#otp; heat waves

[totentnz]

for this pride month consider outsourcing your dick.

[natalievoncatte]

Kara knows, and that’s the problem.

She knows.

How does she know?

To put it simply, she’s Kryptonian. More specifically: a Kryptonian under a yellow sun, whose wavelengths of light bring forth her genetic heritage when she basks in its rays. If long lost Rao was once her father, Sol is her mother, raising her up to be all that she can be. A creation of a lost super-science, a power to rival gods, a force that made the Guardians tremble in their emerald tower.

Kara can see everything.

The world is alive with light. It cascades and bounces and caroms off of everything. More than that, Kara’s world is bathed in a thousand thousand hues the human eye will never know. When she looks at a person she can see the electrical conductivity of their skin and the heat bloom of their flesh and a myriad of other details, some of which other humans can pick up on a subconscious level, others that humans haven’t even discovered yet.

Kara can hear everything.

She can hear dog whistles and butterfly wings beating and the secret language of cats. She can hear the crackle of radio waves beating the atmosphere and the music of the spheres. She can memorize human heartbeats and pick out the slightest variation, the tiniest wobble that the owner of the heart never feels.

Kara can smell everything. She can sift between the scents of ingredients in her honey bun, detect poisons in a friend’s wine or flowers in a park half a state away. Sharks would be jealous of her. She can scent people but also their moods; fear smells horrific, sickly sweet and rotten. Joy smells hot and bold. When someone walks in the room, she can tell what they had for breakfast, smell of they’re sick, pick out the fragrances of their emotions.

Kara can feel everything. A touch can betray or affirm. To hear a heartbeat is one thing, to feel it another. Her fingertips can read the surface of another’s skin like braille and she can detect the slightest changes in temperature or perspiration, feel the thrum of contentment or fear in an embrace. Her touch is not dulled by her invulnerability. It as sensitive as her other senses.

Kara can remember everything. The day she stepped from her pod into the brilliant golden sunlight beneath a blue sky was the last time she would every forget; her now empowered brain can recall events in the finest detail, down to the soft timbre of another’s voice or the way her hair fell over her shoulder or the softness in her gaze. And so Kara’s memory is hers to be kept forever, never to lose the sight of her.

That is how Kara knows, and knowing that Lena Luthor loves her is a pain so terrible that she almost wishes she could be spared that pain. When Lena sees Kara, her heart leaps and her breath softens and she comes alive with light, bathed in an auric glow more beautiful than a red sunrise. Kara wishes that Lena could see herself as Kara sees her. Radiant, angelic, a little holy.

Lena loves Kara Danvers, the bumbling awkward nerdy shy girl from Vaguely Canada who brings her burgers and donuts and OTPs.

She doesn’t love Supergirl and Kara doesn’t think she could.

That’s how the torture happens. Kara’s infinite perception becomes a self-imposed exile. She sees and smells the way James lusts after Lena, right in front of her. Baffled, she listens to the calm in her heart when they kiss and once she wakes frantically in the night, reaching about to sift through the city soundscape when she hears Lena’s voice cry out, then the sound of Lena’s heart racing and other sounds, and not for the first time, she pleads with a god she doesn’t know to make her human and free her from this curse.

She seeks feeling of her own. It’s pleasant enough but it lacks something undefinable, like a pleasant chocolate cake that becomes unbearable because she could have had something far sweeter and more filling instead. He tries in a fumbling way but it’s to please his own ego more than sate her desire. Then one day he is gone and in his absence all Kara can feel is a dull numbness, a ragged wound with all the nerves scraped out so that only a dull absence has been left behind, leaving her broken in a way that cannot be defined much less repaired.

Kara cannot help but snap her attention to the sound of Lena growing agitated, no matter how distant or minor. She hears harsh words and the heavy thud of a limo door closing and hears the sharp intake of breath as James realizes the mistake he’s made, and though he is her friend and he matters to him she feels a feral, possessive joy that borders on the cruel. It is a hard feeling, a red feeling, a sharp smelling mean feeling that tastes cold on her tongue, this resentment of the man for having a pale shadow of what she could have but wouldn’t.

Lena loves Kara Danvers and Kara Danvers loves her back, but she can never know because to know she must know all of her. Know the Other, the Super, the Alien.

Kara is two people and one of those people has been, well, a bitch.

Because Kara feels spending else. A green feeling, a sick feeling, the feeling of blades flensing flesh from bone while her veins turn to glass and her body burns to ash, the shocking pain of a little piece of home. A little piece that Lena made and didn’t tell her, and Kara makes the worst mistake.

She stops being Supergirl and is just Kara Danvers in a colorful suit, angrily refusing to ask Lena the question: I love you, how could you do this to me?

She does love her. She loves her laugh and her secret smiles and how soft she looks when she’s deep in thought. She loves the pain in her, the mirror of her own. She cherishes it as she wants hers to be cherished, held close by someone who knows what it’s like to watch your world explode or slip beneath still waters and be gone forever. She knows what it’s like to wonder what could have been and know the price you paid for what you have now.

She wants Lena so terribly that she’d almost choose the pain of Kryptonite instead of an eternity of this longing. She needs her, craves her, thirsts for her.

One night Kara realizes what she’s been doomed to. Another will succeed where James failed, and Kara will be spared none of it, and it will endure forever. She will carry memories of Lena in another’s arms into the sun dies.

No.

“I don’t know why I agreed to this,” Lena says.

Kara -Supergirl- says nothing at first.

“I have to fly you.”

Lena nods. She’s doing this for Kara, because Kara asked. When Supergirl extends a hand, Lena takes it and Kara gently lifts her from the ground into a bridal carry, and they fly.

The trip takes nearly an hour. Kara can’t fly too fast or too high. Lena accepts it without complaint.

They land far north of National City, where the warmer climate yields to deciduous rainforest. Kara brings them down on a bare hilltop, an island in a vast ocean of trees. Nearby on a folding table is a basket. It might be important later or it might not. She might have a life of joy or she might spend the rest of forever in a wasteland, waking each day to grief.

There’s only one way to find out. Part of her, the part that hopes, the part that makes her Supergirl, believes in this, in herself, in this moment. She has to, because the chain of events that led her here, flung across endless space to stand in starlight with the most beautiful woman in this world, it demands that it happen. This is fate. It has to be.

Supergirl stands beside Lena. She raises an arm and points.

“There. Second star on the left, and straight on till morning.”

Lena quirks an eyebrow and looks at her.

“You brought me out here for this?”

“Do you see that red light?” Kara asks. “It’s very faint. I don’t know if a human can see it or not.”

“I just see stars.”

“It’s Rao, my sun. I can see him. If I had a powerful enough telescope, I could see it. Krypton. The explosion won’t be visible to Earth for a thousand years.”

Lena looks up, her features bathed in moonlight- alive with a chaotic explosion of hues she’ll never see. She blazes in the night, her eyes a kaleidoscope from which Kara can never truly look away. She’s a rainbow.

Kara falters. Whatever she does tonight, this is it. This is forever.

“You said Kara would meet me here,” Lena says.

“Wait here, please.”

Kara turns quickly and walks into the dark, cape spreading behind her. Once she’s out of sight, she changes without restraining her speed, and walks back to Lena in a hoodie and leggings, hair in a loose ponytail and the back of her neck and hands in her pockets.

She walks back to Lena and stands beside her.

“Hello, Kara.”

“Hi, Lena.”

There is a tense silence between them. Kara devours the moment, consumes it so it will live forever, just in case this is the last time she sees Lena.

“We’re not far from the reservoir,” says Lena. “Why did you ask Supergirl to bring us here?”

Kara swallows hard. “I realized something really important near here.”

Lena turns to her. “What was that?”

“That there was someone who mattered to me a lot, and that I was willing to risk a lot to protect her. There was a moment where I thought I was going to have time make a choice, you or the chemicals. I didn’t have to but I would have. I would have picked you. I will always pick you. I can’t help it.”

Lena is not stunned. Her heart doesn’t miss a beat, but Kara can sense her apprehension, her fear, and something deeper than that.

“You’re Supergirl.”

Kara lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and her legs wobble. There it is. It’s done. She’s free.

“I should have told you sooner.”

“You should have. You should have told me when we fought about the Kryptonite. I thought you would, hoped you would. I wanted you to so desperately, wanted you to trust me.”

Kara’s heart sinks.

“Wait, you knew? How?”

Lena laughs softly.

“The way you touch me. When you pick me up and carry me somewhere, you have this way about you. When I’m in your arms I feel like I’m the most precious thing in the world.”

“You are,” Kara says.

“That and you told me you flew to my office on a bus.”

Kara makes a small, choked sound.

“Oh.”

Lena scuffs the heel of her boot against the ground.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared. I thought if I did, you’d see it as a confrontation and feel threatened. What about you?”

“I’m Kara. Supergirl is something I do, not what I am. When I’m with you I’m just me. I lose that with everyone when they find out. Kara isn’t my secret identity. Supergirl is. I’m just me. I just want to be me, I need to be me, and when I’m with you I am most myself. It’s like laying down all my burdens.”

“Same,” Lena said, softly. “You’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like an extension of my brother.”

Kara sighed. “Should we talk about the Kryptonite?”

“No,” Lena says. “Fuck the Kryptonite. Why’d you bring me out here?”

“To tell you.”

“Great, you told me. What did you think would happen next?”

“I thought you’d be mad.”

Lena nods and seems to think about that for a moment. Her pulse has quickened and her jaw is tight.

“Let me ask you a different question. What did you want to happen?”

Kara swallowed hard. “What I wanted was… for us to make up. Be friends. Work it out. I don’t want to lose you.”

Lena turns and looks at her.

“Bullshit.”

Kara flinches.

“That’s bullshit, Kara, and we both know it. You’re a terrible liar. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the staff at CatCo know who you are. Don’t lie to me. Please. Give me the truth.”

Kara looks up briefly, past Lena. She sees that faint red glow and her heart swells in her chest.

“I love you. That’s the truth. I’ve been in love with you probably since our first lunch together and I want you so badly that I can’t breathe when I think about it. I know a dozen languages and half of them aren’t from Earth, and there aren’t enough words in all of them to tell you how kind and wonderful and beautiful you are. I love you so much that sometimes I think,” Kara fights the tightening of her throat, “I think I’m almost glad that I’m here and not back up there under that red glow. I don’t think I could choose a life without you.”

Lena lets out a long breath and Kara is bombarded with sensations. Lena’s pulse races and her shoulders relax and her skin blooms with an ethereal luminous riot of color.

“I’ll never lie to you again. I promise.”

Kara can taste everything.

Right now the only thing she can taste is Lena.

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Drake is back... but that doesn't mean that it's a happy reunion...

Word Count: 4,300

Rating/Warnings: M (shouting, guilt-tripping, dangerous driving, swearing in multiple languages, one over-heated kiss)

Chapter theme song:

Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

I whirl around in disbelief. "Drake...!"

He's stood before me with two days' worth of stubble, regarding me with a long-suffering look.

But it really is him.

And I feel my heart swell, even though I can tell that he's not exactly best pleased to find me in a random antique shop in the middle of Rome.

The muscle in his jaw twitches. "I turn my back for one goddamn minute and—"

"What are you doing here?" I blurt.

"I can ask the same of you, Gale..." he counters, folding his arms over his chest. "Because this sure as shit ain't no bridal boutique."

My chin lifts on its own accord. "I decided to make a detour."

"Jesus fucking—" He rakes his hand through his hair. "Did you leave your brain in a ditch somewhere in the process?"

My eyes widen. "Wha—! No! I—"

"The city is crawling with paps!" he almost shouts, jabbing a finger towards the door. "Who are looking for any excuse to make a meal out of you! Did you not think for one second that—?"

"What?" I counter heatedly, stepping up to him. "That I should cower and hide instead, like I'm to blame for it all? I told you — I refuse to let these people—"

"Well, it would've been a damn sight better than making me chase you across half the fucking city!"

"Why were you even chasing after me?" I demand, my own ire flaring. "You're supposed to be in Dubai!"

"Been there, done that, got the jet lag to prove it," he hits back sarcastically. "But just because I'm gone doesn't mean you suddenly have carte blanche to fuck off on your own."

"Says the person who walked off without so much as a 'see you later'..."

His mouth hardens. "I didn't want to—"

"Also, I'm not on my own," I continue testily. "Allard and Schweitzer—"

"—are fucking fired," he cuts in, suddenly darkened mocha eyes flashing. "They should never have—"

"Ch'è qualche problema?"

"No!" Drake and I snap in unison.

The old man falls mute before muttering something disparaging under his breath.

I continue staring at Drake, heart thumping and chest heaving in the wake of our dust-up.

He glares back unblinkingly, jaw clenched as the tension rolls off him in palatable waves.

I reach up to adjust the strap of my tote indignantly. "So much for trusting each other, huh, Walker?"

"Dammit, Gale," he growls. "That's not what—"

Grabbing the wrapped box off the counter, I stomp past him without a backwards glance. "See you back at the embassy."

He has some nerve, showing up out of the blue t—

I barely make it two steps before he's grabbed me by the arm.

I open my mouth to retort...

...but I'm not given a chance to get a word in edgeways, because in the next instant, he's slammed me against his chest, laying claim to my mouth with a ferocity that's on the verge of being savage.

The fight whooshes out of me as my arms fly up to wrap themselves 'round his neck, even as I feel his fingers dig against the soft cotton of my dress, pulling me to him like a long-lost ship to anchor.

"Christ, girl," he growls against my lips. "You send me off the edge of reason..."

"I'm... sorry..." I gasp, clinging to him helplessly as he trails down the line of my jaw. "I didn't mean to—"

"Ah... l'amore... non è bello se non è litigarello."

Drake starts as he gets clapped roundly on the back.

Peeking up, I see the shopkeeper smirking at us conspiratorially as he ambles past.

"Err... Sì," coughs Drake, pulling back from me. "Sto certamente imparando che a mio spese..."

The man laughs in response. "Non capita a tutti?"

"You speak Italian?" I gawp, feeling a flush creep up my cheeks as the old man throws us a wink over his shoulder.

"Uh... Yeah..." Drake mutters, running his hand over the back of his head somewhat sheepishly. "With Bast."

"Oh." I glance between him and the old man. "What did he say?"

"An old proverb," Drake says, looking just as embarrassed as I am feeling about the fact that we'd inadvertently let our dirty laundry rip in the company of a complete stranger. "Love is not beautiful if it does not quarrel."

My cheeks redden further. "I-I see..."

"It's kind of a compliment..." he admits, shooting a sidelong glance over at the man, who's now busy dusting some shelves. "But we should probably get out of his hair."

"Definitely...!" I chirp, diving towards the saving grace of the exit.

"Err... La saluto," offers Drake on his way out. "E scusi il disturbo..."

"Eh!" comes the scoffed response. "Chi non risica non rosica. Ma è meglio stare attenti con lei! Donna buona – vale una corona."

"Lo so..."

"Everything alright?" I ask as Drake joins me on the baking pavement.

"Yeah," he assures me, not quite meeting my eye. "Just giving his two cents..."

Something flashes across his face, too fast for me to read.

But before I can ask him about it, he's already marching me across the square.

"What about Allard and Schweitzer?" I protest, trying to squint behind me as Drake navigates us 'round the incessant stream of sightseers. "Are they—?"

"I sent them back to the embassy," Drake replies, yanking me back as a pair of kids dart out in front of me.

"You didn't actually fire them, did you?" I gasp.

"Sure as hell thinking about it," he mutters, moving us forward again.

"If it's any consolation, they did try to talk me out of coming out here..."

"Clearly not hard enough."

"I can be very persuasive when I want to be," I remind him.

He lets out a low breath. "Don't I fuckin' know it..."

"Look," I say, coming to a stop and turning to face him. "I get you're pissed—"

"That's putting it mildly."

"—but don't take it out on Allard and Schweitzer," I tell him flatly. "They didn't do anything wrong... and I actually get along with them."

He holds my gaze for a long time before answering. "They're not your friends, Gale."

"Maybe not in any conventional sense," I admit. "But getting me a security detail had been your idea, Walker. And I know I was against it initially, but Allard and Schweitzer have been able to be there for me when you haven't."

His mouth hardens.

"And I know that grates you," I continue quickly, before he can cut me off again. "But we knew from the start that this was going to be the case, so if you do need to leave, then I'd prefer to be left with people I can trust. And I trust Allard and Schweitzer — with my life. Which is actually saying a lot."

He holds my gaze for what feels like a full minute before answering. "I'll think about it."

"That's it?" I demand in disbelief as he grabs my wrist to pull me after him again. "After all that, you're just going t—?"

"I said I'll think about it."

I glare at his back. "You're a dick."

He rounds on me like a wolf. "I'm a fuckin' realist. And the reality is that Allard and Schweitzer messed up. Big time. And I don't care how much you like them, or how many times you've braided each other's hair—"

My eyes narrow. "That's not—"

"—because none of that fucking matters out here! What matters — the only goddamn thing that matters — is keeping you safe. From the paps, from the aristos, even from your ownfucking self, if you're about to do something stupid. And at that, they've unquestionably failed. So, no. I'm not about to cut them a break. Especially not on your say-so. Because the stakes are too fucking real, and I'm not gonna let anyone play dice with your life. Least of all the people whose one job is to look out for you. Got it?"

I force myself to blink back the sudden tears in my eyes. "Yeah..."

"Good," he grunts. "Now get on."

Glancing past Drake, I spot what is very literally the last thing I'd expect to see him with.

I scoff up at him. "In your dreams, bud."

"Gale," he warns, reaching for one of the helmets that's hanging from the black and white moped's frame. "I'm not in the fucking m—"

"Well, neither am I," I hit back tersely. "So, you can take that deathtrap of a Vespa and shove it."

"First off," he counters, tossing the helmet at me. "It's a Piaggio. Second, the only reason I had to resort to this is because you decided to bail."

I catch the helmet irately. "So, you're saying that this is my fault?"

"Damn right, it is," he confirms, extracting a second helmet from the storage compartment nestled beneath the seat. "It's got all of 50cc so it's underpowered as fuck."

"Then why the heck did you get it!"

"Because it's the fastest way to get around the city."

I snort at him. "You mean, it's the fastest way to get into an accident..."

He prays for deliverance under his breath. "Gale, for the love of Christ, will you just—?"

"No," I declare, folding my arms. "The last time you conned me onto the back of your motorbike, I literally thought I was going to die. And after seeing how everyone in Rome drives, I have no interest in—"

"You drive, then."

Drake's unexpected offer pulls me up short. "Wait. What?"

He pulls a set of keys from his pocket. "It's a one-time offer, Gale. Either you take the wheel, or I do. But you've gettin' your ass on this sorry excuse of a bike, one way or another."

"I..." I swallow thickly. "I don't know how..."

"I'll walk you through it," he assures me. "There ain't much to it."

"Somehow I doubt that..."

"Clock's tickin', girl..."

I heave a breath before shoving my head into my helmet. "Okay, fine. I'll do it."

"Figured you would," he murmurs, holding the keys up. "You know where these go?"

"Up your ass," I retort, snatching the keychain from his hands.

The corner of his mouth twitches — whether in amusement or annoyance, I can't tell.

Not that I really care. I can be a jerk, too. But, I figure that at least with me driving, we won't rack up any speeding tickets or near misses on our way back to the Cordonian embassy, which is where we are staying for the two nights that we are in Rome for.

Walking up to the moped — admittedly with more swagger than I'm actually feeling at this moment — I grab the handlebars and swing my leg over the middle of the frame.

After a quick inspection, I locate the ignition switch and slot the key in.

But before I have a chance to try and turn the engine on, Drake's hand appears in my line of sight.

Reaching between my legs, he opens a hidden compartment in the frame. "For your bag."

"Oh," I say in genuine surprise, taking my bag off so I can tuck it away. "That is actually kind of neat."

"Last thing we need is for you to lose your stuff..." he drawls, shutting the glove box back up.

As he straightens again, his arm brushes the bare skin of my knee. And despite (or maybe because of) the unresolved tension shimmering between us in the wake of our heated reunion, I can't help but feel a familiar zap of electricity course through my nerves at the inadvertent contact.

"No kidding..." I concede, somewhat hoarsely. Clearing my throat, I add, "So... umm, what's next?"

"Grab the break and turn the key over as far as it'll go."

"So, kind of like a car," I surmise, following the instructions. "Why isn't it starting?"

"Because you only turned the electronics on," Drake advises. "To kick the engine off, you need to disengage the kick stand, and then press the start button."

"Jesus Christ, this is complicated..." I grumble as I scoot off the seat so I can try to figure out how to do what he just said.

"No more complicated than sailing a yacht," Drake counters, watching my antics from the safety of the pavement. "Just give it a shove ."

"How will that—?"

"It's got a rear-mounted kickstand," he says. "You disengage it by rolling the bike forward."

"Right," I grumble, feeling like a total idiot. "Because that's so obvious."

Maybe I should've let Drake drive, after all...

"You still holding the break?"

I snap my head up as I give the handlebars a hard push. "Huh?"

A squeal erupts from my mouth as the moped suddenly lurches forward beneath me, and I have a moment of sheer panic as I wrestle with the hunk of metal to keep from crashing to the ground.

"I told you to hold the break..."

"You could've been more specific!"

He lets out a low breath. "You good?"

"Yeah," I huff, finally managing to find some semblance of balance with an uncooperative moped  stuck between my legs.

"Turn her on, then."

I scan the buttons in front of me. "Err..."

"The one by your right thumb."

Shifting my grip, I extend my thumb out to press the button...

"You still holdin' the break?" Drake asks.

I quickly tighten my hold on the left-side break. "Yes."

Drake eyes me unconvincedly. "Just checking..."

I stick my tongue out at him.

"Hey," he objects. "You're the one who wanted to do this, Gale."

"Yeah, everything is my fault today..." I grumble as I press the start button.

The moped sparks to life beneath me, and I feel a massive rush of achievement.

"I did it!" I cry, meeting Drake's eye with an unadulterated grin.

He quirks a brow at me. "Y'know you're still stationary, right?"

"Shut up."

Drake steps up to the bike with a shake of his head and flips out the passenger foot rest. "Last chance to bow out gracefully, Gale."

I glance over my shoulder at him. "If you're trying to pull some kind of reverse psychology on me, Walker—"

"Wouldn't dream of it..." he assures me dryly, mounting up as well. "But my word is gospel, y'hear?"

"Aye-aye, Cap'n," I say sardonically... while trying to ignore the heat of his body and the instinctive urge to lean back into it as he settles down on the narrow seat behind me.

Because as much as I missed him, and as glad as I am that he's back, our volatile reunion has served as a stark reminder that we never finished our conversation back in Applewood. Not only that, but thanks to the almost break-neck speed at which things have been happening, the list of topics for discussion has only grown since then.

And the last thing I want is for us to fall down the same toxic hole that we did in the wake of Christian's surprise reveal in Valtoria.

I just have to hope that we'll be able to squeeze in some much-needed couple time before even more things pile up between us.

Not to mention, I'm desperate to know what had happened with Tariq in Dubai... and whether Drake's record-fast turnaround is a sign of some much-needed success, or even more demoralising failure.

But, first things first: getting back to the embassy in one piece, without the paps chasing us.

I feel Drake roll his eyes at me. "Wrong salutation, but never mind... Now. We're gonna do this slowly and gently. There's a lot of people around, and we don't need you on the front page of the Sun again because you accidentally torpedoed a toddler."

My throat constricts. "Y-You saw that?"

"You'd be hard pressed to find someone who hasn't," he mutters. "But right now, your focus needs to be on driving this thing. So, eyes up front and ignore everything else."

I swallow down my nerves. "Okay..."

"Your right hand controls the throttle. Your left hand controls the break," Drake instructs. "For the love of God, don't mix that up, or I'll be on the phone to your patents explaining why you suddenly need skin grafts."

I wince involuntarily at the gruesomeness of that particular image. "Got it."

"It's a mistake you'll only make once," he warns grimly. "To get going, twist down on the throttle while slowly easing up on the break. Don't jerk it, or you'll face plant into the speedometer."

"Anything else?" I ask, somewhat nervously.

As anticipated, driving a motorbike is a lot more nuanced than Drake made it look back in Cordonia. And I'm having some serious second thoughts about this whole thing...

"Keep your feet off the foot-stand until you've got enough momentum to stay upright."

"How will I know that?"

"You'll feel it," he assures me. "Like on a bike."

I bite my bottom lip.

"Hey," he says, brushing his fingers across my hip. "You got this, girl."

The familiarity of Drake's touch — even though it's fleeting — unwinds something in me. Because it's an unspoken reminder that no matter what may be going on around us... or between us, it's not going to come in the way of the promise that he made me.

I suck in a steadying breath. "Okay. Here goes."

Readjusting my grip on the handlebars, I twist my wrist down. Feeling the engine start to rumble with increased vigour, I gentle ease up on the break.

The Piaggio begins to creep forward.

"Watch the road, not the instruments," Drake cautions from behind me.

Lifting my eyes up, I carefully navigate us 'round the oncoming pedestrians, keeping my feet suspended alongside the moped, in case I need to make an emergency stop.

But, as we move away from the iconic landmark, the crowd starts to thin out, and the street widens. Passing a fruit and vegetable stand, I let go of the break fully, the bike pulls forward eagerly. Feeling slightly more confident, I add a bit more gas so I can finally lift my feet up without capsizing our delicate operation.

"Not bad," Drake approves. "You just gotta relax a bit."

I flush inadvertently. "I am relaxed."

"Your shoulders say different. You're driving like Quasimodo."

"Oh." I make a concerted effort to straighten my posture. "Better?"

"Yeah. But now you need to drop your elbows."

"So much for this being easy..."

"It is," he insists. "Once you get the hang of it."

"You and your technicalities, Walker..." I grumble.

"Everything's got a learning curve," he reminds me. "But we just might make a Hell's Angel out of you yet."

I snort back at him. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Evil Knievel. We haven't made it back to the embassy yet."

"Then you might wanna knuckle down for this next part."

"Why? What's—?"

I get my answer as we round a corner and come parallel to a busier-looking road.

Great...

"Right here, then first left," Drake advises as we approach a somewhat complicated-looking three-way intersection.

"Umm... Okay..." I mumble, eyeing up the noticeably faster-moving traffic on the main road with more than a bit of trepidation.

"No one's gonna give you room, so you'll have to gun it," comes the no-nonsense tip from behind me. "The indicator is by your left thumb."

A Fiat whizzes past, but the next car is some distance away. Taking a breath, I flick the indicator on and twist down on the throttle to merge into the gap.

"Move over one more," Drake shouts over my shoulder. "You're taking up the bus lane."

"Where the heck does it say that?" I demand, casting my head around in confusion.

"On the sign we just passed..."

"Was it invisible?"

"Hey," counters Drake. "You wanna argue with me, or a cop?"

"Neither," I concede sourly, making the switch to the left-side lane after a quick check in the mirror. "But they could've made it more obvious..."

Drake scoffs. "It's Rome. The bastards are trying to catch you out."

"Clearly," I agree, taking a left at the traffic lights...

...straight into a two-way fork in the road.

"Umm... What now?" I squeak, trying to hedge my bets as much as I can in the rapidly shrinking room that I have to make a decision before I run into the curb.

"Stay left."

I start to turn the bike, only to yank it back violently with a yelp as a car that I hadn't realised was trying to overtake me blows past with a scream of its horn.

"Vaffanculo!" yells Drake, throwing his hand out angrily at the other driver.

"Ohmygod..." I rasp, my entire body shaking in the wake of the near miss.

"Fuckin' asshole," gripes Drake. "You okay?"

I swallow thickly past the lump in my throat. "I... think so."

"If you need to pull over..."

I shake my head. "No. I'm fine. I just..."

"...get a kick outta playing chicken?"

"I don't do it on purpose!"

"You sure?" he asks dryly. "'Cause you definitely seem to be making a habit of it..."

I open my mouth, but quickly think better of it... as Drake has a point. I have had a few too many near misses lately. "Sorry... It isn't intentional. I thought that since I'd left the indicator on, that—"

"I know," he assures me, laying a hand on my hip again. "I'm not blaming you. But all the calls you've had have been too close. And..." His fingers tighten against the material of my dress. "I just don't want you to—"

"I know," I concede softly. "I don't want that either. And I'm not normally this accident-prone, I promise..."

"Except when your blood sugar's low," he corrects wryly.

His words cause me to clench my eyes together in consternation. "Damn it, the croissants..."

In the whirlwind of Drake's surprise reappearance, I'd forgotten all about the primary reason for sneaking away from the bridal boutique.

"What croissants?" queries Drake.

"The pistachio ones I was supposed to get from this little bakery next to the fountain that the Italian President had recommended."

I feel Drake's disbelieving gaze knife into the back of my head. "Seriously? That's the reason you were out playing hooky?"

"One of them, yes..." I reply evasively.

"Putain de merde..."

"Apparently they're very good..."

Drake mutters something under his breath. "Pull over."

My eyes widen. "What? Why?"

"Because it's past noon, and you're clearly starving."

"I'm fine," I insist, even though the only thing of substance I've had since this morning was the cup of coffee on Olivia's jet. "I'll just grab something when—"

The Piaggio lurches to a stop as Drake slaps a hand on the break. "No. You won't."

My eyes widen as my feet fly out on instinct to steady the suddenly stationary moped. "Why not?"

"Because the staff at the embassy already have their work cut out pulling together tonight's dinner, so the kitchen is off-limits," he explains, hopping off the back. "And you won't be able to take two steps outside to grab a sandwich without picking up a pap tail."

"Then why have we stopped in a dead-end alley?" I ask in disbelief as Drake pulls the moped it onto its kickstand while I'm still sat gaping at him from the seat.

"Because we just passed one of the best restaurants in Rome," he states. "So, I'm buying you lunch."

His cinnamon-laced eyes meet mine, and I see a sudden flash of rawness in his gaze... a silent plea entreating me to say yes. Which means this is about more than just food.

"Okay," I accede, wondering what could've prompted such a sudden change of heart. "But what about the paps? Aren't you worried we'll get spotted?"

"See any people?" asks Drake, reaching across my lap to turn the ignition off.

"No, but—"

"Exactly," he affirms, pocketing the keys. "This is one of the few places in the city where you ain't gonna bump into a reporter."

"How do you know?"

"Because apart from the fact that Sugo actually makes its own pasta, it is also a stone's throw from Parliament," he explains, offering me a hand to help me off the bike. "Which means that pencil pushers from every level of government come here to ink deals over carbonara, so no one — staff included — is gonna mess with the status quo."

"Sounds like something out of a mafia movie..."

"Where d'you think Hollywood gets its ideas from?" he drawls, pulling his helmet off to stow it in the under-seat compartment. "Places like this. Which is why no one will bother us here. Especially not the paps. It'd be a death sentence for this joint if their tight and discreet ship suddenly sprung a leak."

"Good to know," I acknowledge, unclipping the clasp of my own helmet. "But how did you even find out about this place? Let alone got in?"

"Leo," Drake replies, taking my helmet to clip it onto the handlebar. "He's on a first name basis with the chef."

I quirk a brow at him. "Sounds like there's a story there..."

Drake extricates my bag from the glove box with scoffs. "It's Leo. There's never not a story. But let's get you inside first. Before you pass out on the pavement."

"I'm not going to—" My stomach rumbles in pointed disagreement. "Okay, I am hungry. But where exactly is this place? There's nothing here apart from the back-ends of buildings..."

"Have I ever let you down when it comes to food?" he asks with a raised brow.

"No..."

"Then trust me."

The story continues in Chapter 21 - You Give Me Reason

A/N: Translations for the Italian below:

Ch'è qualche problema? - Is there a problem?

Ah... l'amore... non è bello se non è litigarello. - Ah, love... It is not beautiful if it does not quarrel.

Err... Sì. Sto certamente imparando che a mio spese... - Err... Yes. I am definitely learning that the hard way.

Non capita a tutti? - Don't we all?

Err... La saluto. E scusi il disturbo... - Err... Farewell. And apologies for disturbing you.

Eh! Chi non risica non rosica. Ma è meglio stare attenti con lei! Donna buona – vale una corona. - Eh! No risk, no reward! But you better take care of her! Good woman – worth a crown.

Lo so... - I know...

Vaffanculo! - Fuck you!

Permatags

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @angelasscribbles @aussiegurl1234 @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @twinkle-320 @knaussal @nikkis1983 @lunaseasblog @ficloverevie @indiana-jr @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kristinamae093 @eversoaringqueen12 @3pawandme @alexabeta @veebug8 @fanfiction-she-wrote @queenmiarys @lancelotsimp @coco-lina-s @lolablackwrites @ivyflowers13 @persephone13 @hollygirl1269 @adri-ja-96 @harleybeaumont @katedrakeohd @uneravine @alj4890 @mywildheartremains

(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[002yb]

AAAAAAAAAAA YOUR DICKJOYFIRE FIC????? OMG IM ON MY KNEES. i love kory and Jay and i grew fond of jayroy and jaydick is my absolute OTP and aaaaaaa. Your brain is justtttt. OmG i love all that you write. Would you consider writing more about the four of them together? Smothering Jay with love and him being the maiden heart he is♡

Anyways, im really a fan of your fics they are awesome

Ahhhhh, you're always so delightful @alexandraisapenguin thank you so much. ///u/// This turned out to be more general ot4 though ;u;

Gym Shenanigans

Friendly competition between the four of them that's really just the boys taunting and challenging one another and being motivating in all their dumbness.

And Kory is so fond as she smokes all of them. Scorched earth policy, sorry boys. ;)

But it's all good because the three of them are so (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) because wowie hot damn, look at their girlfriend go.

Something something they all benchpress each other and Jason loses it each time when all of them do him. Which omg what? Hot? Help?

Dick being the first though and it takes so much coaxing and Dick swears he's got this. Which he does. It's only a few reps, anyhow. Still, the moment Dick presses Jason up, Jason panics and flails and ends up throwing himself out of Dick's hold and landing on his chest and Dick wheezes because oh god. Meanwhile Kory and Roy are !!! because whoops, spotting is a thing and Jason is mortified forever because again, omg.

But Dick just laughs through his wheezing and holds Jason to him before he can run off and Jason is sweet and blushy as he hides in Dick's chest and it's cute.

Speaking of chests - Roy marveling Jason's pecs. Like how you can catch glimpses of it through the low cut of Jason's sleeves. Dick following suit once he notices Roy's staring. And Kory following along not long after and wow, she thinks she understands the infatuation with breasts now. Amazing.

Jason spitting and sputtering because wth Kory //A///

Kory saddling up next to her baby boy and comparing chests and laughing because it's impressive! Has Jason ever tried to hold anything in his cleavage? So convenient. Also-

(Also, unrelated thought: Jason laying on top of Kory and their chests being smushed together and Dick and Roy just blatantly staring until they're called out and it's ahahahha)

General muscle appreciation. Like Roy's back. Roy basking in the attention but also being sweetly sheepish about it. Just something with him waving them off and being all, 'oh stop, guys,' then promptly flexing his back muscles. Dorky sweetness and cute flirting ahhhhhhh.

But wait. Dick getting stared at and objectified by other gym goers because he's beautiful handsome gorgeous. And while it's uncomfortable, he deals. Nothing new, right?

Only Jason puffs up and is ready to throw down, just sending the nastiest glares and snarls at men and women alike. He's got Kory right there backing him up too while Roy uses his impressive back to act as a screen and the combination of it all lightens Dick's mood so much and he loves them all dearly. ;U;

Sauna. Where Kory basks in the heat and unintentionally raises the temp until her boys are toasted and she has to drag them out and fan them back to safe temps.

Shower. Where Kory suggests showering together and yeah, sure. Only Jason bails out of embarrassment, maiden at heart that he is.

[allatariel]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Thank you to @gordopickett who tagged me two Sundays ago <3 I am so slow!!

Tagging: @madamairlock @brynnmclean, @callioope, @toodeeplyinvested, @tiltedsyllogism

Tagging more (because tumblr is broken): @spectral-musette, @narilwrites, @sparkleplatypuswriter, @moocowmoocow, @melyzard

And anyone else who would like to <3

So, this is a brand new season 4 standard issue fix-it, because I have no focus and am going with the flow—when it decides to actually flow. The idea came to me while I was writing some tags on an imagine your OTP style post on Friday night and then proceeded to stay up way too late writing this as a path to that. And going back to check my memory of Graciana this morning, I think I misremembered her as 4–5 instead of 5–6 years old, something to fix later! This may pull in the other season 4 snippets I've already posted, not sure yet. But definitely leads to Brazil! Currently calling it We Are Fortunate Ones I Swear. Also, I can't seem to limit myself to sharing seven sentences, so here's an additional twelve with it!

“Mamá!” Graciana exclaimed again, with even more gusto and a touch of sass, and Aleida’s attention snapped to her. Her daughter’s attention was fixed on something outside her window and her face lit up as she pointed. “I see tío!” Aleida’s brow furrowed as she followed the line of her pointing hand to see a familiar man holding a black umbrella stepping off the curb to cross the street in front of them. They’d only met a few times and Graciana was already calling him “tío”? Before Aleida could even begin to process that thought, Graciana had jabbed the button to roll down her window and called to him at top volume. “Tío Sergei!” Sergei looked startled and then smiled warmly when he recognized them. “Miss Graciana! Hello!” he called and she giggled as he hurried over to her and bent down some, holding his umbrella over the open window. “You’re getting rain in your mother’s lovely car,” he chided her gently before giving Aleida a nod and waving. “Hello Aleida.” Graciana shyly leaned back towards Aleida, her prior boldness gone but her smile remained bright. Aleida smirked at her daughter’s sudden shift and addressed Sergei. “What are you doing walking in this mess?” “Oh, it’s not so bad, only a little drizzle. My hotel is right there”—he pointed behind him and then at the McDonald’s across the street—”and I’m just getting some dinner.” “We’re having ice cream bars!” Graciana found her voice again and Sergei chuckled as Aleida grinned and wrapped her arm around her. “After dinner, there may be ice cream,” Aleida corrected Graciana without any heat and then looked up at Sergei smiling at them a little distantly. “Would you like to join us?” she asked without really thinking of anything but the fondness she’d seen between him and Margo at dinner only a few nights ago.

[steevbuckk]

FAVORITE STUCKY FICS | 33/100

some short fics that i love 🥰

Brooklyn by @toli-a

[Post Avengers, 8 749 words, Teen And Up Audiences]

Summary:

"Captain America, what's your stance on gay marriage?"

Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

Sexiest Man... Alive? by @otp-holic

[Post Endgame, 2 473 words, General Audiences]

Summary:

Steve has been away from the public eye for three years, and he decides to come back to be named Sexiest Man Alive.

Why?

Infinity by @andrea1717

[Post TWS, 1 258 words, General Audiences]

Summary:

Bucky and Steve spend a very special new year's eve together.

maybe bi guy by @yetanotherobsessivereader

[Wrong number AU, 3 338 words, Mature]

Summary:

Steve: i saw that guy again. i think i’m not as straight as i thought i was

Unknown number: i hate to tell you this but you got the wrong number pal. but hey, i’m bi. i’ve been there. i can talk you through it if you want

---

Or Steve embarks on a journey of self-discovery assisted by a helpful stranger who likes to make really bad puns

Cat Calls by @cable-knit-sweater

[Shrunkyclunks, 4 819 words, Teen And Up Audiences]

Summary:

When veterinarian Bucky gives Steve his personal number, he’s pretty sure he’s obvious enough in what he wants him to use it for. But Steve doesn’t call to ask him out for a drink, or dinner. No, when he ends up calling Bucky late at night, it’s not even for a booty call. It’s because of his newly adopted cat. And he continues to call Bucky about his cat. Until eventually…

———-

“Just uhm, doing my job,” he says, waving away the compliment. “So, do we have a name yet?”

“Cat.”

“Yeah she sure fuckin is,” Bucky chuckles.

Steve smirks back at him. “No, her name, I named her Cat.”

Bucky stares at him in disbelief, looking for a sign that it’s a joke. It’s not. He named his cat Cat . He’s not sure if that makes him more or less attracted to Steve. Still, he won’t stand for it.

#BeProud by @iamnelvenqueen

[Coming out, 9 021 words, Explicit]

Summary:

To say that Steve had thought about it would have been a lie. It wasn’t an impulse decision either, but it had just occurred to him in the heat of the moment a couple of days before.

He looked back over his shoulder at the sleeping body in his bed, incapable of preventing himself from smiling as he took in his lover’s open mouth and soft snores.

Yes, he was sure of himself. Even if he hadn’t thought about it for more than a few hours at most, he wasn’t about to take back his decision.

-

In which Steve Rogers decides to casually come out on Twitter on a sunny Sunday morning.

getting off (on a technicality) by MaddieWritesStucky (Madeleine_Ward)

[Modern AU, 4 510 words, Explicit]

Summary:

Steve looks exactly like his dating profile had advertised, with one glaring exception—the sheer size of him.

Apparently mass doesn’t translate to the small screen, because instead of getting your average beach muscle gym-bro like Bucky had been expecting, he’d instead been met with what has to be 200lbs of build-you-a-house, carry-you-up-a-mountain, wrestle-a-bear-and-win whole ass man, and it’s short circuiting Bucky’s delicate brain.

And he’s not hiding it particularly well, if the way Steve’s smirking at him when Bucky pulls himself together enough to actually look at his face is anything to go by.

In which Bucky most resolutely, definitively, uncompromisingly does not fuck on the first date…

…until he meets Steve.

more fics

[autumnslance]

Year of the OTP - July 2023 - Stars

(More Shadowbringers timeline, have some yearning during a key early moment. Original prompt list Here. 2 sections, 2 screenshots, 850ish words nearly evenly split between 2 POVs.)

Thancred cooked over a small fire as Minfilia imbued his ammunition. There was a sudden pressure in his ears, on his shoulders. The sky rippled…

…and broke.

The oppressive Light evaporated like clouds of steam, plunging the world into darkness. Minfilia shrieked, the cartridges tumbling from her hands. “Thancred?!”

He couldn’t answer immediately, staring up, the stinging wetness in his eyes not from the campfire smoke.

The moon shone down, a gleaming disk of silver. Stars scattered across the velvety darkness, blinking and winking like old friends. And they were, he realized, recognizing constellations memorized to help comrades with their Astrology studies once upon a time.

“Thancred, is this…night?”

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yes,” he managed hoarsely. “The night sky, the moon and stars.”

She hugged herself. “Then this means…”

“She’s here,” Thancred whispered. His heart tried to beat through his chestplate, his pulse in his ears, echoing: she’s here, she’s here, she’s here, she’s here!

“We have to find her,” Minfilia said, crystal-blue gaze turning from the sky to the shadowed woodline.

“We will,” Thancred replied. “But first we need to pick up those cartridges and eat.”

His mind spun while his heart continued to do backflips behind his sternum. Five years of dreaming, of longing, and Aeryn was here. Had much time passed for her as well? Or was it as the Exarch’s mirror showed, and she was the same as she had been their last night together in Ala Mhigo?

Aeryn’s hair falling in midnight waves down her back, her eyes shining silver in amusement at his jokes and teasing, the lilt of her accent followed by her laughter, the scent of the white violas she wore in her hair, the soft touch of her skin against his, the heat between them keeping the chill of the highland night at bay…

Thancred let out a sigh, hardly noticing his meal, vaguely aware of Minfilia watching him.

Five years in this harsh realm had changed him; would it be too much? Would Aeryn still recognize him? Still want him?

He ought to be sure of the answer; he knew her well enough. But that ever-present voice in the back of his head whispered warnings as always. One would think he’d be able to ignore his self-doubt by now.

“Let’s clean up and break camp,” he said, dousing the fire. Minfilia whined at the loss of light. “Your eyes will adjust; it’s a lovely night, for the first this world’s seen in far too long.”

Thancred paused to look at the sky again. She’s here.

—

Aeryn looked up at the sky again, the familiar moon and constellations looking back, comforting after their absence.

She had only been in the First for a little over a fortnight, the lack of change each day disorienting and the constant press of Light wearisome. How much stranger it must be for the people of the First, who had never seen the night, never known the natural rhythmic shifts in time and weather and the beauty of the true sky!

Alphinaud also kept pausing to look up and smile, his relief and happiness palpable. So many other people as they walked by were staring up, talking to one another in excitement, unable to tear their eyes from the starscape above. There were many tears, prayers and songs of thanks even before they entered the city proper.

As they passed through the checkpoint, the Exarch quietly spoke to a guard. “Any word from Thancred?”

Are you seeing the stars too?

Was Thancred nearby? Had he seen the Light split away and wonder why, or did he know what this meant? Was he even in Lakeland, or in another part of the realm where Light still billowed and swirled above? Did he yet care, or had the years he had spent here—years!—dull his affections? What of this companion the Exarch had mentioned?

“Not yet, my lord.”

The moonlight had streamed in through the window of her room in Ala Mhigo, the stars twinkling, their light making Thancred’s fair hair practically glow as they had lounged in the bed, talking and joking, laughing and teasing. His hands had been warm on her skin as they cunningly explored her, his voice low and sending shivers down her spine. His mismatched eyes had glimmered in amusement, the line of his mouth crooking into a smile before leaning in to kiss her again, drawing her close to his warmth against the night’s chill.

The next day his body lay frighteningly still and silent, everything that made him Thancred…gone.

She could count the time in mere sennights and moons. But he had been here without the moon and stars, without her, for five entire years.

Do you know that I’m here? Do you still care? Do you see the stars?

“Aeryn,” Alphinaud called, pausing with the Exarch at the head of the bridge leading into the Crystarium.

She turned her face from the sky to smile at her companions as she rejoined them.

I’m here, her heart silently called. And I brought you the stars. Do you see them? Do you see me?

[isleofair]

Obv I have to ask you about Nathan.

Ohgodohgodohgod

Thank you, my dear, for yet another chance to rant about Nathan 🥺🙏😍💖

First impression:

From the pilot episode: cool and competent (but not my thing, fire and cars and muscles? Naaah) -> GAY. VERY GAY OH WOW SO VERY GAY -> oh no, we're dealing with Stereotypical Bad Anime Gay dammit 😭😭😭

Impression now:

She's wonderful she's amazing she's the love of my life they're everything to me there is no character like her in all of history she has rewritten my brain completely I can no longer live without them I will love and adore and treasure her forever and ever amen. 😍💖😍💖😍💖😍💖😍💖😍💖

Favorite moment:

The full amount of feelings I have about this whole scene cannot be expressed, but I picked this one image of her embracing all the parts of herself that still sat a bit jagged on the inside, and were trying to hurt her, and saving herself with acceptance and love.

Just... yeah. 💖🥺💖

Idea for a story:

*glances at overflowing WIP/notes folder*

Uhhh... any of those? For this, let's mention the AU one where the heroes are F1 drivers and Nathan owns their own racing team.

Unpopular opinion:

She's hotter than Kotetsu 😜

No, okay, jokes aside, I don't know that any of my opinions about her are unpopular? I guess the one people might disagree more with is that I wish she had a different haircut (I don't love her current one).

Favorite relationship:

*waves helplessly at the pile of FireSky fanfic on her AO3 profile*

It's the one with Keith, of course. OTP for life. ❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜

Favorite headcanon:

For a long time, it was that Nathan doesn't feel cold because of her power. Which might still be (partially) true, given how light her clothes always look, but of course, what she's canonically physically immune to is heat. (And I feel bad about getting this one a tiny bit wrong in a couple of my stories.) So now my new favorite headcanon is that, based on all of my crazy math, they and Keith debuted as heroes in the same season, and as rookies they were both, like, raw cookie dough versions of their current selves, and many funny and/or cute shenanigans ensued because of how different they were 😂

(the ask game, in case anyone wants to play!)

[totentnz]

i was tagged by @hamburgerslippers (THANK YOU) for the newest hot picrew !

yes, v gets to have two boyfriends. (c'mon we talked about this)

mu & v (ft. j3p for emotional support) v & johnny (fresh body that's why his hair is short and his beard doesn't exist) vincent and kerry (they DO have facial hair but... limited options) gabbie & sera (gay panic)

tagging! @bishicat | @seraphfighter | @bloodydragam | @glitchinginthegarden | @streetkid-named-desire | @silver-samurai

[abarbaricyalp]

hey <3 for the ask game: 👄🚿 🤷‍♀️🌷

Hi! Thanks so much for the lovely questions! From this ask meme

👄 Your OTP are having their first kiss. What song do you imagine is playing?

Oh man, I love questions like this. I have so many thoughts (is it a cute docks at sunset kiss? Heat of battle/post-injury kiss? Middle of an argument kiss?) Maybe "This Will Be (an everlasting love)" by Natalie Cole. I think it's a great 'end of movie' fade away song and I want the boys to be smiling during their first kiss.

🚿Where do your best ideas seem to strike?

Usually while I'm falling asleep! Sometimes when I'm walking around. I think it's because I let my mind wander and don't try to hold onto anything in those moments. Just let the images/scenarios pass over me like ocean waves and then get smacked in the face with the seaweed clump of a great idea. And then I go to sleep without writing it down and forget it

🤷‍♀️What's a fic you didn't expect to be popular, but really took off?

Definitely The Truths Beneath Our Ribs. I know it's popular because of the timing/posting it while the show was hot, but people still reread it or bookmark it and I don't really get why. It's not even my favorite thing I wrote in that period, lol. (No judgement to people who do like it. I appreciate all the love so much)

🌷What's one of your fics that isn't as popular, but you hold dear?

Most of my favorites. I'm gonna say three: Things to Crawl Home To (The Winter Soldier sets a meeting with the Taskmaster / (Bucky Barnes talks with Antonia Dreykov)) No Force Greater Than (Stucky / Cap Quartet HS AU with Star Wars references) A Time For Dancing (Footloose AU. Gosh, I'm just so soft about this one)

[masterwords]

Hello, do you mind if I ask for a lot at once for the OTPs one? They're just too good to resist 💙

(20) Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

(22) What reminds each of their partner?

(42) What's their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)

(51) What’s a non verbal way they say I love you?

(48) Who's the better driver? - I feel like having to preface this by saying I mean it ordinarily and not when they're after unsubs probably means it's not Hotch, but...

Also #59 made me lol given the many many conversations had about that particular question and Hotchgan already

Do I mind the chance to go fully feral about them? No, sir, I do not mind at all. <3

20. Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

Oh...oh no. There are so many! ONE SONG?! Okay I'm gonna do two, because there is one that screams them on-screen, and one that screams them in my head. And so you get two.

On screen, I always think about "Trust" by The Cure.

There's no-one left in the world That I can hold onto There is really no-one left at all There is only you And if you leave me now You leave all that we were Undone There is really no-one left You are the only one And still the hardest part for you To put your trust in me I love you more than I can say Why won't you just believe?

And then the Them in my head, their theme song is "Restless Heart" by Peter Cetera. For all the reasons.

22. What reminds each of their partner?

Well, first of all they are both sentimental fools. That's a fact. Sunrises and coffee breath, the sensations of an early morning run. Gunpowder and shredded paper at the firing range. Popcorn and icy condensation pooling on a sticky bar table. The smell of hotel shampoo and dusty air conditioning and the echo of walking down a new yet always the same carpeted hallway every day/week/month. I think they travel so often together that anything has potential to be a reminder - when you do so much life with a person, they are woven into every aspect of it.

42. What's their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)

I'm going to speak to their older years, when the adrenaline junkies settle down a little and learn how to enjoy moments. LOL While I do think they can find a way to enjoy almost anything together, I think a heat wave has to be it for them. Grilling in the backyard, gardening, drinking iced tea by the gallon. Derek can walk around naked if he's so inclined (and there isn't anyone around to see), Hotch can nap in the hammock, and life is good. But a good snowstorm in Chicago, the kind where you have to dig yourself out of your doorway just to go get your mail, the kind where you drag your kid's sled behind you down to the corner store to haul your groceries home because no one can drive...is a nice way of forcing them to settle down a bit. To just sit quietly in their snow-insulated home, curled up beneath blankets and watching movies or reading books, cooking and sleeping.

51. What’s a non verbal way they say I love you?

Oh you know I'm a sucker for this one. So much of what they do is nonverbal. The things these two can say to one another with just a look. Derek learns how to make coffee the way Hotch likes it, he learns the exact measurements because he might not care that much (coffee is coffee), Hotch does. He would never turn his nose up at caffeine, even terrible police station slop, but there are just certain things that he enjoys and it's a pretty small sacrifice to pull out the measuring spoons in order to see that look of bliss when it's exactly right. And Hotch, touch-starved king, loves to rub Derek's shoulders. And back and feet and whatever else he's tweaked by running full speed into danger.

48. Who's the better driver?

Uh...sorry Hotch. Just because you do most of the driving thanks to your need to control (or your intense car sickness) doesn't mean you're the better driver, it just means you're the boss. LOL I do imagine Derek is actually a pretty good driver. He learned to drive in the congested streets of Chicago, he worked as a cop which meant a lot of driving time, he rides a motorcycle, I bet he's got some very good driving music intuition...I just think he's probably got a very good sense of direction (hello vibing it) and he's comfortable behind the wheel. When boiled down, I just don't think Hotch likes to drive as much as Derek does, like the simple act of driving doesn't bring him pleasure like it does Derek, he simply needs to. And therein lies the difference to me.

AHAHAHAA. Oh...59. That's a hard no from me, dawg.

want me to talk about hotchgan? i will...at length...and hey, if you don't vibe with those questions, ask some of your own. i'll talk about them all day.

[typingtess]

NCIS: Los Angeles Season 14 Rewatch:  “Flesh & Blood”

The basics:  Investigate a Navy wife fleeing the scene of her husband’s murder.

Written by:  Chad Mazero co-wrote “Internal Affairs”, “Revenge Deferred”, “Where Everybody Knows Your Name”, “The Noble Maidens” and “Pandora’s Box”.  Wrote “Tidings We Bring”, “Can I Get a Witness”, “All Is Bright”, “Diamond in the Rough”, “High Society”, “Murder of Crows”, "Overdue" and "Sorry for Your Loss".

Directed by:  Daniela Ruah directed “Russia, Russia, Russia”, “Lost Sailor Down”, “Pandora’s Box” (co-written by Chad Mazero) and “Live Free or Die Standing”.

Guest stars of note:  Pamela Reed returns from season 11’s “High Society” as Roberta Deeks, Bar Paly returns from “Of Value” as Anastasia “Anna” Kolcheck, Natalia Del Riego is back from “Game of Drones” as Rosa Reyes, Kavi Ramachandran Ladnier is back from the previous episode “Dead Stick” as NCIS Reserve Agent Shyla Dahr, Marnee Carpenter as Alice Morgan, Lauren "Lolo" Spencer as Ella and Rif Hutton as Navy Commander Albert Burns

Our heroes:   Work with an abused wife to find some explosives while working through some home issues.

What important things did we learn about:

Callen:  Waiting for Hetty to get married. Sam:  Worried that Callen is avoiding getting married. Kensi:  Feels like she’s not prepared for motherhood. Deeks:  Bad baseball game in June of 1990. Fatima:  Absent. Rountree:   Looking to put his Beale bucks to good use. Kilbride:  Not pleased with Deeks’s attitude about the Navy spousal abuse response.

What not so important things did we learn about:

Callen:  Orphan. Sam: Once again looking for a caretaker for Raymond. Kensi:  Hanging with Bertie, buying cleats with Rosa at the mall and negotiating teen angst. Deeks:  Owes Kensi for hanging with Bertie. Fatima:  Not around. Rountree:   Called “Shark Tank” by Shyla. Kilbride:  Not pleased with the Navy’s spousal abuse response in the cut scenes.

Where in the world is Henrietta Lange?  Don’t know but Anna wants her found so she can marry Callen.

Who's down with OTP:   Anna and Callen are trying to negotiate their way around a wedding date.  Kensi and Deeks are trying to negotiate their way around Bertie.

Who's down with BrOTP:  With the teams mixing and matching all episode, not a lot of BrOTP time but Shyla worked well with all.

Fashion review:  Callen starts the episode in a black running shirt and black shorts.  Wears a button down medium blue shirt for the rest of the episode.  Sam has a wine colored long-sleeve tee-shirt.  Kensi is in a white tee-shirt with thin blue stripes.  Cornflower blue long-sleeve tee for Deeks.  Rountree is wearing a light brown long-sleeve tee.  Kilbride is in his civilian uniform with a medium blue three-piece suit, pale blue dress-shirt, blue tie.

Music: Not today.

Any notable cut scene:   Finally!  As Rountree is packing up for the day, Shyla asks him if he wants to go out for some tacos.  He can’t – he’s meeting with his friend David Packer about his investment money.  Shyla asks him not to.  Understanding that she may be overstepping, she knows Rountree has a real fire inside after what happened with Jordyn and the LAPD.  The person Rountree needs to invest in is himself. 

As they leave, Sam is find a caretaker for his Dad.  The Admiral says that gets Sam a good night’s sleep.  The Admiral also thinks Alice Morgan deserved better.  The Admiral thinks maybe they should blow up the whole damn book on abuse cases.  Then promises to if Sam tells anyone he said that, the Admiral would make sure Sam didn’t get a good night’s sleep ever again.

Quote:  Deeks:  So it's, uh... June 30, 1990.  And my mom decides she wants to take me to watch the Dodgers play the Cardinals.  And I will never forget that day.” Alice:  “I don't care about sports.” Deeks:  “That's funny, 'cause I don't care about sports either.  No, the reason I remember it is because it was so hot.  Like, L.A. had been coming off this massive heat wave and I can still see the ice cream cone melting as it's being passed down the row.” Alice:  “Now you want to talk about weather?” Deeks:  “Actually, I do, because...that is the other thing that I can still see from that day, is my mom.  And she's sitting next to me in this 90-degree heat, except for the fact that she is wearing...she's wearing jeans and a long-sleeve turtleneck.  And she was covered up like that the whole entire summer.  Not that it matters, because she couldn't cover the bruises on her face.” Alice:  “Did he spare you, at least?” Deeks:  “No.   I mean, but I was a kid, right?  Kids are supposed to have bruises.  I'd just tell the teachers that, um...I got another fight in the playground.  What do you tell people?” Alice:  “I don't have anyone left to tell.  He made me push everyone away.” Deeks:  “Yeah, they do that.”

Runner up:  Rountree:  “Was all that true? About your dad?” Deeks:  “Every word of it.”

Anything else:  At night in a suburban neighborhood, a woman is frantically packing her things.  She gets a phone call from her father and tries to blow him off.  Seeing her in a mirror, her clothes are covered with blood.  Her father is recommending a Tom Hanks movie as she is trying to get him off the phone.  She tells her father she loves him as she tries to leave the house.  A man’s dead body is making it hard to open the door.  But she succeeds.

Callen arrives home with two smoothies.  He’s worn out which surprises Anna.  She ran for six-miles, he “bailed” after two.  Since the bagel place didn’t have bagels, he brought smoothies.  Anna wanted bagels before her job interview that day.  She also wants to pick a wedding date.  Every time of the year Anna mentions, Callen has a reason not to get married at that time.  She offers him an out when it comes to getting married.  He wants to get married, Callen assures her, just find the right time to do it.

At the Blye-Deeks home, everyone is running around as the day starts.  Rosa is missing her backpack.  When Kensi tosses it, Deeks walks right into the tossed backpack.  Rosa and Deeks review her latest assignment as they hustle to leave.  Deeks gets a phone call – it’s Bertie.  She’s been on the road for six months of “eat, pray and loving” her way across the country.  Deeks thinks this is all TMI.  After seeing “Nomadland”, Bertie rented out her apartment so she is going to crash at the Blye-Deeks residence.  She needs someone to be there to let her in.  Rosa really needs to leave for school so they are going to figure something out.

Walking near the gym, Shyla hears Rountree working out and quoting “300”.  He’s working on an ancient martial arts technique to strengthen his grip and arms.  When Rountree gets a text, he asks Shyla to look at his phone – they could have a case.  Instead, Rountree has a text from “Packer” who is talking about his pants being on fire.  Packer is a friend of Rountree’s from Quantico.  Packer is starting a clothing line and Rountree is a possible investor.  He’s looking to grow some of the money Eric left them all last year.  After what happened to Rountree and Jordyn, he's looking to invest that money into a growing business.  Shyla would have taken the Eric money and spent some time in Tokyo.

Sam has a call and so does the Admiral.  Both are unhappy with their calls.  Sam lost another caretaker for Raymond, NCIS is making Kilbride go through another round of approvals for expenses.  Cranky men in Ops alert.

The Admiral looks around an empty Ops and wonders where is everyone.  On the screen is the dead man blocking the door from the opening scenes.  He is Lt. Jeff Morgan, an intelligence officer working out of a DoD Task Force.  Morgan was stabbed several times.  There are real concerns because Morgan was part of a team developing software to integrate intelligence gathered by all branches of the armed services.  If an outsider or foreign government got access to that software, they’d have access all U.S. military intelligence.  Sam asks if there are any suspects – China, Russia, Iran or Alice Morgan, Jeff’s wife.  She’s was seen leaving the house at the estimated time of death. 

In the office driveway, Kensi and Deeks are arguing about who is going to help Bertie unpack.  Deeks is owed a favor by Kensi and he’s calling it in. She’s not interested in helping unpack all of Mama Deeks’s Michael Bublé fannish things.   Besides, Deeks should help his mother.  Callen arrives but isn’t interested in hearing any of this – he’s an orphan.  Deeks says that funny, Callen doesn’t agree. 

Sam joins the trio, the most we’ve seen of this foursome together in a while.  He's been working since 8AM and everyone else just arrived.  Callen and Sam are off to the boatshed to meet with Morgan’s CO, Sam would like Kensi and Deeks to join Rountree at the crime scene.  Sighing Kensi mentions she has some accrued leave Kilbride wants her to take so she’ll help Roberta, get Rosa from school and Rosa can meet Bertie.  Deeks tells Kensi he owes her. 

At the house Morgan household, Rountree found a locked laptop – Shyla is getting a warrant to get in.  Deeks is looking through some magazines while Rountree picks up the Morgans’s mail.  One magazine has expensive furniture.  Speaking of money, LAPD found a Rolex on Morgan’s wrist and a Lexus in the garage – this wasn’t a robbery gone bad.  Rountree is confused – a junior officer like Morgan doesn’t make Rolex money.

Deeks flips through Morgan’s credit card bills – they are big.  Since Alice Morgan didn’t have a job, the only way they could afford their lifestyle was if Jeff Morgan was selling military secrets.  Deeks sees that the credit card bills include electronic toll charges – an EZ Pass.  They can find Alice Morgan’s location that way.

In the boat shed, Morgan’s CO, Commander Burns, is not thrilled to be there.  There are cellphones for meetings like this.   He should be in his office dealing with the fallout from the tragedy of Morgan being killed and not sitting in the boatshed – a “Bubba Gump’s”. 

Sam asks about the software.  According to Burns, it tracks everything from emails between intelligence offices to weapons and ordnance use and supplies.  Morgan was doing data analytics for the team but a month ago, he started visiting weapon manufacturers to make sure their software would work the with military’s new software.  Burns really didn’t have much of an opinion of Morgan except he was a good kid.  With hundreds of men under his command, he really didn’t know much about him.  He remembers Alice Morgan was quiet and unfriendly.  Burns is done with Callen and Sam.  He’ll answer any other questions by phone – he has work to do.  Callen and Sam want to check into Morgan’s travel vouchers to see where he went and who he saw.

In Ops, Shyla was able to get into the locked laptop but most accounts were logged out.  She was able to get into Alice Morgan’s text messages – the laptop and Alice’s phones were synced up.  There was a confirmation code for a company called Home Connection – discrete vacation rentals.  Shyla finds Alice Morgan booked a home on Larchmont an hour after she was seen leaving her home the night before.

In Larchmont, Rountree is really impressed with the area.  Good investments homes, water views – Rountree is talking about investments when Deeks says “Alice Morgan” who he sees leaving the rental house.  Rountree says “Alice Morgan” which has the same effect of yelling “federal agents” since Alice starts to run.  After she throws a branch cutter at Deeks, Rountree gets her to stop as she’s climbing a fence.  She is armed but surrenders. 

In interrogation, Deeks is on the right side of the table while Rountree is in the corner.  Deeks is rattling on about the “Chose Your Adventures” books when Rountree says they have witnesses who saw her flee the scene of a murder.  Rountree and Deeks can sit with Alice in interrogation all day or they can help her.  Alice wonders where they were six months ago when she asked for help.  Deeks wants to know what happened six months ago.  Alice says she talked and talked and talked and nobody wanted to help.  She moves in her chair, making sure her jacket and long sleeves cover her arms.  An obviously bothered Deeks wants to take a break.  He’s getting everyone coffee.

Callen and Sam return to the office.  Cheryl, Raymond’s latest caretaker who is very into birds according to Callen, quit when Raymond started talking about war pigeons.  Mentioning that Raymond’s previous caretaker quit when he wouldn’t ride in her Mazda – Raymond likes American-made cars – Callen thinks Sam is avoiding the real issue.  Sam loves this conversation because Callen is all about avoiding issues…like his wedding date.  Sam is sure Anna will understand whatever is holding Callen back.  The Admiral walks by – everyone to Ops.

Shyla tells an arriving Callen and Sam that Alice Morgan isn’t talking.  Commander Burns sent over Morgan’s travel vouchers.  Comparing the travel vouchers to Morgan’s EZ-Pass charges, “something is rotten in Denmark” according to Shyla.  Morgan visited a number of companies that made high-grade military explosives.  After every meeting, he would go someplace 20-miles past his home.  Using Kaleidoscope, Morgan is seen driving into a storage facility in El Monte two-days before he was killed.  Sam gets a call from the caretaker agency.  He’s taking it outside of Ops.

Deeks returns alone to interrogation with a cup of coffee for Alice.  He explains it is June 30, 1990 and his mother takes him to a Cardinals-Dodgers game.  He remembers that day.  Alice doesn’t care about sports.  Deeks doesn’t either but he will always remember that day.  It was so hot.  Ice cream cones were melts as they were being passed down the row.  Alice doesn’t want to talk about the weather either.  Deeks does.  Because all he really remembers from that day – his mother wearing jeans and a long-sleeve turtleneck.  Not that it really mattered – she couldn’t cover the bruises on her face.  She wore clothes like that for the entire summer. 

Alice asks if “he” spared Deeks.  Deeks says no but kids are supposed to have bruises.  He would tell the teachers he was fighting in the playground.  “What do you tell people?”  Alice said she had nobody to tell.  Her husband made her push everyone away.  Deeks asks how long has the abuse been going on.  Physically, Alice tells him, three-years.  “Mentally, who knows.”  She doesn’t have access to their bank account.  Morgan controlled every part of her life.

Deeks asks if a few months ago, she told the Navy.  There was a  military hotline and she called.  She didn’t hear back.  She filed a report with the family advocacy center who told her they’d look into it.  Deeks has to asks and understands if she did – did Alice kill her husband?  She didn’t – she found him dead when she arrived home.  What surprised Alice was even after everything he did, she tried to save him.  It doesn’t surprise Deeks. 

Deeks asks why did she run.  Alice explains that her husband was a valuable asset to the military, “I’m not.”  She was afraid her reports would be used as motive.  She asks for a few minutes and Deeks agrees.  As he’s leaving, she mentions that her husband would smell like motor oil after he returns from his business trips.  

At home, Bertie is telling Rosa about skinny dipping at a Ramada Inn off the Strip in Vegas.  Kensi isn’t thrilled.  Rosa is really entertained.  She would like to see Adele in Las Vegas, a friend has a condo and the family would let her use it.  The friend, Tay, is from her calculus class and Bertie is down on calculus.  With a disastrous marriage, three dead-end jobs and a brush with a pyramid scheme, she never used the Pythagorean theorem.  That’s really geometry, Kensi notes but Rosa is in love.  Bertie is the coolest.  Since Rosa needs to soccer cleats, she asks Kensi to take her and Tay to the mall.  Bertie moves on to a story about taking a sound bath behind a DQ in Marfa.

At a storage unit facility, Callen, now teamed up with Shyla, is brought to Jeff Morgan’s storage unit by the manager.  The place was cleaned out but still smells like almonds and motor oil – explosives manufacturers put the scent into their product on purpose.  Callen finds a small piece of C-4.  Shyla doesn’t think Morgan was killed for the software, he was killed after using his access to these explosive manufacturers to procure some product.  Callen worries about where the explosives are now.

The woman managing the storage unit place wants all the inside scoop if there is a dead body – she has a true crime podcast.  Three men were removing boxes from the back of the storage facility when the woman started her shift.  She doesn’t have access to the video surveillance, however, only her boss can do that.  Shyla wants the woman to call her boss – they need the footage now.  Shyla is also going to contact Commander Burns to figure out what is missing.

In Ops, Kilbride confirms that Alice Morgan contacted the military abuse hotlines to Deeks and Rountree in the boat shed.  The people running the hotlines say they take all abuse complaints seriously but there wasn’t enough information to move it to NCIS.  The Pentagon invested $1-billion to remedy this situation after past failures.  Deeks wonders how much of that money could have been saved if this was a priority from the start.  The Admiral is not pleased with Deeks’s statement.  He says since Alice didn’t kill her husband, figure out if she knows who did and disconnects.

Looking at Deeks, Rountree asks how much of the story he told Alice was true.  “Every word of it,” is Deeks’s reply.

Bertie finished doing laundry though Kensi out of the dryer sheets.  Asking for Rosa, Kensi explains that she’s negotiating between Tay and a friend over a disagreement.  She also tells Bertie that she doesn’t have to do laundry.  Bertie missed doing the laundry.  Kensi tries telling her mother-in-law that she and Deeks missed her but Bertie knows better. 

Bertie also knows Kensi is feeling a bit overwhelmed by parenthood.  Kensi notes that she’s not “technically” Rosa’s parent.  Bertie asks Kensi if she loves Rosa and wants to keep her safe.  Kensi does on both.  Bertie follows up - does Kensi fear she isn’t doing enough even though she’s exhausted from doing too much.  “Every single morning.”  Bertie doesn’t care about “technically” – Kensi is Rosa’s parent.  Kensi spent her entire NCIS career being one step ahead of everyone else.  She thought she could do that with being a parent.  She couldn’t.

Bertie offers some words of wisdom from her mother about being a parent – it’s like being pecked to death by a chicken.  That’s not helpful. 

Shyla has news for “Shark Tank” – Rountree.  She’s sending video of the three men who took the explosives from the storage unit but the footage is awful.  Rountree goes into interrogation to see if Alice knows any of the men.  Alice recognizes one of the men – she met him at a wine festival.  She remembers the date – it was her birthday.  She thought he was doing something nice for her birthday.  Obviously not.  As Rountree goes to tell Shyla, Alice asks Deeks what happened to his father.  Deeks tells her he shot him and two weeks later, he was in jail.

Callen and Shyla return to the office.  She gets a call as she returns to Ops, Callen goes to see Sam in the bullpen.  They are on a video call with Commander Burns.  He assures Callen and Sam that he’s been working with ATF.  15 to 25 pounds of C-4 is missing with a lot of blasting caps and detonation cord. Callen asks abuse complaints about Morgan.  Burns did not have enough evidence to move forward.  Before Callen and Sam could press him, Shyla needs them in Ops.  They quickly end the call but promise to call back.

In Ops, Shyla found Morgan had several bank account Alice Morgan knew nothing about.  Several of them received $9,000 deposits in the prior week – a transaction amount just under the amount of money a bank would have to report to Feds.  Met World Holdings sent the money.  It is owned by an Ivan Parson, who looks like one of the man in grainy video.  Met World Holdings is an import/export business – they move fine foods and fine wines.  Parson is connected to extremist groups in Ireland, Germany and Indonesia. 

The Admiral is looking for a sitrep.  Met World Holdings has an unoccupied space in Hollywood.  Deeks is getting Alice to a safe house so Callen, Sam and a seven-minutes out Rountree are at the unoccupied space.  The Admiral reminds everyone that the job is to get back the explosives without blowing up a city block.  The only way LA is going down in flames is if the Admiral has the match.

Callen and Sam move near the building.  They can see some shelves of items and a man but he’s not Parsons.  Going through the back door, Callen and Sam see Parsons.  Sam throws a wine bottle to get one of the men’s attention.  Sam quickly takes him out but makes enough noise to get Parsons and a minion to run.  Callen tackles the friend but Parsons gets to his vehicle.  An arriving Rountree stops him but Parsons throws his bag of explosives in the air and shoots them.  That sends Rountree flying but Sam takes down Parsons with ease.

As Parsons is being taken away, Callen tells Sam and Rountree that Morgan wanted to back out of the deal but Parsons already paid for the explosives.  Morgan was either scared or greedy.  He also wasn’t as tough as he thought he was.

Deeks joins Bertie on the back porch.  They share a couple of beers as Bertie asks if he got all the cats out of the trees.  Deeks said he did his best.  Deeks wants to talk about “Dad”.  Bertie isn’t interested in her past.  Deeks doesn’t think that’s fair – it is their past.  He only wants to know how she made it through.  “Vicodin and Sally Jessy Raphael,” is her answer.  She doesn’t know. 

Bertie explains that Deeks’s father took everything from the two of them, including the person Bertie used to be. But when he was gone, with Deeks’s help, she got that person back.  She’s made a lot of mistakes since that in her life but it is her life.  Deeks approves. 

Kensi and Rosa join Deeks and Bertie on the patio.  They’re just back from the mall.  Rosa would like to visit San Francisco and Deeks is all in on that.  Bertie invites herself – she knows a thruple up in Barstow that can rent then an RV.  Deeks is horrified by his mother being in a thruple.  Bertie assure him she’s not a part of the thruple, she just knows one. 

Anna returns home.  She thought they were going to dinner but Callen has a candles and some wine.  He also got bagels.  He loves Anna and he’d marry her tomorrow.  When they get married, he wants to be surrounded by everyone that means everything to them.  Arkady and Hetty are part of the package.  Anna isn’t happy but Callen explains Hetty has been in his life from the beginning.  He can’t get married without her.  She has more of the story and he needs her to tell it.  If he doesn’t do this, Hetty will always be the other person in the room.  He doesn’t need a lot more time but Anna is giving him all the time he needs.  She only asks the he tell the truth, even with it is hard, especially when it is hard.  He promises he will.

What head canon can be formed from here:   While the case of the week wasn’t much, that felt intentional.  The guys who stole the explosives were plot points.  They weren’t the typical bad guy – they were a bunch of dudes.  The hour instead was about family relationships.  It started with the Kolcheck-Callen and  Blye-Deeks households, moved to Rountree talking about his sister, Sam with his father and then the case of the week.

This was a terrific Deeks episode.  Light and goofy dad/husband at home, sad and serious with Alice and later with the Admiral, Rountree and Bertie.  There should be a bonus for the person who decided Pamela Reed would work as Deeks’s mom.  Just as light and goofy she could be in most of the episode, she was sad and serious near the end.  That scene with them alone wasn’t just family, it was two survivors who built themselves the lives they enjoy.

For a program and an NCISVerse that is mostly pro-military, there was a real sense of disgust by Deeks and disappoint/disgust late in the episode by the Admiral over the handling of Alice’s abuse case. 

Loved the explosion that sent Rountree flying – that’s the show I know and love.

Episode number:  Episode 307 overall, the fifth episode of season 14.

[allylikethecat]

January OTP Prompts

Heyyy look at me go! Day 5 🎉

5. Shooting star

Matty shivered, turning his body closer to George, tucking himself closer against his side, trying to steal as much of his body heat as he could. They were laying in the bed of a rented pick up truck, in a nest of blankets and pillows stolen from their hotel room, the sound of the waves lapping against the shore peacefully. Matty would have enjoyed it more if he wasn’t absolutely freezing. But he appreciated the effort that George had put into it, wanting to plan a date for them that was different and special, especially knowing how much Matty disliked spending time in California. 

George chuckled, and sat up, causing Matty to whine in annoyance, if it was anyone but George who had heard it he would have been embarrassed by the high pitched hum he had emitted. 

“I’m getting you another blanket, hush,” said George, running his hand over Matty’s blanket covered thigh. He pulled the blanket that was at their feet over their bodies and Matty smiled, repositioning himself against George’s side once again, pleased now that there were two blankets covering his shivering form. 

He hadn’t realized that California got cold, in his mind it was perpetually blue skies and sunny. It was sweat dripping down his back, causing his tee shirt to stick uncomfortably to his skin. Instead he found himself wearing George’s sweatshirt over his own long sleeve tee shirt, and track pants, while he wished he had worn warm socks instead of the cool ones with the cartoon frogs on them that George had given him as a joke for his birthday last year, as if George would only gift him socks. He was cold, and George had snapped at him to stop when he had tried to shove his frozen fingers under the hem of George’s sweater, hoping to warm them against the heat of the soft skin of his flank. 

“We can head back if you’re really that miserable,” said George, smoothing out the blanket, guilt heavy in his voice, his words vibrating against where Matty was pressed against his chest.

Matty bit his lip, his own guilt blooming in his chest. “No, no this is lovely, I’m just cold, but I’m sure I’ll warm up in a moment.” 

He didn’t want to meet George’s eye, he didn’t want him to see that he was lying through his chattering teeth. He appreciated the thought behind George setting up a romantic evening of stargazing. He just wished George had thought of it in July or August, not March. He turned his gaze back to the dark inky sky, littered with little speckles of light, the stars. Matty wasn’t sure where they were, just that they had driven far enough out to avoid the light pollution of the city. 

His eyes widened, “George,” he said, tapping George’s chest as if George was capable of ignoring him when they were pressed together like this, “George, look! It’s a shooting star! George! Look! Make a wish!” 

Matty squeezed his eyes shut, and made his wish while George chuckled. 

“Matty, love, that was an airplane.” 

Matty opened his eyes, and frowned. “Does that mean my wish isn’t going to come true?” 

“Depends,” asked George, still laughing to himself as he shifted Matty off of his body to dig the truck keys out of his pocket, “did you wish to go back to the hotel?” 

Day: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

[iregreteverythingpleasehelpme]

saw somebody say that trump and biden are like dnf and... uh I thought a heat waves edit of them should exist so I am sorry

(flash warning)

my otp fr

[muekyn]

10, 14, 17, and 18!

₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎, An ask game for your OTP or self ship! Answers can... (tumblr.com)

hello jaz! :D thank you so much for this, i havent written anything in a while so these were super fun ! ^_^

10- Write about your ship helping each other get ready for the day in the morning.

“how’s this? too tight?” summer asked, trying to loop the belts on eren’s odm gear.

“uh- yeah-” eren wheezed, his body straining from the pull of the belt.

“oop. sorry,” summer replied, letting out a breathy laugh. “don’t know my own strength sometimes.”

summer made the final adjustments to eren’s equipment. her touch was gentle and slow, carefully ensuring that all of eren’s gear was properly fastened on him. silently, she admired eren. the way his hair perfectly framed his face. his large stature. his gentle eyes.

once eren was situated with his gear, he took it upon himself to help summer with hers, much to her surprise.

summer was a nervous wreck the whole time. heat rushed to her cheeks whenever eren’s face met hers. he was completely unaware of how embarrassed summer was, as he was too focused on helping her with her gear.

when he did look at her, however, he was speechless. it felt so intimate, to be so close to each other. eren seemed to suddenly realize just how close he was to her, and seemed to clam up himself. with shaky hands, he would stare at summer as he fastened the belts to her body, consuming her with his eyes.

of course, summer couldn’t meet his gaze. it was too intense.

the remainder of the morning was spent with shy stares and gentle words exchanged with one another.

14- Write about your ship celebrating their anniversary.

the waves from the beach pushed back and forth, their rhythmic sounds providing comfort. this night, the stars seemed brighter than usual. they twinkled with such fascination and wonder, unspoken beauty and elegance radiating from their luminescence. 

after a long day of sightseeing around the coasted shore, summer and eren rested by a rather large fire pit that eren had set up. their feet dug into the sand, feeling the particles of grains tickle their skin. the cool beach air contrasted the warmth from the almost-too-large fire.

in this moment, everything felt extraordinary. for summer, sitting underneath the stars with eren was all she could have asked for. all she could ever dream of was right next to her, gently looking at her with those beautiful eyes of his. feeling his chest rise and fall against her body provided her with so much comfort, so much unwavering love and devotion for the man.

eren took a bit of amusement out of summer’s star struck face. with a small laugh, he planted a kiss on her forehead, tenderly deepening the grip he had on her.

“happy anniversary, summer,” eren said, nuzzling his head against hers. “i love you.”

17- Write about your ship sharing hot drinks together.

“are you sure…?” summer questioned, taking the warm cup out of eren’s hands.

“trust me. it tastes better this way,” eren nodded, a small smile on his face.

hesitantly, summer took a sip of the drink.

truthfully, she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel. the drink had a hint of hibiscus to it, but had a juice-like consistency. it was an odd sensation; expecting a familiar coldness to the drink, yet being met with such an intense amount of warmth. nonetheless, it was soothing; it was healing. 

summer took another sip while eren poured himself a cup of the deep red liquid.

“next time, i’ll heat us up some celery juice,” eren snickered at summer, watching her scrunch her face with a mixture of disgust and confusion.

“don’t tell me you actually drink that…” she retorted.

“what? it’s like soup, but just the vegetable taste,” eren proclaimed, seeming unphased by her reaction.

18- Write about how each member of your ship smells.

eren has the aroma of eucalyptus and a hint of bonfire. there’s a bit of an earthy, natural smell to eren, but nothing too intense. his breath is also slightly minty, almost a taste of cinnamon to it. effortlessly- he smells good.

summer, on the other hand, smells like sulfur and death. (mainly because she usually doesn’t take care of her hygiene.)  however, when she’s able to care for herself, she smells similar to a coconut, as well as vanilla.

Soft OTP or Self Ship Prompts

[autumnslance]

Year of the OTP - September 2023 - I Wrote This For You

("Meet the Family" has a...long draft I'm still not happy with after 2 years of Endwalker. So have some 885ish words of yearning instead.)

[A letter in nearly type-perfect cursive font, the envelope also containing a pressed white flower yet retaining its sweet scent, delivered surreptitiously via postmoogle to the top of a certain gunbreaker’s pack…]

This is not at all fair.

I toss and turn, staring into the darkened ceiling and wonder when I became so restless. So needy.

I sprawl across the mattress, too big for only myself, missing you. It’s only been hours since we parted, only last night that we held one another, but that doesn’t seem to matter.

It’s not quite an ache, but almost, and I’ve no other words to describe it, running up and down my arms, my legs. A need to be touching, to be holding—but there’s only empty air.

A very specific not-quite-heated-ache low in my abdomen, between my legs, a sensation that will not be sated except by your touch.

I roll over and bury my flushing face in a pillow.

I didn’t used to feel such things. I used to not understand what others meant when describing wants and aches and needs. It was surely an exaggeration. Hyperbole for poetry and songs.

Even when we first met, and others hurled themselves at you, insistent—even desperate—I rolled my eyes and thought they were overdoing it. Certainly, physical intimacy can be enjoyable, but so is a game of tag, or cards, or simply sitting together discussing a book. Handsome you are, but I was convinced they were playing it up to win your attention.

Then somewhere, somehow, though I didn’t mean to, along our long and winding way I fell for you. And it seemed as if my entire world shifted.

The gleam in your eyes, the crook of your smile, the gentle roughness of your hands, the steady beat of your heart in your warm chest when pulling me close. All of you is a conspiracy to rewire my every reaction.

I understand now what it means to melt after seeing the ways you look at me. You ask me to tell you what I want, voice low and rough, and the frisson it causes is not imaginary. It shivers through me now, even just imagining you leaning over my back, calloused fingers on my skin, puff of hot breath on my neck, the rumble in your voice pitched just so…

I flip over again. Still alone. 

I could never be mistaken for wanton. There’s still much I don’t understand. I still need to be coaxed and encouraged because this is all so new and a little embarrassing and a lot messy and I worry my inexperience, my need for guidance, just isn't enough to keep you.

I’ve come to realize there are times you neglect your own wants and needs to tend to mine. And while I am grateful for your attention and your patience, I need your happiness too. 

There’s my blush again, as I think about not just your happiness but your pleasure, in duet with mine. The clench of your fingers in my hair, the tension in your neck and jaw as you arch. The way you moan, or call my name.

Your pleased reactions please me. And gods, the thought of seeing, hearing, feeling them again brings a fresh wave of aching in my limbs, more heat pooling low.

I want you. I need you.

I didn’t used to feel this way.

I didn’t see you, after hours or days or weeks, and think about how much longer it will be until I can have you alone, and then in my bed. Until we’re holding, kissing, touching…

There’s so much more to us than this; after all this time, all we’ve been through together. Some days I only want to sit silently in the same room, each doing our own work or play, basking in your company, your presence in my life more than enough.

Then there are nights like this, when I realize oh no, it wasn’t hyperbole, wasn’t exaggeration. That another person, that you, can make me burn and those desires will be the most wonderful and terrifying sensations.

I miss you, though it’s barely been twelve hours since you kissed me goodbye.

And so, since I cannot sleep, here I am writing down all the ways you make me yearn.

How I am counting the time until I have you here again, wrapped in each others arms, breath catching as lips and fingers find those perfect spots we each know so well on one another’s skin, your voice rumbling in my ear, demanding I tell you what I need but it’s you, just you, moving against me, with me, in me, until we both sing.

I would never have written anything like this before you. I would never have dreamed of sending such words as a letter. But I need you to know how loving you has altered my internal chemistry, and that cannot wait until we are face to face once more.

For one thing, you know I will be too shy to say it aloud. I can see you in my mind’s eye, smiling as you imagine my blushing.

But we have ever connected over written words, so here are mine, for you to hold and read and reread and imagine me imagining you until we are together again.