, cariño. You wouldn’t be leaving that room any time soon if I was there,” he stated, throwing his legs up on the coffee table as he leaned back on the sofa.

“Javi,” you giggled, shaking your head as you twirled the cord around with your finger. “You can’t say things like that to me when you’re not here.”

He smirked. “Why?”

“Well… because…” you trailed off, sighing as you thought against what you wanted to say.

“Because what, hermosa?” he asked, taking a drag from the cigarette between his fingers.

“Because,” you gulped, letting out a shuddered breath. “You can’t do anything about it.”

He chuckled softly, the sound teasing and almost sinister. “Who says I can’t?”

“I don’t-” you started but you heard him clear his throat and allowed him to continue.

“What’re you wearing?”

You gasped, your eyes widening slightly. You glanced down, looking at the khaki t-shirt of his that you had stolen, your legs bare as you only wore black lace panties underneath. You knew exactly where this was going to lead if you told him what you had on, and that sent a small current of arousal through you, spreading to every nerve in your body. You heard him suck in a breath as you mentioned your state of dress, and bit down on your lip. It turned you on that he was so turned on by you.

“What are you wearing?” you asked in return, hoping for the answer to be your favorite piece of clothing on him.

He chuckled, looking down at the DEA jacket he was in fact wearing. “You’re obsessed, querida.”

“Can’t help it,” you shrugged, smiling. “It’s really sexy.”

“Pretty sure that’s you,” he countered.

You hummed as a smile tugged at your lips, loving the way he could go from sensual to sensitive within a few seconds. It was statements like that which gave you the hope that he wanted more with you, too. You knew he cared for you, you could see it in his eyes and feel it in his touch every single day, but did he feel more than that? That was the only doubt you had about the two of you.

“Touch yourself, cariño,” he instructed, slowly unbuckling his belt. “Over the shirt, don’t even think about sliding that hand between your legs, not yet.”

“Javi,” you whined, softly.

“You’re going to listen to what I say, hermosa,” he warned. “Right?”

“Yeah” you said, nodding.

“Good,” he muttered, putting his cigarette out in the ashtray next to him before he unzipped his jeans. “Want you to use your hands and imagine they’re mine.”

Your hand grazed over the curve of your breast, the fabric catching over your nipples and causing a small moan to escape you. As much as you wanted to, you resisted letting your other hand move down between your thighs until Javi said that you could. You cupped the left, your thumb flicking over the hardened bud over the material, a whimper leaving you as you squeezed your legs together.

“Moaning for me already, huh?” he asked, smirking. He dropped a string of his saliva into his hand, slipping it into his boxers and took out of his cock, pumping slowly.

“Yes,” you whispered, closing your eyes as you licked your lips. “I wish you were here.”

“Fuck, me too, hermosa,” he groaned, moving his hand a little faster to work up the blood flow. “I’d have you up against the wall as soon as you open the fucking door.”

You hummed, groping yourself a little harder. “Javi, please. I want-”

“I know what you want, baby,” he interjected, slowing his movement down slightly. “Just a little longer. Squeeze those gorgeous tits of yours for me, want you to pull your shirt up and pinch your nipples…”

You shifted on the bed and arched your back, reaching down to pull your shirt up and expose your nipples to the cool breeze coming in from the open window. Your fingers skimmed over your warm skin and over your left breast, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you rolled the nipple between your thumb and forefinger. Your sigh turned into a wanton moan as you gripped the phone receiver tighter.

“You sound so beautiful, cariño,” he breathed, his gaze falling down to his hand as he began to pump a little harder again. “You’re already making me so hard, it’s ridiculous.”

“Javi,” you moaned, biting your lip to keep control of yourself. “Tell me, tell me what you’d do, please.”

His eyes squeezed shut as he heard the desperation in your voice, and he knew he needed to slow things down before it was over before it really even began. “Fuck, hermosa, I’d… kiss your breasts and lick your nipples. I’d roll them between my fingers to get them hard, like you are right now.”

“M-More,” you gasped. You could feel your arousal growing between your legs, just from your ministrations and his voice.

“I’d love to see you right now. See you teasing yourself, see your hand move down your beautiful body to your pussy…” he trailed off, hoping you understood your next instruction, his own pleasure building as he stroked himself.

You breathed deep, your hand skimming over your stomach and down to your panties, pushing them down your thighs. You wiggled slightly to get them past your knees before kicking them off and letting your hand slide between your thighs. Your fingers moved over your mound, dipping in between your folds, feeling the wetness there.

“Javi,” you moaned, softly. “I’m…”

Javi felt the way his cock twitched as he heard you say his name. It always drove him absolutely crazy the way it fell from your lips, and he wished more than anything that he could see you in that moment. 

“You what, cariño? Talk to me.” His voice was low and gravelly, turning you on even more.

“I’m so wet,” you gasped.

“Fuck,” he breathed out. “So wet just for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, only you, Javi,” you whimpered.

“Good girl,” he complimented. “Rub your clit, baby…”

Your fingers continued to run through your folds before they drifted up, moving over your clit in slow, teasing circles. A sharp breath escaped you as you felt a pleasured sensation radiate through your whole body, feeling it from the tips of your toes right to your head. Javi smirked as you heard you, trying to imagine you on the bed as he talked to you. He groaned as he worked his hand over his dick, a little faster and firmer, just the way you always did with him.

“Keep touching yourself for me, gorgeous. Move those fingers inside you. Tell me how it feels” he ordered.

You moved your fingers to your entrance, inserting one first, your walls contracting around the intrusion to allow another, pumping them in and out. You rubbed the pads of your fingers against the slick surface, moaning as the pleasure pulsed through you. You were about to lose yourself in it all, completely overwhelmed by the bliss you were feeling in that moment until you heard a faint grunt from him, the buckle of his belt clinking slightly.

“It feels so good. I… I wish they were your fingers inside me,” you moaned loudly, writhing on the bed.

“Me too, hermosa. Imagine it’s my fingers fucking you, making you feel so good,” he said, closing his eyes, imagining it himself.

“You’re touching yourself, too aren’t you, baby?” you asked, biting her lip.

“Yeah,” he groaned, continuing to fist his hard length.

“I bet you wish it was my hand, don’t you?” you added.

“Fuck, yeah I do, querida. Wish it was, fuck, wish it was your tight little pussy wrapped around my cock, squeezing around me as you take me in,” he grunted, gripping himself a little tighter.

You slid your fingers back and forth, the wet squelch of your pussy reaching your ear and making you work them inside a little faster, knowing you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Oh, Javi,” you shrieked. “Oh fuck, you’d feel so good inside me… filling me up, making me feel so full.”

Javi threw his head back, hitting the back of the couch as his jaw clenched hearing your words. If only you knew how they affected him to the point of wanting to do exactly that, to fill you up, make you feel full. He knew he had to hold back on that revelation, though, for now at least. His hand picked up the pace, chasing the impending release. He knew you were close too, judging by how loud you were getting, which was just another thing he liked about you. If you were in a state of complete bliss, you made it known at the highest decibel possible.

“You’re close, aren’t you, querida?” he panted, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can hear it in your voice, fuck, I wanna hear you cum for me.”

“Yes, oh fuck, yes I’m so close,” you whimpered, arching your back as you sank your fingers deeper into your core. “Make me cum, Javi, please.”

“You sound so fucking beautiful, fucking yourself on your fingers,” he growled. “You’re gonna cum with me, hermosa. Wanna hear you scream my name when you soak your fingers.”

Your thumb moved over your clit, circling the bundle of nerves as you continued to thrust your fingers in and out of your wet heat, causing a string of high pitched moans to leave your lips. At that point, you didn’t care if your neighbors heard you, you didn’t care if they thought you were possibly being murdered inside your tiny apartment, you only cared about him. You only cared about the way he was making you feel, even from hundreds of miles away.

“Javi, oh my god! I-I’m gonna cum,” you shrieked, overwhelmed by what you were feeling.

“Do it, sweetheart. Make yourself cum on your fingers. Make yourself cum for me,” he groaned.

Your eyes shut tightly as you tossed your head to the side, the receiver falling from your hand as your fingers moved faster, harder until it finally became too much to bear. You let out a string of loud, rasping moans that mixed with pleasured calls of his name as the dam broke, your arousal coating your fingers as waves of euphoria crashed over you. Javi pumped his fist rapidly, your voice laced with pure ecstasy being his undoing even from over the phone, as he tightened his grip slightly and grunted your name one last time before he felt spurts of his seed cover his hand and exposed skin of his pelvis.

You both breathed heavily, hearing each other come down from your high over the phone. Javi smirked, chuckling to himself. You really were something to get him so worked up just from this, but it only made him miss you more. He took several deep breaths before he called your name, amused by your little hum and lack of any other response. You had melted into the sheets, completely blissed out as you shared up at the ceiling. Your hand fumbled over the covers and picked up the phone again, biting your lip as you tried to find the words.

He grinned, still hearing your heavy exhales. “You okay over there, cariño?”

“That… was…” You paused, gulping as you caught your breath. You giggled lightly, shaking your head. You had no words.

“That was fucking hot,” he stated, as he reached for tissues to clean himself up.

You hummed, still running your fingers over your folds, slowly. “Yeah, it was.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, a cocky grin on his face.

You laughed, shaking her head. “I’ve… I’ve never done that before. Over the phone, I mean.”

“Coulda fooled me, hermosa,” he smirked. He needed to stop thinking about it, knowing it would get him hard all over again.

“I guess when it comes to you… I just feel-” you shrugged, struggling to find the words to tell him what he made you feel.

You rolled onto your side, the phone receiver resting between your face and the pillow. You knew what you wanted to say, but it worried you to think he might not feel the same way and scare him off. So you said the next best thing, that was equally true.

“I feel safe with you, Javi.”

Javi zipped up his jeans before he sat up, placing his feet back on the floor. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest as his fist tightened around the phone. His jaw clenched as he felt his words cut through him in an unexpected way. He had always considered his job a way of keeping people safe, that if you put away the bad guys then that’s what you were doing - protecting people. In the last few years, however, he felt there was a disillusionment that had started to set in. He had realized that no matter what he did, no matter how many assholes he put away, there was always going to be someone else to take the helm, another cartel to add to the drug war. So lately, he felt like he couldn’t keep anyone safe as Agent Javier Peña.

But you weren’t talking about Agent Peña. You were talking about Javi. Regular Javi was who you felt safe with. Regular Javi, from Laredo, Texas with an aging father waiting for him to come home for good. A place he hoped to bring you back to someday soon. It was funny how much he had wanted to leave that place as a younger man, and now with you in his life, he couldn’t wait to return.

“I’ll always keep you safe, querida,” he promised, his voice a low husk. “Always.”

His life had always been full of fear, loss, heartache. It was only when he met you that he found out there was so much more to experience, so much more to look forward to. You brought a light into the darkness he had become too accustomed to, and had given him the same kind of safety he had promised you. He had no need to fear who he was and what he was capable of anymore, because you believed he was better than that.

You made him want to be a better man.

You felt butterflies in your stomach as your heart swelled with unbridled joy for the first time in a long time as his words sunk in. You didn’t need anything else from him at that moment, because you knew whatever was next in your relationship would happen eventually, when you were both ready for it.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said, a hopeful lilt in your tone.

“Yeah,” he breathed, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Sweet dreams, baby.”

“Goodnight, handsome.”

By the time Saturday rolled around, you were completely exhausted from work but in better spirits after your little call with Javi on Wednesday. As much as you missed him, and you did terribly, you continued to distract yourself with your normal, mundane routine which had proved to be a good idea. You had made a list of groceries and gone to the store, ready to cook up a storm because it wasn’t often you got to do something more elaborate rather than quick and easy.

As the late afternoon sun set over Bogotá, you pulled your car into the parking lot of your apartment complex and retrieved the two brown bags from the backseat. Taking the stairs up to the entrance, you smiled as one of your neighbors recognized you as they came out, holding the door open for you. You made your way up two flights, huffing slightly as you got to your floor and walked to your door. Placing one of the bags down on the floor, you reached into your purse to find your keys, only for the door to suddenly open and make your heart leap out of your chest.

“Hey, baby.”

You clutched a hand over your chest to calm yourself as your eyes widened, seeing Javi standing in front of you, leaning against the door frame. He was wearing that navy blue shirt that you loved on him, tucked into his signature blue jeans. You beamed at him as he took the bags from you, smirking as he put them down near the door and instantly pulled you into his arms, pressing a searing kiss to your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his slipped around your waist, giggling as his mustache tickled under your nose. Pulling away slightly, he pecked your lips a few times before he looked deep into your eyes.

“What’re you doing here?” you asked, incredulously. “I thought you were going to be gone for another week.”

“Well, the intel turned out to be a bust, so I came home early,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders as he linked his hands over the slope of your back.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you sighed, lightly stroking his hair at the back of his head.

He shook his head, pulling you in closer. “We’ll get them. I can feel we’re close.”

You nodded, slowly as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his softly. “How did you get in here anyway?”

“Didn’t take long to convince your landlords of who I was,” he explained, chuckling lightly. “They let me in.”

“Mrs. Alvarez has been trying to set me up with men for years, so she’s probably just really happy I met someone,” you quipped.

He rolled his eyes playfully as he walked you backwards, pressing you up against the wall. You stared up at him, biting your lip as his hands slid under the hem of your t-shirt causing you to shiver from his touch. He bent down, teasing your lips with his, slowly drifting down and nipping along the length of your neck.

“Javi,” you choked out, laughing slightly. “What’re you-”

“Told you I’d have you up against the wall as soon as I got home,” he recalled.

“But I have groceries,” you countered, glancing down at the bags. “I wanna cook for you now.”

He shook his head, leaning his forehead against yours. “You can do that tomorrow if you want, but right now I’ve got a week of being away to make up for.”

You bit back a moan as you held his gaze, letting him lead you through your apartment. He pressed you up against the doorframe of your room, your lips locked in a rough, passionate exchange as your hands tugged at his shirt to pull him as close as possible. A wanton moan escaped you as his mouth moved down to your neck, leaving love bites along your skin.

“Might not be that easy,” you muttered into his ear. “I think you need to woo me first.”

He stopped his ministrations, gazing up at you with that delectable smirk of his. “Oh, I already got plans for that, cariño.”

He tipped his chin towards the small, round dining table over your shoulder which caused you to glance behind. You spotted the bottle wine, two wine glasses and a candle waiting to be lit on the surface, making you smile brightly as you turned back to him.

“We can order from that place you like down the street so I don’t kill you with my cooking,” he jested, pulling back a little to look at you properly. “And uh… there’s something I need to say which I couldn’t over the phone. Just felt too important.”

You frowned, feeling your heart beating rapidly. “What is it?”

“I love you.”

The words fell out of his perfect lips as simply as breathing. You felt tears well up and blur your sight as you gazed at him, breathing deeply as you let those words sink in. Even the way he looked at you, brown eyes filled with the sincerity of his confession, made you realize that there was never any reason to doubt how he felt about you. It had always been there under the surface, waiting to breach the barrier of fear that came with his job.

He took your hands in his and leaned down, kissing your knuckles before leading you over to the table. He picked up the corkscrew, twisting it to open the bottle, winking at you as it popped and making you giggle. He poured the wine into two glasses before handing you one, clinking his glass against yours before he took a sip. You didn’t, looking at him and taking in his every move. He noticed you staring, a smirk playing at his lips as he put his glass down.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, your eyes never leaving his.

You beamed as you finally pressed the rim of the glass to your lips, your sight landing on something hanging over one of the dining chairs. Your eyes focused over the glass on the yellow letters against the dark blue fabric, feeling a heat take over your body that certainly didn’t come from one sip of wine. Gulping the liquid down, you held the glass as you took his hand with your free one, and dragged him away from the table. He frowned, not sure what you were trying to convey until you stopped, picked up his DEA jacket and pressed it against his chest. He grinned as he looked down at you, holding it tight.

“We can eat later,” you said, turning and leading the way into your bedroom.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, hermosa.”

Javi chuckled as he hooked two fingers into the collar of the jacket and swung it over his shoulder, picking up his wine glass in the other hand as he followed you. You kept him on his toes, something that he loved about you just as much as your amazing capacity to see him for who he is and not judge him. You saw all of it, and knew he was capable of more than he gave himself credit for. You saw all his flaws, and loved him in spite of that, which he never thought would be possible. Despite all the horrors of his job, he had found something good. Something real.

And that was one thing he knew he could count on above everything else.

Follow @wayward-dreamers-library for notifications of when I update.

[santaasi]

moonstruck

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: who could have known that jj maybank would steal your first kiss beneath the stars, all to evade the pursuing police?

warnings: fluff, first kiss, no use of y/n, english isn't my first language

word count: 2.6k

a/n: a little fic to celebrate the release of obx4. after s3 idk if I'll watch s4, but you can give me your opinion about 5 new eps in the comments. have a nice time reading this work! love u <3

ᯓ★ now playing...

enhypen - moonstruck

THE NIGHT AIR WAS WARM, infused with the salty tang of the sea and the soothing rhythm of waves crashing against the shore. The gentle breeze rustled the palm fronds, creating a soft, whispering melody that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. This tranquil evening was the only redeeming quality of your job at the cluttered antique store. After two long years, you still wondered how your boss managed to keep the place afloat, especially when half the customers left without buying anything. Those who did purchase something often bombarded you with endless questions that drained your patience, just like today.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders as your shift finally came to an end. All you wanted was to retreat to the solace of your home and hide beneath a warm blanket. It had been one of those days—when customers were rude, the air conditioning was a distant memory, your legs ached from standing, and you smelled like a dust-covered relic.

After struggling to lock the front door—an ancient key refusing to cooperate, as if it had been stuck since the Great Depression—you slung your bag over your shoulder and stepped out into the quiet streets of the Cut. The fresh sea air caressed your skin, invigorating your senses. You knew this town like the back of your hand, every crack in the pavement a familiar companion. The streetlights flickered overhead, bulbs long overdue for replacement, casting a dim glow that made the shadows dance around you. Though it wasn’t the safest place, it was home—a place where trouble always seemed to find you.

And one of them even had a name: JJ Maybank.

Like everyone in the Cut, you had heard countless stories about him and his adventures with the crew who proudly called themselves the Pogues. From the time you were kids, his reputation as a wild spirit with a devil-may-care attitude had preceded him. You remembered the laughter that echoed through the neighborhood as he and his friends roamed the sandy streets, always planning their next adventure—sneaking onto rooftops, racing bikes down the winding roads, and daring each other to dive into the ocean at dawn. JJ was the embodiment of carefree youth, with a reckless smile that could charm anyone and a spark in his eyes that promised trouble.

Despite sharing the same neighborhood, your worlds felt galaxies apart. While he thrived in the thrill of spontaneous adventures, you found comfort in the quiet corners of your life. You spent lazy afternoons lost in books, dreaming of places far beyond the horizon. As children, you’d played side by side in the warm sand, yet your paths seemed to diverge with the years. JJ was the star of wild tales and whispered legends, while you remained a quiet observer, forever intrigued yet hesitant to step into his whirlwind of chaos.

You never expected that your paths would cross, at least not like this — bound together by a single, reckless moment that would change everything.

As you stood there, savoring the rhythmic crash of waves against the sandy shore, the tranquil scene was suddenly pierced by the sound of heavy footsteps behind you — fast and uneven, as if someone were running. The street was mostly quiet, just a few couples strolling hand in hand, lost in the warmth of a summer evening. The sudden urgency in the air pulled your attention, stirring a sense of curiosity.

Before you could turn to see who it was, a hand grasped your wrist, spinning you around with a swift motion. Your heart leaped into your throat, eyes widening in shock. You instinctively clutched the worn fabric of a white T-shirt, struggling to steady yourself. Frowning in confusion, you looked up and met the cheeky blue eyes of the last person you expected to see.

It was him — JJ Maybank himself, breathless and frantic, the unmistakable spark of mischief dancing in his gaze. Even amid his panic, his blue eyes glinted with a familiar wildness, hinting at the reckless adventure he always seemed to be chasing. In that moment, the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you standing on the edge of the beach, the waves whispering secrets to the shore.

“Hey there, my pretty little neighbor! It’s a perfect evening for a walk, don’t you think?” JJ chatted, his smile strained as he kept glancing back over his shoulder.

“JJ? What are you doing—?” You barely had time to finish your question before he cut you off. His playful demeanor vanished, replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness that sent a chill down your spine. His blue eyes scanned your face, searching for something.

“I need your help,” he said quickly, lowering his voice as the distant wail of sirens began to fill the air.

Your thoughts raced, but they tangled together in confusion. “What?” you whispered, still too stunned to process what was happening.

“The cops are coming,” he said urgently, glancing around as if the shadows themselves might betray him. “I just… I need you to help me not get caught. Please.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your head around the situation. The sirens grew louder, and flashing lights danced around the corner, cutting through the evening calm. Panic swelled in your chest. What could you possibly do? You were not the type to get involved in this kind of chaos, especially not with someone like JJ, who always seemed to flirt with trouble.

You bit your lip, staring at him, your mind racing. You had no clue what JJ had done this time, but with all the rumors swirling about him, it could be serious. If the cops saw you with him, they might think you were involved, and the last thing you wanted was to be dragged into a police station to answer questions. All you wanted was to go home, wrap yourself in a cozy blanket, binge-watch your favorite show, and sip hot tea until sleep finally took you.

But time was running out. You needed a plan — and fast.

Then, a ridiculous idea flashed through your mind, inspired by that Marvel movie you had watched a few weeks ago. People tended to look away when they saw couples getting too… intimate. It was as if tenderness made them uncomfortable, a reminder of something personal they weren’t meant to witness. Kisses, soft touches, the kind of closeness that drew attention away from everything else.

Oh, no. You swallowed hard, heart pounding. It was a risky move, but you didn’t have the luxury of time to second-guess yourself.

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed JJ by the collar and pulled him closer, pressing your lips to his.

It wasn’t just any kiss; it was your first kiss, and you had no clue what you were doing. The warmth of his lips against yours sent a jolt through you, a thrilling rush that left you dizzy. His breath mingled with yours, soft and sweet, and for a heartbeat, everything else faded away. You thought about pulling back, a wave of embarrassment washing over you, but then you felt his hand cradling the back of your head, steadying you, keeping you from breaking the moment.

“Whoa,” you whispered, your heart racing. But before you could say anything else, JJ deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours with a playful insistence. You gasped, a surprised sound escaping your lips as your mind spun with confusion and exhilaration. You were lost in a whirlwind of sensations — your heart pounded wildly, and your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tugging gently at the tips.

Suddenly, your back hit something cold and hard. JJ pulled back slightly, both of you panting, gulping for air. His gaze swept over your face, a mixture of surprise and something unnameable flickering in his eyes. You opened your mouth, desperate to say something — anything — to justify your impulsive action, to apologize for crossing a line. The silence felt thick and awkward, stretching out between you like a taut string.

“Uh, I didn’t—” you began, but before you could finish, JJ’s hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm and grounding. He pulled you in again, kissing you once more, more fiercely this time.

Your cheeks burned, but it felt like your entire body was ablaze. Thoughts of right and wrong melted away, leaving only the intoxicating pleasure of his lips against yours. You couldn’t help but think that everyone who claimed JJ Maybank’s kisses were magical had it all wrong. They weren’t magical; they were raw and real, yet they lifted you high above the chaos of the world. Each kiss felt like a leap into the unknown, an escape where your soul soared and your heart raced.

Just as you lost yourself in the heat of it all, the wail of sirens pierced the air, cutting through the intimacy of the moment. Police cars rushed past, barely glancing in your direction, but the sudden noise jolted your heart back to reality.

The kiss lingered for a heartbeat longer before you pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, struggling to process what had just happened. JJ blinked, his lips slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something, but the words failed to materialize, hanging in the air between you like unspoken secrets.

As reality settled back in, you dropped your hands, suddenly aware of just how close you had been. The warmth of the moment began to fade, replaced by a rush of embarrassment that flooded your cheeks. You cleared your throat, adjusting the bag that had slipped off your shoulder, the awkwardness of the situation weighing heavily on you.

“I... uh, saw it in the movies,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. The words tumbled out in a rush. “People don’t like public affection, so…”

JJ stared at you, a mixture of surprise and amusement flickering in his blue eyes. Then, to your shock, a slow grin spread across his face, playful and teasing. “Damn it,” he said, still trying to catch his breath, his voice light with laughter. “Remind me to ask you to save my ass more often, Bambi.”

You felt your cheeks ignite like they were on fire, and instinctively, you took a step back, craving a little more space. What had you just gotten yourself into? Your mind raced, blinking like a deer caught in headlights, unsure whether to crack a joke, tease him back, or just stand there in stunned silence.

JJ chuckled hoarsely, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe the turn of events. “You’re something else, you know that?”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips, the tension hanging between you slowly beginning to ease, but the flutter in your stomach remained, leaving you wondering what this moment meant for both of you.

“Don’t look at me like that with those beautiful big eyes of yours, or I might just fall for you right here and now,” he teased, flashing a wink that sent a rush of warmth to your cheeks.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a shy smile crept onto your lips. “Seriously, JJ? Is this your idea of flirting? Because it’s kind of cheesy.”

“I know, right?” he laughed, the sound light and carefree. “But it works, doesn’t it? I mean, look at you! I’d be an idiot not to try.”

His voice dropped, a playful seriousness creeping in as he leaned closer. “I think I owe you now,” he whispered, almost conspiratorially, his breath tickling your ear. His hand slid gently over your shoulder, and before you could react, he casually lifted your bag, throwing it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

“Hey! That’s my bag!” you protested, half-heartedly, your heart fluttering at his boldness.

“I know, but I don’t like being beholden to beautiful girls like you,” he said, grinning like he’d just won a prize. “So, as a thank you, I’m walking you home. Wouldn’t want anyone to steal you away.”

He winked again, laughter dancing in his blue eyes as he started to walk ahead, your bag bouncing lightly against his back. You stood frozen for a moment, still processing what just happened. His hair was tousled, the way it always was, and you wondered if your heart had raced like this before. Did you really make him flustered? Oh my God, was this really happening?

“Are you coming?” he called over his shoulder, pausing to give you that cheeky grin that made your stomach flip.

“Uh, yeah, I’m coming!” you managed to say, shaking yourself out of your daze. You hurried to catch up with him, your heart beating wildly, a mix of exhilaration and disbelief bubbling inside you. As you walked side by side, the sound of the waves crashing behind you and the warm breeze wrapping around you felt like a secret the universe was sharing.

The night air was alive with laughter and playful banter, the gentle rhythm of the waves providing a perfect soundtrack to your conversation. JJ animatedly recounted his latest adventures with the Pogues — like the time they snuck into the lighthouse for a midnight swim and ended up launching a misguided rescue mission for a beach ball. You hung on every word, entranced by his charisma, the warmth of his presence beside you igniting something within you.

“Seriously, though,” he said, glancing sideways, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, “thanks for helping me back there. Who knew a cute girl could be such a hero?”

You laughed, the sound bright in the night air. “I didn’t have much of a choice. You practically swept me off my feet with that spin…”

He chuckled, that familiar mischief dancing in his gaze. “What can I say? I’ve always been drawn to trouble. And now, I guess I’m just moonstruck by you.”

With each step, the distance between you shrank, a connection sparking amid the chaos of the night. When you finally reached your porch, he paused, turning to face you, the glow of the moon illuminating his features in a way that made your heart race.

“I had an awesome time tonight,” he said, a hint of sincerity in his tone. “Maybe we should hang out again. You know, when I’m not dodging cops or getting into trouble. How about a pizza or something?”

You chuckled, the sound light and bright. “Didn’t know you treated all your life saviors to dinner. What’s next, a moonlit pizza date?”

JJ smirked, leaning in slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Only the cute ones. Just imagine it—a night under the stars, with me serenading you about my crazy adventures. Sounds perfect, right?”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling your heart race at the thought. “Yeah, maybe. But I’m not sure if I’m ready for your karaoke skills yet.”

He threw his head back and laughed, a sound that made your heart flutter. “Oh, I’ll win you over. You’ll be begging for an encore.”

With a final grin, he stepped back, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment that felt electric. “Cool. I’ll see you around then.”

As you watched him walk away, the night felt charged with promise, the moonlight casting a silvery glow that made everything seem magical. You stood on your porch, a soft whisper of excitement filling your heart, knowing that this was just the beginning of something wonderfully beautiful—something that had you feeling both moonstruck and hopeful for what lay ahead.

thankx for reading <3

you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

masterlist

[pwnyta]

Noble- lol kinda want an AU where that pink haired guy is Stones ex and Robotnik fucking hates him.

Me- LOL

Also me for the next few weeks-

--

I call this AU ''The Lost Prince (of Wendimoor)'' right? sketchy cover page concept-

If I had a nickle for every time I locked on on a doe-eyed, yearner played by Lee Majdoub in love(allegedly) with a 6'2'', red-tinted man who is a master at his craft from a series with world warping technology, a fucked up moon, and a child hero...

I would have 2 nickles etc.

ANYWAYS. The story is about Agent Stone who is secretly Silas Dengdamor. Somehow he got warped/trapped on Earth and had to rebuild his life since Earth is a far less forgiving place than the planet of Wendimoor and he had to accept that Panto might not be able to help him. BUT he finally managed to apply all the fighting skills taught to him by Wygar and eventually ended up in GUN which lands him in Robotnik's circle.

Little did he know Panto has been trying to find Silas this entire time, using warp rings to traverse the galaxy when the search for him on Wendimoor resulted in nothing. (Hes left the defense and care for the kingdoms to Litzi and Wygar)

Panto finally makes it to Earth after escaping some shenanigans on some other planet and in the chaos lost his warp rings somewhere. SO he too has been stuck on Earth which is fine for him because he was gonna be searching for Silas anyways. (He actually loses his rings on Earth and Sonic finds them and is a little concerned/excited for another alien to meet... I didnt draw any of that LMAO) ANYWAYS after nearly a decade Pantos search finally comes to an end.

(V Im putting the rest under the cut cuz theres a lot of doodles V)

Ivo doesnt share food, of course.

Panto can only tolerate so much.

A rock stuck between a hard and harder place bout to be ground into a fine DUST.

BETRAYAL!! (?)

SO ANYWAYS. something something Sonic shenanigans but before the final battle somehow Sonic and Panto meet... maybe like Panto sees the little pouch he kept his rings in and gets them back. Something... Panto returns to Silas (& Ivo) and tells them he has a way back home for them (he and Silas) but Silas hesitates and then cant bring himself to go... not when Ivo is watching them (TOTALLY NOT BOTHERED AT ALL. HES NEVER BEEN BOTHERED EVER IN HIS ENTIRE LIFE IN FACT). Panto understands and says he has 2 warp rings left (Sonic used a few to fuck around maybe IDK) and should at least visit Wendimoor because Wygar and Farson (and even his mother) miss him and he should get a proper good bye. Stone invites Ivo to Wendimoor... whether or not he goes to check it out IDK... I feel like might be curious enough but also maybe he'd think itd be too awkward IDK I DIDNT DRAW THIS PART BECAUSE I DONT KNOW.

When they get back shenanigans, Sonic v Ivo fight and Ivo ends up on the Mushroom planet. Stone insists on waiting for Ivo at Mean Bean and Panto stays with him and they reconnect nice and proper! Panto accepts his life of villainy as long as he can please Silas.

something something... S3 where Ivo is injured and is being taken care by mostly Stone... and Stone is being helped by Panto (Ivo rejects Pantos help at any given moment but also kinda feels bad about it because Stone has been running himself ragged.)

Some misc Stobotnik and Pantlas! doodles-

Panto doesnt understand SIlas' affection for Ivo but then after sorta getting to know the guy he starts seeing Ivos dumb way of kinda returning affection (something that Silas is a little blind to himself). BUT if Ivo is SO important to Silas, Panto will keep him safe.

Eventually Panto brings up the stuff between Ivo and Silas as well as Silas' love for the other man and Silas feels bad but Panto WILL share food... if it means so much to Silas. And frankly Ivo is a jackass and maybe wont even do anything so he wont have to bother worrying.

IVO STILL DOESNT SHARE FOOD.... (The food wasnt his to begin with BUT IT DOESNT MATTER.)

The only thing that keeps them from killing each other is the fact the person they care most about would be upset by it.

I thought WAY too hard about this and yet...

NOT HARD ENOUGH.

[bwlkins]

I feel like the fandom is overlooking this Aziraphale's line. He perfectly knows that Heaven is no better than Hell.

And I know TV Aziraphale is slightly different from Book Aziraphale, but he is not totally different character. Do you remember this amazing bit from the GO book? I think we'll get something like that in S3.

It's while he's discorporated and he goes through a couple of different spiritualists in different countries before he gets back to London and Tracy; he stops off in an American TV evangelist and points out everything wrong with the guy's sermon…

"He (the preacher) stopped, suddenly. “Well, nice try,” he said, in a completely different voice, “only it won’t be like that at all. Not really. “I mean, you’re right about the fire and war, all that. But that Rapture stuff—well, if you could see them all in Heaven—serried ranks of them as far as the mind can follow and beyond, league after league of us, flaming swords, all that, well, what I’m trying to say is who has time to go round picking people out and popping them up in the air to sneer at the people dying of radiation sickness on the parched and burning earth below them? If that’s your idea of a morally acceptable time, I might add.

“And as for that stuff about Heaven inevitably winning . . . Well, to be honest, if it were that cut and dried, there wouldn’t be a Celestial War in the first place, would there? It’s propaganda. Pure and simple. We’ve got no more than a fifty percent chance of coming out on top. You might just as well send money to a Satanist hotline to cover your bets, although to be frank when the fire falls and the seas of blood rise you lot are all going to be civilian casualties either way. Between our war and your war, they’re going to kill everyone and let God sort it out—right?

“Anyway, sorry to stand here wittering, I’ve just a quick question—where am I?”

[miwiheroes]

Arguments I think we should stop using for Byler and why:

Let me know if you have any thoughts about these! This post isn't made to give anyone byler doubt btw omg, my intention is to actually cure it, because I feel like some of these arguments are made as an overcompensation as a result of doubt so-

"Why do people say that two boys falling in love in the 80s is unrealistic? This show is about monsters and a different dimension!"

This argument is pretty much always a joke, which i don't mind, but using it as a genuine rebuttal isn't going to get us anywhere. People in general are far more likely to believe the impossible--things like monsters and super powers--than the improbable--things like two boys in the 80s falling in love. I feel like, instead, we should be focusing in on the fact that two boys falling in love in the 80s is an important thing to represent because it was improbable and "unrealistic". The reason why it feels so unrealistic to happen is because there is actually very little representation of it happening successfully, therefore, if we see more representation of it, it won't be seen as unrealistic anymore. Also, I don't believe that the audience really understands that what they're watching is not supposed to be a shot for shot realistic protrayal of real life. This isn't just about monsters and shit, this show is about love. Yes it's cheesy, but it's not unrealistic for a show about love - which portrays unique loving relationships like platonic love between a random guy and a lesbian - to portray a queer love story which honestly isn't even that hard to wrap one's head around.

"Mike didn't care about El until she pointed to Will's photo. He only cared about her because she helped find Will."

Okay this one is wayyy more nuanced than just him only caring about her because of Will. He is a heroic human being, and this is supposed to be portrayed by him taking her into his home, not out of romantic love, but just out of goodness of character. He is a very sweet person at the beginning of S1 because he's curious about El and acts different to Lucas and Dustin. Although, there are definitely things to show that he doesn't love her romantically here, like him trying to get rid of her and get her back to her family or something. I think the argument above in bold actually is an overcompensation for how he acts around her in S1. He treats her like a friend when showing her around, but Bylers might be afraid that looks too romantic. Don't worry guys, I really think it's Mike being himself. Acting friendly and nice around El is just part of his character to me. He also decides to not have her talk to his mom when she says she's in trouble, so it's not all about Will. However!!! He does decide to commit to hiding her and begins to place her on a pedestal when she starts to make an effort to find Will.

"Mike and El are on bad terms at the end of S4 so they won't be together in S5."

This argument was also used at the end of S3 (see the byler slides), saying that technically, Mike and El weren't actually together by the end of S3. Then they were together in S4. Here's the thing. This show isn't all about telling and not showing. It's about the opposite. Just because they didn't tell the audience "we're back together now!!!" doesn't mean that they aren't. At the end of S3, for example, El going "I love you too" implies that they are back together and that their relationship is now going to be more grown-up unlike in S3. Because of the love monologue at the end of S4, I can genuinely see Mike and El being back together at the beginning of S5. I can see them actually saying I love you to each other a la Steve and Nancy S2. Like, come on guys, isn't our whole argument that you can say I love you to someone and not actually be telling the truth? Also, Finn has confirmed that Mike and El will be together "going into" season 5, and the time skip between March 1986 and Nov. 1987 shows to me that they are still going to be together, and that they are saying I love you because El would not be staying in that relationship if he continues not to say it. More problems in their relationship are going to be revealed, beyond him being able to say I love you or not.

"This actor ships Byler so Byler endgame."

Uh oh,,,, if you start saying this, you can easily get a rebuttal from a Milkvan saying that so and so ships Milkvan, so... I honestly think that people saying they like Byler as a ship can be somewhat seen as a little hint they could possibly be endgame but tbh, it's not a full proof. To me, proof from the actors comes from what they don't say about Byler. They don't treat it like Stonathan, Ronance and Steddie. They treat it like a possibility, like a spoiler. The other queer ships of ST are treated like cool things that would have been interesting if they had happened. Byler is never treated as something that would have been cool. It's something that could happen. My confidence comes from when the actors are more ambiguous about Byler than when they're completely, utterly on board with it. Except for Noah, because he's definitely allowed to ship it, because his character is literally in love with Mike.

[museaux]

Solace - Andrew "Pope" Cody x Reader

wc: 841

warnings: (family) trauma, feelings of worthlessness

banner: cafekitsune

an: i’m at the end of s3 and can’t stop thinking about him lol. also, this is my first time writing for pope + a non anime fandom in quite a while so pls read with an open mind LMAO

Constantly playing second fiddle in every aspect of your life will make a weary soul out of anyone. Andrew, one of these second fiddles, was a deeply troubled soul who quietly longed to be first—even for just a moment. Though he longed for it, he felt undeserving of being a priority. His standing as a second thought, family muscle or the occasional nuisance served as a reminder of all his missteps—his punishment for existing under the thumb of the pain and legacy that came with the Cody name.

Unlike his brothers, and contrary to his cousin’s assumed position from the outside, Andrew saw himself as little more than a glorified errand boy. And whenever Smurf was involved directly, he was a lapdog, ready to follow her every command. That’s why, after he sat up in bed waiting for his alarm clock to chime at 6 a.m., he took a moment for himself; built a quiet ritual that placed him in the coffee shop not too far from his home every morning. He liked to sit in the corner of the shop, where for just 10 minutes, he was the only customer. Not a Cody. Not Pope. He didn’t have to worry about any familial hierarchy or job. In those moments, he was just a man with no responsibilities or identity beyond his coffee order. Every Tuesday and Thursday, these quiet mornings were especially cherished as there was one beautifully kind barista who would greet him with a warm smile and sometimes, a pastry on the house.

Six months ago, that woman wrote her number on the plastic container that encased a breakfast croissant. Since then, the two have been seeing each other. He didn’t really know how it started, only that he found himself back at the shop one Friday night at the end of her closing shift, listening intently as she told him the story behind her first tattoo. Sitting under the dim light with her that night felt different. Made him feel normal, like someone actually wanted to know and be known by him. Like he wasn’t scaring anyone away by simply existing in proximity to them.

What he felt in her presence that night kept bringing him back to the shop every other Friday at closing time as he listened to her talk about her life, offering up bits and pieces of himself as well every now and again. Tonight, he had found himself at her apartment, lost in her scent with his head on her chest as she stroked his arm and massaged his scalp. Under his cheek, her mocha-colored skin was as soft as a cloud, and though delicate, able to hold him in her bosom with ease. The sensation of her acrylics tracing up and down his arm was just enough sensation to keep him grounded in the moment (and not in his head).

“You know, you’ve never brought up your family. In all the time we’ve known each other, you’ve heard all about mine. What’s yours like?” Her smooth voice gently broke the silence between them. Listening to her was like hot fudge melting over a cold, perfectly formed scoop of ice cream—it was addictive. Sweet. He was quiet for a moment before answering. “There’s not much to tell. They’re…dysfunctional at best. I love them but… I—well. It doesn’t matter.” By this time, his eyes had closed. He was allowing himself to sink into the still unfamiliar sensation of safety and relaxation her closeness inspired. In her arms, he wasn’t a Cody or Pope, or anything else. Just Andrew. He wanted to hold onto this version of himself as long as he could, uninterrupted.

“It absolutely matters, Andrew,” she said softly. “Have you told them about me?” Her question hung in the air for a moment as he took a deep breath. “No,” he frowned. “Th-they tend to... ruin nice things. What we have is just for us. I’d rather not taint it with my family. You’re good, and for some reason, you chose me. They wouldn’t rest until they took that from me.” A single tear fell from Andrew’s eye and onto her chest as he spoke.“I’m sorry, Andrew,” she whispered. “We don’t have to talk about them.”

He lifted his head to meet her gaze. “You don’t have to apologize, y/n. They’re a lot to deal with. But when I’m with you, I don’t think about them. That’s a good thing…” he paused. “They don’t exist when I’m with you.” his eyes glossed over as he took in her expression. “Even when we’re just sitting in silence, it feels like I’m existing without expectation—for the first time ever.” A soft smile spread across y/n’s full lips as she leaned in to kiss his trembling lips. “Then let’s just sit,” she said. At her kiss and her words, Andrew found himself smiling—really smiling. His head returned to her chest, where he gave a soft kiss as they listened to the rhythm of each other’s breath for the rest of the night.

[phantosss]

some changes i would have made to the characters storylines in tua s4

disclaimer: i am no writer, it's just fun to think about the possibilities. btw anyone feel free to use any of these ideas for fics idc

lila doesn't cheat for starters. instead she and diego have both been secretly doing vigilante missions and keeping it from the other because they think they'll be mad. on one of these missions the two run into each other and rekindle their spark. basically the five and lila story but with diego and lila instead thanks. maybe one or both of them almost die or their kids are put in danger, and they decide to find a much less dangerous hobby, because while its thrilling in the moment they realize they wouldn't sacrifice their family for it

luther is shown to be much more depressed about sloanes absence (if there really is no way for her to come back) but he's trying to hold it together to be there for his family. would be nice if he bonded with characters like klaus, viktor or allison who have also lost their lovers. diego and lila shenanigans means they need luther to babysit a lot and luther finds happiness caring for his nieces and nephew. maybe he also finds a fulfilling job where he can meet a lot of people and help others.

five still finds the time subway but without lila. we get more time exploring the alternate timelines and seeing different ways the apocalypse has happened including ways the other sibs have ended the world. his PTSD and reliving his trauma is also explored. he eventually ends up in the five diner where he's told that they end the world every time but instead of excepting defeat and making everyone sacrifice themselves he finds another way (what exactly that is im not so sure) and becomes the first and only five to successfully prevent the apocalypse forever

allisons relationship with claire and ray are explored more heavily as well as everything she did in s3. i like the idea that she takes care of klaus because 1: hes the only sibling that will still talk to her and 2: because of the guilt she feels after getting him killed. i just wish her arc focused on something OTHER than saving klaus because thats basically all she did this season. would be nice if she spent more time with viktor and luther the two people she wronged most heavily in s3.

i would keep viktors confrontation with reggie but alternatively i would make this reginald umbrella reginald so it has much more weight to it. either that or have viktor express that even though he said his piece toward this reggie he will never actually get closure with their real father and nothing will remove the pain from his childhood. the rest i would keep pretty similar. reginald wants to kill ben and viktor wants to stop him at any cost. viktor knows what its like to be "the bomb" and doesn't want the same thing that happened to him to happen to ben. instead of working together to find ben however they're more in a race against eachother. maybe allison joins him and they make up on the way. i would have liked for ben and viktor to have had a heart to heart in the beginning of the season, maybe about how ben felt like a monster sometimes because of his powers, and viktor relating. idk how this would work with sparrow ben because he doesn't seem to hate his powers the same way brelly ben did but it would have been nice to show another reason why viktor is going through so much trouble to save him. and the ending where he trys to talk him down would be more impactful i think.

for klaus i would keep everything pretty much the same up until he runs into that quinn guy. instead i would have him travel to the subway with five in lilas place. five and klaus' powers are the most mind boggling out of the bunch not to mention time and death are inherently intertwined and this needed to be explored. also, you're telling me klaus literally has the power to talk to GOD and this never has any plot relevance???? klaus should have been involved in finding the solution to the apocalypse imo. also we needed klaus and ben interactions. idk how or when but it NEEDED to happen

ben and jennifer being the catalyst for the apocalypse is making it very hard for me to figure what to do with him tbh. i just wish he had more time with the other sibs and didn't turn into a horrific blob monster at the end 😭he felt less like a character this season and more like a plot device and he deserved to have some scenes that actually fleshed him out. it would have been cool if the reason he causes the apocalypse was actually because of his powers and not just because he happened to be the one to make skin contact with jennifer. i really thought that the twist was gonna be that the squid that jennifer was stuck in was the one that ben summons and that was why they were connected. not the fact that they both just had reactive magic particles in them that anyone could have set off. like what if jennifer being cut out of the squid was what killed ben?

OH! what if jennifer was an eldritch horror from the same dimension that bens tentacles are from and for some reason she wants to kill the brellys/end the world and because bens powers are linked to her she can control his mind ???? c'mon i feel like i've got something here

a have a couple of other ideas but don't know where they would fit in rn so yeah.

[autisticlenaluthor]

you might’ve said something like this before but what do you specifically think makes jackienat work as a pair besides their similar moral standpoints and narrative foils? I’m just curious cause i love talking about them and I think they’d be good to one another in a way that their potential partners and/or peers fail to do.

Like i think nat would be more communicative with jackie and understanding of who she is beyond her typical high school status. and I think jackie would openly appreciate (or grow to) who nat is in a way the typical 90s teenage boy wouldn’t and could see the place her struggles come from, not just writing it off as nat being trashy

fully agree with everything you said in the second paragraph so i've got nothing to add on that front lol but per your original question -

i think jackie and nat are the only ones who ever see undistorted, true versions of the other. ghost jackie is shown entirely through shauna's pov and since s1 mostly centers around shauna - most of jackie's moments are in relation to shauna.

(ex. how jackie makes shauna feel before the party in the pilot, how jackie reacts to shauna faking her period/losing her virginity/and so on. even though the show isn't from shauna's pov - we don't get many moments of just jackie as an individual. we mostly see her how shauna sees her. i also think this is why so many people use the bratty/lazy/mean girl argument when they dislike her, but i digress)

nat, however, sees jackie for who she actually is. she sees jackie's morals and she has a lot of respect for her from the start. she doesn't want to go against her in the pilot and at the party, she's one of the first to (other than laura lee) go along with jackie's "one nice thing" moment.

on the flip side, i think jackie has a lot of admiration for nat - even if she doesn't always show it. she tells nat that she admires how she can be herself without caring what anyone else thinks. and this is a huge compliment given that jackie cares so much about what people think of her. i honestly think this was one of the most genuine compliments jackie could've given.

there's also a level of subtle comfortability with the other. when nat kicks jackie awake and gets her out of bed - jackie whines and groans like a little kid. the others are clearly irritated at her & judging her behavior when jackie's outside, but nat isn't. she pushes, yes, but she lets jackie have her moment. she doesn't make her feel bad the way some of the others might have for needing to moan and groan. jackie is comfortable being herself with nat, and nat accepts that part of her.

i think the biggest thing though is that nat had an understated love for jackie, platonic or otherwise. shauna was jackie's best friend - but nat was the one who collected her bones, wrapped them up, and brought them back to the plane. she sat with her and apologized for what they did. she humanized her after they ravaged her body. and even after the feast, nat was the only one who seemed to show horror at what they'd done (other than tai, who didn't remember)

again in s3, nat is the one who brings up jackie - who still holds her in regard as their captain. nat may be queen, but she'll never forget the significance of jackie's role. even without a lot of on screen interaction - it's clear that jackie means so much to nat. and i imagine for jackie, it would've been the same.

[blorbologist]

I wish you would write a fic where Percy and Vex need to get warm.

Do with that what you will. (It is effing cold here so it’s on my mind) lol

This welcome has been, so nice and warm

900+ words | Gen | Perc'ahlia | TLOVM s3 and C1 compliant, set in the 1-year timeskip.

I wish you would write a fic where... prompt game

EDIT: Now cleaned up and on AO3!

--

Vex loves Percy. I mean, it’s a simple, straightforward fact. So much of him is reflected in Whitestone that it’s impossible not to love the city too. 

She might just love it a bit less right now, though. Apparently something about turning Whitestone into a necromancer's paradise impacted weather patterns (guess it’s hard to raise undead in frozen ground?) - because Percy remarked, during Winter’s Crest last year, that it was an unusually balmy winter.

This one is not unusually balmy. It’s cold. It’s skin-prickling, hair-frosting, finger-tingling fucking oppressively cold. 

Vex never knew it was even possible to be too cold for snow. But she’s definitely fucking familiar with the concept now!

It sure doesn’t feel like the Dawnfather smiles on her when the dawn was several hours late, and she woke up to several feet of snow, and to have any hope of catching anything she had to leave her very cozy bed and even cozier Percy.

Another thing to hate about this weather? Dressing up. Gone are the days of throwing on boots and bounding off for a hunt. She needs not one but two hosen on her legs, and a sweater and a jacket and a cloak on top, and gloves, and big huge boots that make her feel like the clumsiest thing in the whole fucking Alabaster Sierras if the rest of the outfit didn’t already accomplish that.

And a hat. A knit, tight hat that she has to drag over her ears or the points will freeze. It feels like she’s going deaf when she wears the thing.

After several hours of vigil in a tree - a third of them taken before sunrise when even that couldn’t warm her - Vex finally just gave up and trekked home. Because even for the Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt there was only so long she could fight off shivers to stay still. And feel every breath sharply. And watch her scarf and fur collar and stray strands of her own fucking hair slowly prickle with frost. 

She must have frostbite. Even if her magic doesn’t seem to catch on any damage. She’ll get inside, take off her gloves, and see that her fingers are black and falling off and Pike will have to leave the bakery to put them back on.

Not like she has any use for those stupid fingers; they’re stiff with cold, and she doesn’t have any game to haul back.

Everything sucks even more knowing she - don’t forget, the Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt - didn’t even hunt anything. Not even a rabbit, or a turkey, or a glimpse of that Grey Render. Funny thing: the wildlife has the sense not to be out in this weather, even if she doesn’t.

(The worst part is that Trinket, for the first time in his whole life, has decided to hibernate. Because the Parchwood is the sort of place bears want nothing to do with when the days start to shorten. And it means that Vax is in Zephrah, where it never snows, and Trinket is soundly sleeping in the warmest part of her mansion, and Vex is out here alone.)

(It means there’s less body heat to keep her warm out here. Of course.)

Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt who sucks at hunting in the Parchwood for a third of the year. It’s times like these where she’s really giddy the mansion was completed not long after the first frost; she can avoid the (surely super judgemental) stares of the townsfolk.

She just… has to fight through knee-high snow to get back. Or awkwardly step through the tracks she left in the morning. Or test the thin sheet of ice on the top of the snow, make it a few strides before crashing through. And no matter what she does her socks end up cold and wet!

By the time the lights are in sight she’s exhausted, and sweaty, and pissed, and really itching to kill something. And above all else, freezing. It’s almost enough to dull the ire - almost.

A petty part of her heart hisses that she never, ever should have fallen in love with a clever, thoughtful, nerdy, proud, cynical, and extremely sexy man who happens to live where it gets fuckoff cold for a solid third of the year.

Except as she trudges closer, she can see his silhouette in the window. And the moment that interruption in the light jerk upright because he’s seen her, too.

Except he leaves that warm, cozy home they’ve made to meet her outside with his coat and slippers. And he kisses her burning cheek and steals her hunting gear and rambles about some idle nothing - and notes he’s got hot chocolate on the stove. 

Except once they’re in the mudroom, and her cold skin prickles at how balmy it is in here, he’s taking her hands and warming them in his. And he’s taking off her boots and grimacing in sympathy at the packed snow and agreeing it’s awful out there, she’s entirely correct, and he’ll be sure to have those poor cold feet in his lap as soon as possible. Yes, by the fire, of course, he’s not a madman.

Except he’s so delighted to have her back, so happy to have an excuse to pamper her. And Percy, with an impish delight, cocoons her in thick blankets and tugs her along to the little nest he’s made by the hearth. And Vex, impossibly, falls a little more in love with him every time he leads her through this dance.

Because Percy, as a man of fuckoff-cold Whitestone, has getting warm down to a science, and Vex can almost forget she was ever cold in the first place.

(She has her own thoughts on how two lovers could warm eachother up, of course - but she did fall in love with a clever man.)

[hood-ex]

I don't read the comics very often but I do watch Young Justice and I have been meaning to ask- Is Dick Grayson's portrayal different in the animated series from the comics?

Because he definitely seems very goofy to me, with some serious streak.

p.s" I am *very* new to this fandom and I hope that I haven't set off anyone with this question in my hyper-fixation quest.

I've actually answered this question a few times I think, but I answered them so long ago I hardly remember what I said. I've also not watched YJ in so long at this point that I'm not sure I can remember enough to comment on super specific things. And me having more comic knowledge now than I did when I first watched the show may also impact how I felt about it then vs. now. I'll try to dredge up some things though.

I feel like most Dick Grayson comic readers enjoy Dick's portrayal in Young Justice. I only watched Seasons 1-2 of YJ and some of S3, so I can't say whether or not Dick's portrayal in the later episodes or seasons are accurate.

In Young Justice, we see different sides to Dick. As Robin, he's more playful and expressive, and as Nightwing, he's more serious. In an old post of mine, I talked about these sides of him from the perspective of his comic counterpart:

I always see Dick as a mixture of serious and playful whether he's solo or working with a team. He's not just one at all times. When there's downtime or a mission that involves some simple beatings, he's more personable and willing to joke. When there's a serious situation where death is more likely, the serious demeanor falls into place. In Outsiders, Dick is serious when he's with the team, but he's playful and personable towards Roy at times. In Teen Titans, Dick is playful when they're giving some villains a beating, but he's very serious when Wally is hurt. In Nightwing, Dick is more chill when he's living his regular civilian life, and sometimes when he's out as Nightwing, his inner commentary is lighter. Like all things, his demeanor depends on the severity of the situation as well as whether the story is focusing on his civilian life or vigilante one.

By the time we got to YJ S2, the situation that was occurring was quite serious, and on top of that, Dick had experienced Jason's death at that point. Between those past losses and all the weight on Dick's shoulders from his responsibilities, it's no wonder that we got the more serious version of him in S2. So yeah, S1 Dick is more playful, which does reflect comic Dick's kind and more personable side. S2 shows Dick in leader mode, which also reflects comic Dick's leader side well.

If you want some examples of comic Dick's leader side, you can look at my old post here:

I think YJ at least does a decent job of showing Dick's duality in that sense. And it was nice in YJ for us to see Dick get that character development where he went from doing things on his own out of habit of working with Batman to learning how to be a more effective leader of a team.

Hm what else. Dick's manipulation/secret keeping in YJ is accurate (aka the whole Artemis and Kaldur situation). It's the "Batman" in him. This is something that's dealt with in the comics. Dick's friends in the comics may call him out for being too much like Batman or pulling some kind of Batman stunt. Oh and Dick wearing sunglasses in S1 to hide his identity... also accurate to his comic counterpart in keeping his identity to himself.

Then maybe one other thing I didn't necessarily like in S2 was that Dick was held back at the base to coordinate things rather than being out in the field. Which like. I guess makes sense for YJ because, if I'm remembering correctly, Dick was leading different squads of heroes. I guess it would make more sense for him to be in one central location where he could keep an eye on all teams at all times. However, in the comics, Dick would normally be out in the field with his team.

[asha-mage]

WoT S3, Episode 1 Assorted Thoughts

One fun detail about the opening scene that leapt out to me on re watch is that the camera takes time to linger on all the members of Liandrin's evil girl posse as their entering the Hall. Nice subtle bit of Foreshadowing.

Shout out to that one Yellow Sister who is just loving the drama. Hope she survived and is doing amazing.

One thing that's fascinating about this moment from an adaption perspective is that in the books, none of the Wondergirls ever get a moment of confrontation with Liandrin the way Nynaeve does here- in fact it's one of the original injustices that despite their heroism and everything they've been through their punished for supposedly 'running away'- a ruse meant to protect them from suspicion that might arise if it was none they where tied to Liandrin post her Darkfriend reveal. This is a bitter pill for all of them to swallow and is part of what motivates them to join the hunt and bring down Liandrin. But here Nynaeve gets that moment of confrontation- a chance to stand and accuse Liandrin in the Hall itself, lay bare her crimes for all to see. And it doesn't play out at all like Nynaeve or anyone else probably imagined it would- because of course it doesn't. The world is more complicated then that, and their are precious few moments of true triumphant justice to be had. I think it's a credit to the show's writers that it feels like it fits in the kind themeatic schema Jordan used.

God the effects and the combat in this scene just rule so HARD.

The way Tsutama just fucking WASTES Jeanie's warders is so hardcore

As an aside man Maksim's 'Thank the light! Jeaine! Chesmal!' is so freaking heartbreaking, because it's not like these are random sisters- their ones Ihvon and Maskim (and likely Alanna) know and probably like. Same with Nyomi's cold blooded 'I don't have to listen to your bullshit anymore' next scene. It really drives home the horror of the Black Ajah.

What if a friend you've known, maybe for decades or even centuries, was secretly working to kill you and destroy everything you believe in- you have inside jokes and a working rapport and yet they have committed their entire soul to destroying everything you hold dear, and would kill you in a heartbeat. God it's so awful and it rules.

I really hope we get more of Ispan. Her actress is so pretty and goes so hard despite not having any diaolge.

The cut in half Amyrlin seat framing Siuan as she and the others rush to cut off Liandrin's Evil Girl Posse is so *chef kiss* in terms of Foreshadowing.

It's so on brand for Alanna that she's ready to take on Liandrin's entire evil girl posse in front of the gates of Tar Valon with nothing but her Warders for backup.

Alright new content time, let's goooooo!

Holy FUCK Alanna you GO. Also bye two sisters I couldn't place in my id round up!

Bye Ivohn! Knew that was coming but still, you ruled. RIP a real one.

God Moiraine and Siuan in this scene are just so augahuaghuaga!

Woof that's a lot of dead Warders.

I really love the stone dust and debris on Nynaeve here, it really sells the raw carnage and destruction.

Two things- I really love that the show gives time to the Two Rivers folks as just a unit, and I also love Moiraine taking this moment to highlight one of the always present tensions in the books: who knows what, and who is telling who what. People like to boil down a lot of the conflict in WoT to 'miscommunication' but the truth is Jordan was fascinated by how people trust, and how they communicate and the things that poison that well. Glad to see the show picking up that theme.

Man if it aint peak Wonderboys behavior to UTTERLY and immediately ignore Moiraine's advice, at Mat's urging no less.

I am really glad their ruminating on the fact that killing Renna didn't make everything right with Egwene- it doesn't undo her trauma or lessen the burden of what she went through. However a triumphant it felt in the moment, violence can't heal or build, and that really is just a straight up central theme in WoT.

God. Mat's random bouts of the Old Tongue really are just incredibly unsettling aren't they?

SNAKES AND FOXES

Lanfear and Moiraine's scene is so so good. Exactly the kind of 4d mind chess I adore about this series.

Siuan is in such an interesting position right now contrasted with where she is in the books at this point- especially in her relationship with Egwene. In the books Siuan has all the leverage because it's not yet a question of if the Wondergirls want to be Aes Sedai or not. Moiraine has essentially passed custody of this trio to her, and the power dynamic is very clear. But with Siuan and Moiraine divided, and the Wondergirls very clearly in Moiraine's camp, she has far less leverage. She can't force Nynaeve and Egwene where she wants them. It's a good bit of set up for the later nuances of Egwene and Siuan's relationship.

Elayne is REALLY popping off in these back to back scenes.

I have to admit to a bit of disappointment at the arches being so truncated, but it's the same problem with Nynaeve's trip last season: to fully adapt these chapters you'd need devote a whole episode to them each a piece. And that just isn't feasible.

DELICIOUS Moiraine and Rand power struggle scene followed IMMEDIATELY by a Siuan and Egwene power struggle scene. So many kids disrespecting their mentors.

Everyone conituning to make progress Rizzing up Rand's LIs except for Rand, meanwhile Mat is playing knife based kissing games. They must both think Perrin knows what he's doing, and yet I know that Faile is on her way.

All of which is to say- the loser Wonderboy energy is entirely on point.

I love the mirror with Egwene and Rand's scene here about the arches, to their season 1 scene about the Women's Circle test.

Nynaveve and Mat's scene is so good.

BUBBLE OF EVIL SCENE AW YEAH

OHOHOHOHOH the symbolism of the axe destroying the ring, the cards being heroes of the horn! Not to mention all the deliberate juxtaposition of sex and violence.

Moiraine and Lan deliberately letting the situation get Worse before they help in order to push their point.

All the parting of ways are so gooooooood! Also can't wait for Faile to get her girl gang.

Nynaeve and Lan just killing it in every scene their in.

Moghedian freak behavior continues I love it. Also hi Jaichim! Wasn't expecting to see you! Believe it or not this probably a better fate then you got in canon, so rejoice!

[the-oblivious-writer]

Touch Tank

Tara Carpenter x Reader

One-shot

Summary: Tensions are high when you go over to the Carpenters' apartment after telling Tara you would fix their sink; Sam isn't exactly what you would call your 'biggest fan'

Warning(s): Swearing, Tara & R aren't together, & no pronouns used

Notes: Another work based off of Gilmore Girls! Currently re-watching it and I'm slowly inching towards s3 ep 19... I'm avoiding it like the plague (I wanna stay in literali bliss just a lil longer 😔)

4/7 for Seven Days of Christmas

You made the mistake of agreeing to fix Tara’s sink.

Somehow Tara roped you into agreeing. Plumbers were expensive, and with paying rent in New York while also paying for college, they were already on a tight budget. You offered them a cheaper price, and you honestly didn’t mind giving Tara a favor.

That was before you remembered Sam would be there too.

You have known Tara all of five months, and in that time you haven’t exactly left the best impression on her older sister. Sam has already caught you sneaking in ten times—you got lucky every other time—and it didn’t help that you had an attitude. 

Tara wanted nothing more than for Sam to get to know you—to not just go off the you she made up in her head. So, when Sam found out you would be coming to fix their kitchen sink… she figured it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to give you another shot. Besides, she was doing this for Tara. She wasn’t sure as to why Tara was so persistent on it, but all she knows is that Tara wants you and her to get along. 

—

You walk up the stairs to the shared apartment after getting buzzed in by Tara. Once you get to the door you knock and the door opens.

“Hey,” Tara greets.

“Hey back,” you reply. Tara moves to the side, letting you in. Once you’re inside you look at Tara once again before smiling to yourself.

“You’re very punctual,” she remarked—watching as your eyes wandered.

“Yeah, well, it was either this or more apartment hunting with Danny.”

“You’re moving?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Don’t really get the point—the apartment’s fine. He says there’s ‘interior damage’ or whatever. Nothing I can’t fix.”

“Who knows; a new place could be nice.”

“I guess. He’s kinda eyeing the vacant apartment that’s not too far from yours.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… not saying it’s a sure thing but if we do move, can you promise you won’t get sick of me?”

“Sick of that face? Never…” She gently pinched your cheek teasingly; heat rushed to your face. 

“Did you change your hair?” You asked suddenly, changing the subject.

“What?”

“Your hair looks…different.”

“So segway’s not your thing, huh?” 

“Is it?” 

“Uh, no. I wear it like this a lot. Why?”

“Just…” You shrug, “Different.”

“Oh. Bad ‘different’?” She tugged on the hem of her shirt, suddenly feeling nervous for some reason. 

You smirk, about to answer her question, but turn your head when you hear a noise coming from down the hall. It sounded like Sam yelling a curse before Tara looked back at you with a light chuckle.

“The sink hasn’t been putting her in the best mood,” she elaborates. 

“She’s usually in a good mood?” You quip with raised eyebrows, tone laced in sarcasm. Tara scolds you with a look, causing you to back down. “Alright, alright.” 

“This fucking sink is driving me insane–” Sam cuts herself off, stopping in her tracks when she sees you. 

“Oh. Y/N. You’re here,” she says and you simply nod at her words. “Refreshing to see you use the front door for once…” She murmurs but you and Tara hear it. Tara scolds her with the same look she gave you just moments before. 

“If you want there’s Dr. Pepper in the kitchen,” Sam reluctantly offered. You looked at Tara then at Sam before briefly nodding. 

After a few seconds of silence, Sam clears her throat. “Okay, well, everything’s in the kitchen if you want to get started. The toolbox, and gloves are all there. If you need anything else just call one of us.” 

Tara looks between you and Sam before speaking up, “Come on, I’ll show you.” She extends her hand, gesturing to the direction of the kitchen. You begin to walk in that direction but before Tara follows behind, she gives Sam a look.

“I’m trying,” Sam huffed. 

“Well keep it up pleasee,” Tara requested as she walked away to the kitchen. 

By the time she was there, you were already setting up. “Question,” She states.

“Yes?” You put the pair of gloves in your back pocket, looking over at Tara.

“You come over. You seem to have a very firm grasp of the English language. You put together several full sentences—even using a couple of words that contain two or more syllables. And then my sister appears, and suddenly we need a thought bubble over your head to understand what you’re thinking. Can you tell me why that is?”

You looked down at the four-way silicone key in your hand before looking at Tara again with a  response. “The verbal thing comes and goes.” 

Tara sighed, lightly rolling her eyes. “I would really appreciate it if you would try to get along with my sister.”

“I took the Dr. Pepper,” you stated as a matter of factly. 

She furrowed her eyebrows, “I know.”

“Personally, I think it’s a little crazy to put lemon in Dr. Pepper—buuuut I took it anyhow.” You reached for the bucket and rag as you heard Tara huff.

“Stop it.”

“Ooo, stern face,” you say as you lift the tool and bucket to place by the sink. Tara continues, following you as you crouched down by the sink.

“Look. I went out on a limb for you, trying to get my sister to give you the benefit of the doubt. Okay? So, I don’t think it would hurt you to try to be nice.”

You put down the wrench you had just picked up, now fully turned and standing to look at Tara as you spoke. “Why?” You simply asked, taking off your jacket.

“Why?” Tara mirrored.

“Yeah. Why?” 

“Because she’s my sister—and she and Danny are dating.”

“So?” You tossed your jacket on top of a nearby chair.

“What do you mean ‘so’?” She asked incredulously; her eyebrows stayed furrowed.

“So, just because she’s your sister or Danny’s girlfriend doesn’t mean that I automatically have to get along with her,” you stated with pure conviction, rolling up your sleeves. 

“Y/N, my sister is a great person. She’s also my best friend—so if you care about me at all you will take that into consideration,” Tara was now crossing her arms as she stood her ground. “And you will be mildly polite to her.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, looking her up and down before responding. “What makes you think I care about you?” Tara didn’t need eyes to know you were smirking and enjoying this way too much.

She blushes, looking down at the ground and shaking her head as she grows flustered. “I–I don’t mean care-care. Like—care. I mean if you like me at all—not like-like! I just meant that–” Tara stumbles over her words, tucking in a loose strand of hair behind her ear. You watch her with amusement, a soft smile grazing your face as you let out a light snort.

“If you think of me remotely as the sort of person you could occasionally stand to talk to then you will try to get along with my sister. That’s all.” 

Your eyes never pulled from her once, only looking at her with fondness as you finally said something. “Okay,” you nod.

“Okay?”

“Can’t guarantee that it’ll work but I’ll try,” you confirm. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome…” You glance at the sink then back at Tara. “Should probably get to work.”

“Right. Sorry—go ahead.” She turns to walk away, looking at you one more time before leaving the kitchen. You crouch down by the sink again, not meeting her gaze but feeling it. She doesn’t see how you grin to yourself; your mind being plagued with thoughts of the younger Carpenter.

Guess it wouldn’t hurt to make an effort. 

—

Later that night, you decided to stop by Tara’s window for a surprise visit. You looked at her for a few seconds—admiring how peaceful she looked—before lightly tapping on her window. She turned to look at the window, a grin grazing her face when her eyes meets yours.

She lifted the window with a smile as you looked up at her fondly. “Hey,” you finally said after the window fully opened, expression never faltering as you leaned your head against the window frame.

“Hey back,” she replied. “Didn’t you say something to Sam about not coming through the window anymore.” Tara heard from Sam that you managed to hold somewhat of a conversation with the older Carpenter, actually making an effort to try with her. No matter how awkward it might have been on your end, at least you tried.

“You talk about me with Sam?” You asked smugly.

She rolled her eyes with an infectious smile. “Just get inside.”

“I didn’t hear a no~” You say in a sing-song voice. Tara pulled you in by your sleeve, roughly, might you add. “Watch the shirt,” you complain while you’re pulled inside her room.

“Quirk it.”

“How gentle,” you sarcastically complimented; you dusted your pants off with your free hand, not commenting on how Tara still held a grip on your other arm. 

“So,” Tara began as she sat on her bed—dragging you with her, “What are we watching tonight?”

“I can’t do Freaky Friday again.”

“Fine.”

“How about Cursed?” You inquired. Tara was leaning her back against your chest; she looked up at you with those beautiful brown eyes.

“That movie’s terrible.”

“One-hundred percent, but Milo Ventimiglia is in it.”

“Doesn’t he only have like six minutes of screen time?”

“But in it, nevertheless.”

“You drive a hard bargain… Get the laptop?”

You respond by reaching over to the night stand, grabbing her laptop. You hand it to her and she opens it on her lap. 

Tara would never comment on how she was the only one who got this side of you—the gentle, kind, and considerate side. Well, when she wants to see you squirm she comments on it. But for now, she’ll keep it to it herself.

-----------

A/N: the urge to write a paper on how jess mariano is a truly misunderstood character grows each & each day...

(I got beef with star hallows. we leave it at that.)

[etoilesombre]

Hi im a new here i finally watched black sails after someone convinced me. And im changed. I'm. Yeah. I'm not who i was before. It's a bizarrely good show?

I'm so so so glad that so many ppl on ao3 agree with me that flint and silver need to fuck. Have fucked. Will fuck.

This will be all i think about for the next month or so.

If you have fic recs do let me know. I'm in dire need.

Hi my friend and welcome to hell! It's the best, right? ("Month" is a HIGHLY optimistic estimate about how long this will consume your brain...)

So honored that you asked for recs! I don't think I've ever compiled a general list of favorites, I had a great time and I think I'm happy with the results. This is by no means comprehensive, and obviously HIGHLY reflective of my own tastes, which are... uh.. I am known to not enjoy nice things very much. I invite others to reblog with their own favorites. Here we go...

Notes: These are in vaguely chronological order. I'm including word count and brief descriptions so you know what you're getting into but no warnings or anything, that's all on AO3. They are all silverflint and all explicit (I think, there might be one or two 'mature' in there but, this is the they need to, have, and will fuck list.) I didn't include any of my own work because presumably that's how you found my blog so you're aware, but I do have a pinned list, and if you want recs for mine or to talk about any of these just message, I will talk about silverflint all day.

Overall Recommendations:

The Most Unexpected Things by forbiddenarchives (~20k words) I think this one is a great starting point. It is very.. fic flavored fic, if that makes sense, in a great way. Hits the spot. The author's description is "season 2 if everyone were 5000% hornier" and that is accurate. Note this is marked as unfinished, but the place it wraps up feels totally reasonable to me.

As Good as Gone by spinninginfinityboy (~5.5k words) Complicated hot weird semi-hate sex on the way to Charles Town. A thing with a Spanish Dubloon that is emblazoned on my brain forever.

Combat by equestrianstatue (~10k words) A two part series, which I think captures the push-pull early frenemies vibe of s1-2 perfectly. Also the writing itself is stellar.

All alone in a moonlit shanty by PrimalScream (4.3k) Celebrating a good day hunting, Flint gets very drunk and tells the crew a dirty story. Silver tries to put him to bed, but he has different ideas. By far one of the lighter things on this list.

after the winnowing by princesskay (~14k) Set after Silver loses his leg, early in his recovery. Silk pajamas, multiple orgasms and overstimulation as well as their usual codependent fuckery.

What It Feels Like Not to Hurt by Robotboy (~9k) Another recovery fic. As the author says, it's 9k of slowburn watersports but really it's about Silver's pain and autonomy and humiliation and. Just. Even if it's not your usual cup of tea it's hot, give it a try.

vigia by doomcountry (~3k) A short, perfect rendering of their dynamic during early s3 raid times. Heartwrenching character study, excellent porn.

The Sack of James Flint by princesskay (~107k) So, yes, this is a novel length sub!Flint cock and ball torture series. I would make the argument that it is one of the best character studies in the fandom, for real. Absolutely worth your time, but fuck, it hurts your heart as much as your captain's balls in the end.

Concurrence by ember_firedrake (~2.5k) Mid s3. The first time they call each other by their first names. Now, that's not actually a thing I think they do, but, good porn and lower angst.

appreciation by nysscientia (~8k) Flint cultivates a certain aloof persona, but Silver sees right through it, and eventually they kiss about it.

Don't Fear The Ships (Fear The Black) by Farasha (~10k) - Silverflint use learning to sail as a coded way to flirt and talk about feelings (and eventually they kiss about it).

A Ship Is A Republic by Robotboy (~20k) A slow burn fic set during the inter-season sword training times. Love this dynamic, this author does power bottom Flint and sub Silver so fucking well.

deliverance is ours by the light of the stars by piratecaptainraven (3.1k) Flint sees Silver and Madi together, and doesn't stop watching when he should. They don't technically fuck in this, but its SO much pining, and the writing is poetic and gorgeous.

frail and fragile bars by ajaxthegreat (~21k) Possibly the hottest thing I've ever read, this rewrote my brain chemistry. Slow burn-ish. It captures that late season love and dependence and resentment and power struggle.

Cold, Dark, Depraved by notfelix (~10k) When fucking fixes absolutely nothing. This hurts in a way that feels, to me, similar to canon. I hate it (affectionate).

Opportunist by anonymous (~6.1k) This was part of the kinkmeme event (see below) and it fucking changed me. If I recommend one fic and only one fic to process the ending, it's this. It's awful. It's necrophilia and light cannibalism. It's the only thing I can imagine happening after, if Silver actually shoots Flint on that island. It makes me feel bad in the best way.

hand in unlovable hand by brinnanza, Jaynovz (~9.9k) Affectionately known as the worst ending AU, this is actually a great followup to the last one. How Silver copes, after Skeleton Island.

Bonus: AUs. I don't generally read AUs, but these two worked for me, in very different ways that still felt very silverflint.

did the twin flame bruise paint you blue by Jaynovz (138k) Novel length mod AU where silverflint broke up, and we see their relationship along two different timelines, before and after. Toxic fucked up goodness, lots of BDSM dynamics, bonus silvervane! All set in NYC.

holy ghost fire by ajaxthegreat (~52k) Appalachia horror au! The author clearly knows the area, and silverflint is already a ghost story, so it works really well. If you've ever been there you'll know how right it feels, if not, just trust me.

extra bonus: fic event collections and rec lists

kinkmeme

built on sand

beach blanket black sails

@jaynovz has also compiled a number of much more specific rec lists, which can be found at #jay's esoteric rec lists

[aardvaark]

Throughout leverage we see multiple different people driving the team/groups. Parker with the "I was taught to run from the cops", Sophie with the "taxi driver in Istanbul (citation needed)", Eliot with "I am getting us there in 5 minutes or less"... So what is your headcanon for how they decide who drives? Does Nate have a specific set of criteria where he picks who drives? Do they argue about who drives?

well, a lot of places they go, they need minimum two vehicles: hardison's van for tech (i think its only got two actual seats, though im sure people have had to sit in the back & get thrown around lol) and at least one car for other people/general driving. hardison tends to drive lucille so thats one down. if eliot's around to drive, he's probably driving the second car. if not, then nate, then sophie, then parker*. when hardison isn't driving lucille, he's probably as likely to drive as nate or sophie. and when tara's there, i doubt she has driving privileges lol.

in s1, i doubt they're carpooling much. like, they'd drive from their homes to the hq to the job themselves, and only go in the same car to do some quick task. later, they treat nate's apartment as home base and are frequently there for very little reason lmao, so thats when they actually have to plan more about who drives. obviously it heavily depends on how many cars are required and who's doing what. but. it seems like it's often nate driving with sophie as passenger, eliot driving himself or with parker as passenger, and hardison driving himself or with parker as passenger.

*detailed explanation of their individual driving under the cut:

parker is a genuinely great getaway driver, so her skills are useful in that type of situation... but i think 99% of the time, when they're not requiring a quick getaway, she is BANNED from driving. sophie even said so somewhere in s3, i dont remember exactly. canonically she can drive perfectly normally too (eg her driving with tara in the s2 finale) to be fair. she just doesnt want to lol. the stuff she has in her own car (both useful items and "decoration") is somewhat disturbing and very confusing. a lot of it is sharp. or a chemical hazard.

sophie drives sometimes but her driving can be... questionable, occasionally (ie big bang job). the (alleged) fact she learnt to drive from a taxi driver in istanbul seems to imply she didn't learnt to drive later than most, when she was traveling a lot? her attitude of "if i'm doing my job right, the mark just turns off the alarm for me" makes me think she'd apply the same logic here and would've done more hitchhiking & public transport than driving when she was first starting out, but over time got herself a car and learnt to drive because its kinda a safety thing in her line of work (need a getaway). all this to say, she can drive and she might have a nice car but its not her priority, you know?

nate drives sophie, some mix of her thinking its chivalrous and him having some ingrained ideas about male gender roles, but also just personal preferences. and a little bit because hes seen some of her questionable driving choices. once they're together, this changes to a more even split. also nate is def a backseat driver (like, regardless of who's driving/their skill level) and has been kicked out of a car at least once.

hardison is also mostly fine to drive or not drive like sophie. he'll bicker with eliot about who drives but mostly that's just an extension of their ongoing bickering saga. every time one of his lucilles gets exploded or whatever, he has a period of mourning and takes a couple weeks before he'll let other people drive the next incarnation of lucille - and to be fair thats usually because one of them was responsible for killing lucille.

eliot doesn't let other people drive his car (unless its absolutely necessary for a con - see: the boost job). he only begrudgingly lets people IN his car because SOMEONE spilled slushie all over it one time and yes he will continue to bring that up a decade later, hardison. i think being around the team has made him become one of those people who has strict rules for being in his car lol - no food/drink, no leaving anything in the car that doesnt have to be there. obviously the team break these rules all the time.

and the definition of what is a "necessity" and can therefore stay in the car is a BIG ongoing debate. some items of interest on the "necessity" list: gift wrapping paper, one (1) shiny thing, a gaming console, chloroform, a neatly packed bag of spare clothes, at least one dress hanging up with a dust cover, 3-5 CDs (which must be individually approved before being added to the car and only one of which can be christmas-related), spare reading glasses, cables that eliot annoyingly can't veto because he doesn't understand that stuff enough to argue, aluminium foil, and a pack of hair ties.

some things that have been BANNED: food & drink, glitter (there was an incident), nail polish (there was more than one incident), most tech stuff ("that's why you have lucille!"), secret money stashes, anything considered priceless by art experts, "surprises", and live animals.

i would love a road trip episode where most/all of them are taking turns driving and are stuck together in a vehicle for ages. also i now have the urge to go through the series and actually chart who drives.

lol thank you very much for the ask and ik the length is crazy but i hope this is a good answer haha.

[all-pacas]

Can you go into a bit more about all the times Chase has been unnecessarily jealous?

so even though fandom/hameron shippers/etc tend to take it as a Canon Fact, chase is actually the only person to suspect that fwb-era cameron is trying to make house jealous. he brings it up repeatedly, in top secret and fetal position. chase is generally speaking perceptive and tends to be pretty spot on about cameron in particular, but cameron actually doesn't seem too concerned with house's feelings — she's a little bothered, but also very much keeps sleeping with chase after house knows, even if getting a reaction from house was the goal… well, cameron failed, and isn't too upset about it. cameron never pursues house after s1 (and from s1 we know she would have if she felt she had a chance), and yet chase alone is sure she is madly in love with him.

half wit: quick and not a big deal, but when the kids show up at house's to tell him he doesn't have cancer, foreman has a line about how house should be "making out with cameron" and chase gives him a quick, unhappy look. i wouldn't call this unncessarily jealous tbh, but it does show that he's already worried about this.

no more mr nice guy: maybe house has an std, and chase is worried cameron slept with him. i'll cut him some slack, i think it's fair that he ask her… but not in front of literally everyone they know, and not the way he did, where he takes her refusal to answer as "proof" they slept together and is in a clear snit the rest of the episode. especially because he knows they never slept together; cameron says as much, in his presence, in half wit. and even if they had, it would have been long before he and cameron got together, so … whatever. but once again, chase is going around acting like he's in a love triangle when he truly is not.

saviors: chase briefly floats the idea that cameron is in love with house when he's trying to figure out why she's ghosting him. he doesn't seem all that concerned about it, or all that convinced of the theory. i kind of give him a pass for this one -- he's trying to figure out why she's ghosting him and has a right to be upset about it -- but again: when chase is feeling insecure, he immediately jumps to cameron wants house, not me.

under my skin: chase's problem with the sperm is that he very clearly takes it as "cameron cares more about her dead husband than me." we see he spends most of the episode arguing that "she has [him] now," "she found someone [himself]", she likes "him" better. he eventually shifts this to "she doesn't really want to marry me, she isn't sure about us." i don't know if i'd say he's jealous of her dead husband, but he's absolutely insecure and, as usual, assuming he's cameron's second or third choice. luckily, this time chase gets over it pretty quickly and does the right thing (realizes she's obviously not in love with her dead husband, and just has trouble letting go).

lockdown: the big one! chase immediately moves the goalposts from i murdered a guy and my wife left me to my wife actually never loved me in the first place. this is a huge fucking retcon, but sadly it's completely in line with chase (and even he later admits, in the episode, that "if you never loved me, i never did anything wrong", that it is self-protection and he knows it is not true). but as usual, when chase is feeling insecure, he jumps straight to cameron wanted anyone but me. (in s3, foreman makes a whole point about how cameron dumping chase is out of character because when has cameron ever been apathetic?; funny how in lockdown chase falls into the same trap again.)

in a very lukewarm defense of chase: considering his parents and his own issues, i do sympathize a little with him; he is used to love needing to be earned and conditional and being taken away, i think he probably really does feel like he's second or third best for cameron and worries she, like his parents, will eventually leave him because he isn't good enough for them. that said, boy is he a jealous little baby sometimes, and it is not one of his better qualities.

[izxz-is-deranged]

Baptism by Fire | Matt Murdock x BAU!Reader

Summary: You love your position at the BAU, but your life is uprooted when Hotch sends you on a temporary assignment to the FBI field office in New York. Apparently, someone had the bright idea to make a deal with a crime boss named Wilson Fisk, and now it's your job to build a profile to determine if the information he gives can be trusted. As you realize quickly things aren't as they seem, you must find a way to protect yourself- If protecting yourself has something to do with a masked vigilante... That's no fault of yours.

multiple crossovers | slow burn

A/N: Starts about ep3 of S3 of Daredevil! Reader uses a fake name, and can be seen as an original character if desired. Future storylines may involve Reader's past coming back to haunt her (Supernatural) and the trials and tribulations of her day job (Criminal Minds)

< ao3 link > <Masterlist>

2: Into the Flame

No amount of file reading or debriefing could’ve prepared you for the fact that the “secure location” was a penthouse in downtown New York City.

For a convict, a dangerous, unstable, convict, to be removed from a cell and placed into a spacious top-floor number with picture windows overlooking the skyline… A vile feeling sinks in your gut, coupled by the rhythmic and muffled chanting of protesters as your driver pulls you into the early morning scene. Your department would never make a deal like this with an unsub. You take a deep breathe- You just had to trust they knew what they were doing.

You step out of the car, boots colliding with the sidewalk and waving off the driver. You are smartly dressed, dark button down, slacks, with a large overcoat to protect from the biting cold. Nobody pays you any attention as you step into the scene, analytical eyes scanning. 

Cops mill, corralling and circling the protesters like herding dogs. The protesters themselves are not violent, but merely loud as they repeat their slogans and mantras. Statistically, protests were always more violent because of police presence and escalation, so you eye the officers warily. Agents dotted the outskirts, some managing entrances, or directing press as well as the unfortunate patrons of the hotel.

Only one person catches your eye.

He’s unremarkable, hidden off to the side of the entrance. He is not shouting along with the protest or wearing any badge… Just an oversized jacket, hat, round sunglasses, and a white cane nestled in his grip as he focuses his attention on the scene. He’s not dressed nice enough to be a guest here. It’s not lost on you that he’s out of place, and your instincts to find an outlier all rest on his shoulders.

You move closer, head cocked. Now, you see he’s talking to himself.

“Are you alright?” Your question is simple enough. Innocuous.

The man turns his head in surprise. You see his face clearly now (Well, as clear as you can under the hat and glasses.) He’s scruffy, with dark stubble and curled lips. The more alarming part was the split in those lips, the dried blood trickling from the cut on his head. He furrowed his brow, as if determining your motive.

“Yes. Fine.” His words are curt. They slice right into your chest. 

The thing about behavioral analysis is that sometimes you realize things you’d rather be ignorant of, like the bruises and blood on his knuckles as they curl around his cane. Eyes darting back and forth between the wounds on his face and his hands, if you didn’t know any better, you’d say this man had been in a fist fight- A decently violent one at that. But of course your brain is caught on the cane and dark glasses, this man was blind. What was a blind man doing throwing hands? Perhaps he just liked punching walls, but walls don’t exactly hit back.

“Excuse me,” he says politely, turning to leave.

You let him go, eyebrows knitting. As the enigma leaves, you return your focus back to your assignment. You had to find an Agent Ray Nadeem.

When you do, he’s waving off a blonde woman, who all but storms away from him. He’s tall, with dark eyes, large nose, and stress lining his face. Floppy black hair and a bandage fall over his forehead. You approach, breaking his persona down. He seemed nervous, on edge, which was normal considering the events last night. He was apparently the agent that got Fisk talking in the first place, and was now in charge of the investigation. The pressure was probably already intense- and only doubling down after a body count was added.

He waves you off as you approach. “I’m done with the press for today, Ma’am.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m Agent Wren Singer from the BAU. You must be Agent Nadeem.”

He inhales sharply, embarrassed. He reaches his hand out to shake yours. “Sorry. It’s been a long… Just- Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure if my superiors took my request seriously.”

“Of course. Sorry for your loss.” You smile gently.

“Yeah… Let’s just hope this bastard makes it worth it.”

~

Nadeem takes you through the building, keeping all talk very down to business. It seemed the FBI had agents monitoring almost every inch of this place. The building, this “Presidential Hotel” was nothing short of luxurious, with high ceilings and ornate molding covering every inch. Pristine tile glistens as you walk towards elevators, heart thumping. 

The ride up is the longest elevator ride you’ve ever had the pleasure of having. 

“I’m going to take you up to introduce you to the other Agents and…” He nods his head back and forth, not needing to say his name. “...Will that help with profiling him? I’m not a psychologist. I’m not  exactly sure how it works.” He sucks in a breath.

“Yes,” you assure. “Speaking with him will help me get a sense of what’s going on in his head. I already have access to as much of his criminal history as possible, so that should fill in any gaps I don’t catch.”

“How long will it take for you to get a profile down?”

You smile. “Tomorrow morning at the latest.”

He nods again. It seems less in response to you and more for himself. A nervous habit, you note, as if he has to reassure internally that he’s doing the right thing.

The elevator door dings open into an equally nice area as the lobby, You swallow, following Nadeem into the space. He brings you around, showing the area where they’ve set up a monitoring system, introducing you to the Agents there. Apparently, Fisk's lawyers were in with him, so you are only delayed by a few minutes.

When they’ve finished, Nadeem takes you towards the doors. He opens them, holding one open for you to step in. Instead of the warm tones that cloak the other areas of the hotel, all manner of color had been drained from this unit, leaving a stark modern grey and white color scheme. It feels colder here. And like a boulder facing the window, Wilson Fisk stands with his hands clasped around his back. His jumpsuit was a deep soot grey, not allowing contrast between him and his environment. He was huge, and cast a shadow across the floor from where he stood.

“Fisk. This is-”

“I’m Agent Wren Singer from the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. How are you this morning?”

He doesn’t respond to your question, instead turning slowly while churning his hands. 

Nadeem speaks up, “She’s just here to speak with you. You may request your lawyers if desired but the cameras stay on.”

“No, no… That’s fine,” Fisk responds, voice like gravel and thunder.

Nadeem turns to you, dropping his voice into a low whisper, “Would you like me to stay?”

You shake your head, wishing him silent goodbyes as he steps out of the room. You walk further in and can feel Fisk’s eyes follow your every movement.

“Wren, was it?”

You feel a sensation like ice water down your back as he repeats your name. Even if it wasn’t your real, given name, it felt intimate in a way you didn’t appreciate. This was most likely a tactic to put you on the back foot, referring to you so casually instead of “Agent Singer”. You hold your head high. Two could be cunning.

“They were my mother’s favorite bird,” you explain, offering a truth of yourself as a way to bridge trust between you two.

He hums. It's a sound that emanates from his chest and reverberates like stone hitting stone. “ ‘The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch.’ ”

“Shakespeare.”

“You recognize it?”

“The humanities are not lost on me, Mr. Fisk,” you tilt your head, “Though that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

He straightens. “You’re here to profile me, Miss Singer. Tell me, what does that entail? Assumption made by yourself against me, based on my actions? Who are you to judge my character?”

“I’m not here to judge. I’m here to understand.”

“Understand,” Fisk repeats, “And what do you aim to understand about me?”

“Motive. Mentality. To consult on whether or not we should trust the information you give us.” There’s not a reason to lie about what it is you’re doing, not yet. Your voice is deceptively calm, using every bone of training in your body to keep yourself professional and collected.

Fisk wanders over, closer to you. He’s almost double your size, and while you’d been up against some scary unsubs before in your career, never a man so physically imposing. Something about the way he carried himself, the twitching hands, the darting eyes, if you didn’t know better, you’d assume a spectrum diagnosis.

“The BAU… They work with serial killers, correct?”

“Yes,” you affirm, squaring your shoulders and leveling your voice, “But we consult on a whole manner of cases.”

“Do you think I’m a killer?”

“Are you?”

The closest thing to a laugh escapes his mouth. 

“I thought you were supposed to know everything about me from your first glance, Miss Singer.”

Defensive. Any crimes he’s committed he feels fully justified in. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to ask,” you retort, “I find it’s more polite.”

Fisk was an incredibly smart man. It was an obvious conclusion from his choice of words, and from the way he guides the conversation to his own end. Which you allow him to do. You could feel the profile nearly writing itself in your head in response. After a few more minutes of respectful talking, you form a framework for your goals here. Right as you’re about to leave, Fisk speaks back up.

“It was a pleasure, Miss Singer. A surprise, of course, but not an unwelcome one.”

~

When you leave the room, you release a breath you weren’t even aware you were holding. 

Nadeem is waiting for you, along with a no-nonsense type woman and a decently battered man. They stand, the woman talking furiously under her breath until you approach, where she turns quickly, head leveling.

“Agent Singer- This is Agent Hattley, my superior,” Nadeem introduces, gesturing to the brunette woman, “And this is Agent Poindexter. I was just filling them in.”

“Pleasure,” you smile, eyes flicking between the two.

Hattley tilts her head, eyeing you carefully. You can’t figure out why, all you can guess is that she’s confused as to why the BAU sent their youngest member. You hated the way people assumed you weren’t capable because of your age. Just cause you weren’t in your 40s didn’t mean you didn’t have a handle on your job.

All Hattley does is smile in response, then say goodbye and take off. You furrow your brow in her direction, following her as she walks out. What’s her deal?

“Don’t mind her- She’s not much of a talker,” Nadeem offers as consolation. “Dex here is much better company anyways. He’s the reason we survived the attack on the motorcade.”

“Ma’am,” Dex greets. He had sharp features and a wide smile that didn’t fully reach his eyes. A lot of combat agents had that look though, and by the squaring of his shoulders, you assume he’s also ex-military. He talks again, nodding towards Fisk’s doors, “You seemed to be gettin’ real chummy in there.”

“Unfortunately, it’s part of my job, getting into a monster's head,” you comment, his implications a little too clear. “I might be good at it but I don’t enjoy it.”

“Then why do it at all?” He shrugs, smiling innocently.

You couldn’t tell what he was doing, but a resentment was bleeding through his words that you didn’t appreciate. You squint, looking over him again. There was something you were missing, but you couldn’t put your finger on it yet.

“We’re lucky to have her help,” Nadeem adds, interrupting your thought process. “You figure out what you needed to in there?”

“Almost everything.”

If you need anything else, you’ll come back later. The only thing that circled through your head like a record on repeat was the ‘why’. From all you could tell, Fisk was a narcissist with sociopathic tendencies and autistic traits. The thing that ate at you though was that Fisk was manipulative. He was self-serving. He used people for his own gain, so why was it that he was willing to sacrifice his criminal standing to work with the FBI for his wife, Vanessa Marianna? To put everything on the line for another person goes against the profile that was being built in your head, so what were you missing?

That was the almost, and you had a feeling that the reason lay somewhere in his past. Something that wasn’t part of the files, which meant one thing.

You had to go digging.

A/n: If you want to be added to the tag list- Drop an ask!