#well he probably went to a tailor but you know

[seefasters]

ok i know i'm approaching "i never noticed she's holding a plate of corn" levels of gomens posting here but aziraphale seems to own at least 4 near identical coats and it's cracking me up a bit

there's his regular coat (long, beige, big pockets on each side)

there's his in house coat (white-greyish, two sets of pockets, smaller lapels, and it also looks to be made from a thicker fabric) i call it his in house coat because he only ever wears it inside. here's him getting maggie's note in the grey coat

and here's him in the next scene in her shop, now in the regular coat

the third coat is his detective/newspaperman coat

long, same color as his regular coat, no pockets, lots of useless buttons, weird things on his shoulders, and it seems to be slightly too big for him and finally there's the 1941 coat

it's nearly identical to his regular coat except it's darker and thicker, and the lapels have this weird triangular shape. coincidentally, crowley's lapels in the present day are in the same style/shape

[irndad]

hii dollface, would u write smtg abt hotch being jealous?

like he's trying to hide it from making the team notices when he saw some officer flirting with r?

no pressure in writing, lovey. change it however u want or ignore it if u dont feel like writing it (i completely understands u 🤍)

my love this has lived in my brain so relentlessly <3 i hope you love it!!!! thank you for requesting!! wc: 1.7k

It is incredibly easy to like her.

She’s charismatic in a way that’s almost universally appealing, and he’s memorized the shape of her wide grin. She smiles with her whole face, and Aaron hasn’t really spent too much time trying to make people smile. He’s had success in some ways, but when she smiles at him there’s something in his chest that burns in achingly lovely way. 

At first, he had assumed her kindness was a way to win him over. In her first week, she had noticed there was a rip in his tie (which he’s not sure how could even happen) and she’d whipped out a pocket sewing kit, repairing it. 

He tries not to think about the fact that she’s beautiful. She is, though, in spirit and in appearance. He’s an expert in controlled presentation, but to some extent she must know that’s he’s fond of her. 

When they’d first met (which he can still picture in his minds’ eye- her oversized sweater tucked into her tailored pants, the purple lipstick adorning her beautiful smile) he’d tried to keep his distance. It’s easy to romanticize her, and being her friend felt a little impossible when seeing her as more felt so inevitable.

This plan did not go well, and Aaron had officially tossed it when one day, the babysitter for Jack fell through when he was halfway around the world. She’d picked him up from school and tended to him, and Aaron had come home to a blanket fort on his kitchen floor, and a happy little boy who wanted her to come over every day. 

So it's a little hard to ignore how much he adores her. 

She doesn’t normally want to come out to the scene and they usually don’t require it, but they’re going out to a place she spent most of her twenties, and she knew people in the local PD, so Aaron had asked her to come. 

She’d done so without complaint, although he knows she doesn’t sleep well on the jet. No one knows where the nicer pillows and blankets came from, and Aaron would prefer it that way. 

Anyway. 

The bullpen of this department is chaotic and a certain caretaking is living at the edge of Aaron’s consciousness, a protective desire to keep her from the loudness and violence that she’s typically protected from. 

He’s still thinking this, when he hears her voice over the chaotic hum of the department. 

“Oh my god, Logan!”

Her voice is joyful, and when Aaron turns to see who she’s looking at, it’s an agent. He can tell that he’s not a police officer for many reasons- the fact that he’s got a long, shaggy haircut and a 5 o clock shadow and a leather jacket on his shoulders. The local police would be too strict, and he must be some kind of different authority to be allowed to be here.

He hears the stranger call her name back, and they hug. 

It’s a quick thing, but imbued with deep fondness. Aaron’s not sure he’s ever hugged her for more than a second- just a congratulations when his commendation came in. She’d smelled like roses. 

Now, she’s hugging Logan. 

“Hotch,” she says, a smile still in her voice, “This is Logan! We went to graduate school together. He’s brilliant, I can’t believe he’s down here.”

Her voice is seeped in admiration, and Aaron feels an ugly amount of what can only be described as jealousy. 

“Great to meet you. You’re the unit chief, yeah?”

“SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he offers the man a curt nod, “Have you met the team?”

He goes through the motions of introducing him to the team- he greets Reid with a warm smile and tells him that he’s read his papers. Logan compliments Emily’s shirt, and Morgan’s watch. 

He’s incredibly charismatic.

Is Aaron charismatic? He doesn’t think so. His team, who probably adore him as much as anyone could, still note that he can be harsh, prickly. He never smiles, he knows. He lacks expressiveness. Logan is all fluid movement and easy conversation, and when he takes the jacket off, Aaron sees a great deal of tattoos on his forearm, his sweater sleeves slid up. 

He’d smile for her. 

What should be a good thing, but hurts- Logan is an excellent consultant profiler. He’s thoughtful and helpful and she has an easy rapport with him. Aaron- he’s so bad at talking to women. 

She makes Aaron feel like he’s good at it though. When they drive together, the conversation is easy and feels nice. It’s like sunbathing, basking in the light of her attention and intention. 

With the help of the man that Aaron has decided he hates, the case is finished up quickly. 

He can’t shake the thought they’ve probably dated. It’s not his business- this crush, although this word feels inadequate for the intensity of the way she makes him feel. It’s a private thing he’s never going to act on- he’s older and her superior, and besides- 9 stab wounds and a lifetime worth of issues is a million times less appealing than someone like Logan. Young, exuberant probably not too afraid to ask for what he wants.

“Drink tonight?” Logan asks the team, and a chorus of yes’s and please’s echo through the emptying bullpen. 

“Raincheck,” she says to Logan, “I’ll see you next time I’m in town, yeah?” She beams at him, hugging him in a quick-but-too-long-for-Aaron’s-taste motion, and the string in Aaron’s chest that feels like it’s been pulled all week threatens to pull him under.

After everyone files out, she offers to help him fill out paperwork in his office. It’s just like her, so kind and sweet. Spending her free time filling out reports to make his workload go easier.

About a half hour of amenable silence passes, before Aaron chooses to speak.

“So, you and Logan.”

“He’s great, right?”

Regrettably, Aaron agrees.

“He seems very kind.”

“Yeah, he and his fiancee are really fun. They travel all over, kite-board and do tons of adventure stuff, he’s pretty awesome.”

A moment passes.

It’s like a balloon losing air, the feeling of relief taking the place of panic.

“I thought you two were romantically involved.” He doesn’t know how to verbalize things casually. If he lets it up, he might do something dangerous like tell her that he wants to be someone who romances her, wants to be the person who kisses her after dates and holds an umbrella over her head when she’s caught in the rain. He wants to be what she comes homes to, and it’s a confession living in the back of his throat, threatening to escape at every moment. 

She sucks in a harsh breath, and he wonders if it’s a misstep to have told her- it’s not a confession, really. It sounds like one though- why would he care? What makes it his business?

“Not that that’s relevant to me,” he stammers, “You’re free to engage with whoever you’d like-“

“I know, Hotch.” She doesn’t grace him with his first name, but her voice is fond and warm, her doe eyes meeting his. He likes it, he decides. 

“I’m not seeing him,” she continues, her body shifting to face him, “I think he’s a little…casual for me.”

He thinks of Logan’s leather jacket and unshaven face, rugged appearance and compares it to how he presents himself- clean cut and sharp lines, his suits tailed to fit him like a glove. 

“You prefer something a little more…dignified?” He hears himself say with more confidence then he feels- her implication is clear, but he wonders if he’s mishearing it. 

She tips her head back and he hears her lovely laugh ring through the air like something sacred, and he waits to hear her response. 

“I don’t know, I just know that I’ve been liking this guy for a while,” she muses, looking down at her fingernails, “But he hasn’t seemed to pick up on any of my hints.”

On one of his braver days, he’d told her that he liked that purple lipstick. He hasn’t seen her without it since. She’d always been so kind to everyone that it was hard to notice when her treatment towards him was special, but he thinks it might be. How quick she offers to help with Jack- gives away a Saturday evening to spend with him, even though she sees too much of his face at work.

Her friend from grad school offered to get drinks, and she’s here, telling him what she looks for in a guy.

He tries to be logical about the whole thing, but it’s a bit hard- she’s funny and warm and Aaron loves being around her- loves her company enough to maybe ask for more of it. 

“If this ‘guy’ did like you,” he murmurs, intentionally not meeting her gaze, the precision of which is boring a hole into the side of his head, “How would he go about that?”

He’s not sure what the point of being coy is now, but he can’t seem to stop. He does look down to her and meet her eyes. 

“I think I’d probably corner him,” she says breathlessly. They’re quite close together, now. He wonders if she likes his aftershave. She tugs a hundred through her hair, a nervous but incredibly attractive gesture, “Y’know, if everyone we worked with went to get drinks, and it was just us. If he was amenable to that.”

“If he was amenable to that.”

A rush of emotion licks up his spine- it’s fun, flirting with her. The creep of warmth on her cheek, how her fingers are brushing hers. 

“I think he might be.”

Purple lipstick, rose perfume mixing with the scent of expensive aftershave- he thinks he might be able to kiss her, now. He’s never been good at knowing when to take the jump, but this is something he can do. He can let her know that he wants it. 

She reads him well enough, it turns out, and she kisses him. It’s a surprise and he is so rusty at this and yet- his hand stand on the small of her back, pulling her in and he can feel her lovely smile against him. She’s warm and joyful and she’d kissed him, and all he could do was lean in-

“I think he might be too.” She says, significantly less color on her lips, and more on his, he imagines.

She doesn’t have to wonder, though. When Aaron kisses her again, he decides- he will make her incredibly certain of his affections. 

[zepskies]

A Line and a Half

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

AN: Okay, here’s my first toe-dip into the world of Tracker with Russell Shaw! 1x12 gave me too many ideas not to explore this intriguing character. This is set before episode 12, but I have a little series I want to sketch out that will continue after this one-shot, so think of this as a “Part 1,” if you will. 😉

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: A kind of “meet cute,” attempts at flirting, and hints of setup for more to come…

You watched, silently simmering, as Dr. Goldstein added yet another packet of internship applications from his graduate students onto your desk.

Applicants that he, as the History Department Chairman, was supposed to review himself. Instead, he’d been adding these hours quite literally onto your desk. 

“If you could review these for me as well, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said. “Get ‘em back to me by Thursday, okay?”

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name, you once again grated internally at sweetheart, but you tried to keep that cringe off your face as well.

Goldstein barely even met your eyes when he dropped off his burden, and then aimed to leave your office.

“Uh, Paul,” you called out, raising a finger. You stood from your desk as quickly as you could in your pencil skirt, but the man was already out the door. You followed him out, your heels clacking on the tile floor. 

Damn it. Knew I should’ve gone with pants, you said, continuing to hasten after your boss.

“Paul! Just a second,” you said. That finally managed to turn the man’s head off of his phone. He glanced at you while checking his watch.

“About the internship applications…and your midterm exam essays for that matter. Don’t you think—” you started to say, but the man spoke over you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said, and rolled a seemingly stiff shoulder under his tailored blazer. “Something’s just not right here after my trip to Cali last weekend. I don’t know what I did, pulled muscle or something. But hey, they do say parasailing is a sport.”

You quirked a brow. “Do they?”

You weren’t sure that being strapped into a parachute for a nice air glide over the Pacific counted as a sport.

Goldstein shrugged at your question and he kept walking down the hall. Though he turned back to toss you a pointed finger.

“Need those by Thursday. Thanks, you’re the best,” he said.

You watched him go, as proverbial steam began to escape through your ears. Slowly you pivoted on your heels, and you went back to your office. You grimaced at the large stack of applications. You were pretty sure he padded them with an extra section of midterm exams.

Tapping your nails on your desk, you grabbed your phone next to your desktop and checked the time. 11:30 a.m.

Screw it. I’m going to lunch, you thought.

Dory had to be out of her Intro Physics class by now, which meant she’d be in her office, ready for you to drop in on her a little early. You took up your purse and almost made it out the door…but at the last moment, your anal brain made you turn back to grab a shoulder bag and the pile of applications. Maybe you could knock out a few during lunch.

Friggin’ doormat, as your brother would say. Laughing at you, probably.

You rolled your eyes and headed back out the door with your haul of papers, purse, work bag, and keys, locking your office behind you.

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

It was damn near a mile walk from your Humanities building over to Dory’s office on the second floor. Your hands were laden with packets that couldn’t be contained by your heavy work bag, your purse was slipping off your shoulder, and these heels were killing your feet.

It was a miracle you and Dory had ever met on this campus. On your first day of teaching, you’d of course been hopelessly lost. Somehow you ended up at the tail-end of one of her classes in one of the science auditoriums.

She’d been gracious enough to help you, and even walked you all the way to the Humanities building so you could find your World History class before the students decided to just get up and leave. (And after fifteen minutes, they very well would.)

That day, she became your first real friend at Wyoming University. In the three years since, she’d become your best friend.

And now, her door was mercifully open halfway. You pushed it open and stumbled just a little from the transition of tile to carpet inside her office. Your papers nearly flew from your hands, so you struggled to right yourself and contain them all back into the semblance of neatness.

“Hey, girl. You better be ready for lunch because Jesus fucking Christ. Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

He was leaning casually with an elbow propped up on her desk, dressed in jeans and a worn, pale green jacket—a good match for his eyes. He looked a little rugged for Dory’s tastes, but you couldn’t fault her, with the cut of that bearded jaw, and the smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” Dory laughed. “I see you’re having a good day.”

You bit your lip in embarrassment, probably smudging your lipstick.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked first,” you said, though you could see she seemed to be having an actual good day. Office picnic? Or maybe the handsome stranger was getting ready to take her out.

Dory just waved you in. She stood and set a hand on her companion’s shoulder, and he got up along with her.

“It’s okay. This is my brother, Russell,” she said, and she introduced you in kind.

“Well, hi there,” he said. He subtly took you in with his eyes as he held out his hand. Already you felt your face heating up with more than just embarrassment.

You were a bit shocked as well, to say the least. Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers. You wondered which one this was, the middle child, or the eldest.

“Hi! Sorry. Again. Nice to meet you,” you said. You tried to hold your hand out to reach his, but a few papers began to spill out. You clutched at them on reflex, but Russell drew in quickly to help you.

“Got yourself a load there,” he said. You agreed with an awkward laugh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“My boss’s idea of extra credit,” you said wryly.

“You can set it down on that chair over there,” Dory said, pointing to one against the back wall, next to a tall filing cabinet.

You and Russell meandered over and managed to set down the stack without casualty. You were able to pull up the straps of your bag and your purse from falling off your shoulder and give him a grateful look.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said, giving you an easy smile back. “I actually crashed in unannounced, so if you two wanna to head to lunch, you go right ahead.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen you in months! You should come with us,” Dory said. She grabbed her purse to join you and Russell by the door.

You raised your hands in placation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You guys should catch up.”

Dory shook her head and grabbed your hand.

“Uh, uh. I want to hear the latest on Paul’s bullshit, and why you’re carrying half your office across campus. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured at your work bag. “Leave that here. You’re gonna eat and talk to me. No working involved.”

You laughed, but you agreed to her cajoling. With another glance at her brother, and those green eyes that seemed to be dancing, you joined them for lunch.

The three of you ended up at a diner that you and Dory frequented at least once a week. The food was good, the service was quick, and it was close to campus. Wins all around. Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, as he hummed in delight after the very first bite of his Philly cheesesteak.

“Sriracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile.

“I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

Ugh. Another sweethearting man. You narrowed your own eyes at him a bit. He caught the look and raised a hand in defense (the one that wasn’t holding his cheesesteak).

“Uh oh. What’d I do?” he asked.

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh. “Dr. Goldstein likes to sugar coat his demands with sexism.”

Russell noted your souring look with apology. You’d just finished recounting your morning for your friend, and recapping years of “sugar-coated demands” for Russell.

“Why don’t you just tell him to cram it up his…uh…” he paused. Seeing his little sister’s look of amusement, he amended. “Or you know, stuff it.”

A smile twitched at your lips. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to tell him to stuff it. But he’s technically my boss, and the department chair. Even though I’ve basically been doing his job for two years now.”

“Well, that sucks,” Russell said. “And I feel for ya. I’ve had my share of shitty bosses in my time.”

You sighed and accepted his commiseration with a nod.

It wasn’t fair, but Goldstein planned to retire early in a few years. Must be nice.

When he did, it would make you the most likely candidate to replace him as department chair. The way you saw it, this was giving you plenty of practice before you (hopefully) inherited the position.

Anyway, you shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were more curious about one Russell Shaw. You now knew he was an army vet, and he carried himself like one. Calm, controlled, even though his smiles came easy. His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

“So let me guess. You’re…the eldest?” you asked. You blotted at your mouth with a napkin, having finished your chicken panini.

Russell treated you to another one of those smiles, though this one held a hint of more.

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

You found yourself smiling behind your napkin.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

Dory rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Apparently my brother’s an incorrigible flirt.”

He chuckled and sipped at his beer, but then he grimaced.

“Ech. Friggin’ weak,” he said. “I brew better than this outta the trunk of my car.”

 You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

“Damn straight,” he said. His gaze turned a hint more playful. “Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

You shared a telling look with Dory.

“Next time, huh?” you asked.

“Sure,” he inclined his head. “I pop into town from time to time. Gotta check in and pester my little sister, the physics professor.” 

He laid a hand on Dory’s shoulder, squeezing warmly. You could see the pride in his eyes, and it warmed you as well.

She turned to him with a smile, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.

“You don’t pester me. I’d love it if I got to see you more often,” she said.

“Ah, I know, I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her. “My job’s got me all over the place. But I’ll be here for a week or so on this gig.”

That intrigued you. “What do you do for work?”

“Ah, well, you could say I'm a contractor. Private security mainly,” said Russell. His shoulders shifted as he became a little more guarded, you noticed. “My company connects me with the client for as long as the job lasts. Could be a few months, sometimes a few days, depending.”

“Oh, wow. Do you live here in Wyoming?” you asked. He paused, but tilted his head a little, back and forth as he considered your question.

“I kinda bounce around,” he said. “Just go from one job to the next. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I know, but it’s a living.”

“Interesting,” you nodded, but inside, you thought that sounded like a hard way to live.

Unstable…and lonely. 

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said. She folded her hands on the table and met her brother with a pointed look.

He huffed in response, though he glanced at you, then back at his sister. As if he was saying, You really want to do this now?

Dory had told you before that Colter was a “rewardist,” or some kind of bounty hunter. The nature of his work kept him busy, and seemingly too busy for his sister. But you also sensed there was an edgier history here.

For the first time, you felt like you were intruding in a moment between brother and sister that went beyond words.

After a moment, Russell shook his head.

“Look, I tried with him, all right? He won’t talk to me,” he said. He went back to eating, polishing off his fries. He offered you one that was half-smothered in sriracha.

“Come on. Live on the edge with me,” he teased.

You eyed the sauce-covered fry in distaste, but after glancing up at his more playful smile, you accepted his offer. You chewed in contemplation, and found that the tangy hint of kick wasn’t so bad. 

“Eh? Eeeh? Delicious, am I right?” he said, his hands going wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded in agreement.

“It’s all right,” you replied.

“Yes!” Russell’s hands swept up higher, like he was celebrating a touchdown. "See, I told ya."

You couldn’t help but laugh. Dory shook her head fondly and gave him a clean napkin for the bit of schmutz she spotted at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, wipe your sriracha face.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, as Russell helped you gather your stack of papers and slung your work bag over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m a bonafide gentleman. Ain’t that right, D?” he asked his sister. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but she did give you a knowing smile.

“Oh, his intentions are pure,” she said.

 And by that, you both understood her meaning. His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

This man really carried your stuff from the Sciences building across the entire campus to your office. All the while, he asked you about how you and Dory met, the kinds of things you two did together, and if you thought she was happy working here.

You had a feeling he was trying to learn more about his sister’s life. On one hand, it was rather sweet. On the other, it made you realize that there was distance in this family, both literal and figurative. You were glad to hear that Russell, at least, was trying to bridge that gap with his sister. Dory deserved to have more of that in her life.

As you explained to Russell while you led him down the hall to your office, your friendship with her had just…clicked. From the very beginning.

“Dory, you know. She’s more than kind,” you said. “She’s a real one. I can rely on her, even when I can’t rely on my own family.”

Russell hummed at that. “That sounds like a story.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away for a moment. You smiled and met his gaze once more. “Maybe one for another time.”

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked. Your smile deepened.

It was good timing when you two finally reached your office. You unlocked it and let him inside, so he could set down your bag, and the god-forsaken stack of internship applications back onto your desk. You’d probably be stuck here working late on those.

“Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to schlep for me,” you said.

When you turned, Russell was a bit close. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make a trill of something zip up your spine. You smelled more intensely his cologne, woodsy and warm. Looking up at him, you once again found his smile.

“It’s no problem,” he said, but his eyes met yours for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous.

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

It took your brain a second or two to compute, but when his words registered, you had to laugh. You held it behind your hand, while the other went to steady yourself on your desk.

 “Well, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” you said, shading your “soulful” eyes with a hand.

You didn’t know it, but Russell’s face warmed in slight embarrassment. He recovered though, taking in your pretty laugh, and the shade of your hair, let loose around your shoulders, and yes, your eyes, when you let him see them again.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was convinced.

He wanted to see more of you before he left town.

“Hey, now that was 100% genuine,” Russell said, but his grin spoke volumes. When your mirth died down, he scratched the back of his head.

“Okay, cards on the table. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me sometime?” he asked.

You took in a breath at that. You actually did consider his offer, because homebrew and sriracha fries be damned, there was something more to him. It was lying in wait, behind those eyes that were drawing you in.

However, this was also a man whose job basically made him a nomad. It didn’t exactly scream relationship material.

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

You just didn’t know if that alternative was such a good idea. Not with your best friend’s brother.

“Just a drink. No frills, no more grilling you about my sister,” Russell said, breaking you from your deliberation. He gestured a hand between the two of you. “Just this. You and me.”

Eventually, you sighed. Your lips raised into a more genuine smile.

“Sometime, huh?” you asked.

He smiled back. “Tonight?”

You hesitated, but despite your better judgment, you nodded before you could change your mind. You still weren’t sure what to make of this guy, but you were willing to find out.

“Sure,” you said. “Howley’s at eight?”

“Well, all right,” Russell said.

He surprised you by sweeping up your hand into his. You looked up at him, curious, but not wary. Anticipation tingled down your spine.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. Soft shock made your eyes widen as you blushed, feeling the subtle graze of his beard against your skin.

Who is this guy, Cary Grant? you thought.

But when he pulled away, you had to remind yourself to breathe. Again, you caught sight of his cheeky grin.   

“See you tonight,” he said.

AN: He is beauty he is grace, he is Mr. Sriracha Face. 😆

Let me know if you guys liked this! 💜 It's my first time writing a character based solely on one episode, but next up is a series that will continue this one-shot. It's called Every Second Counts.

Next Time in Part 1:

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still on the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 1

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@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

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[queers-gambit]

Love What You've Done with the Place

song by Rascal Flatts

prompt: he's never been a man built for relationships, until you come into his life. now, the house feels like a home.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: more brain rot rambles, probably cursing, NOT edited, very docile, fluff, romance, hardened men being simps.

It started with clothes. Just a few, here and there; left behind, forgotten, purposefully stuffed in his dresser for when you stayed the nights. He didn't mind, in fact, Tangerine encouraged you to bring whatever you felt comfortable with leaving since he hated how early you'd leave in the mornings to get ready for work. He found his mornings were peaceful when you were around; neither rushed, both content, starting your days on high notes with each other.

So, he made the decision and found an old sitting-vanity for you. He put it in his bedroom simply because he was fascinated with the hair and make-up process; thinking it was incredible that women had such skill. When he came home about 3 months ago, he noticed your vanity when he first got home from a particularly difficult mission. Your chair was draped in an old university tee shirt, and he smiled.

It was like watching your comfort grow and it warmed something deep in Tangerine's heart. Your make-up wasn't always in a neat array, sometimes just left from a quick touch-up; making the house feel more like a home.

Tangerine also bought a strainer for the shower's drain to catch your hair. He didn't get angry like previous boyfriends did when he found strands of your hair left behind - not on purpose or by some gross standard, but it was natural that hair shed in a shower and not every single strand could be picked up. So, to make life easier, he just quietly bought the hair trap, placed it, removed whatever empty bottles from the shower, and went about his day. But then he started to notice your hair left other places.

His counters, his sink, the floor, your vanity, his bed sheets and pillows.

Tangerine had his issues with possessiveness in the past, but this wasn't remotely similar. No, Tangerine found himself smiling when he would find your hair in his clothes; thinking it was funny, almost like a mark or badge of honor to designate him as yours. It was a brief thought, but Tangerine actually felt giddy by the idea of people just knowing he was off the market 'cause his lady's hair was clung to his suit jackets.

He liked it. He really did. He'd not admit it aloud, but he liked it.

Tangerine wasn't the most humble man in the world, but he certainly liked to flash what was his. Golden jewelry, expensive, tailored suits, shining Italian leather shoes. And now, you, the woman who invaded his heart and head - and now his home. He adored showing you off, feeling affirmed and invigorated by the longing glances men threw your way, and while he expected jealousy from other women, they seemed more impressed by your beauty and grace as well.

He remembers one night, after a several weeks long mission, he just wanted to hold you. His throat was a little choked up when he called you, knowing you were at home after reading an earlier text. So, you rushed over in the middle of the night and he'd yet to let you go home - three days later.

"You've gonna have to let me out of bed sometime," you smiled playfully. "I have work tomorrow - and no, I'm not calling out again."

"C'mon, love, don't leave me alone," he whispered, looking like a beaten down puppy. The mission was much harder than he'd let on, but Lemon usually always filled you in. He thought it was important for you to know certain details that Tangerine was sure to omit, knowing those were the details that haunted him.

"I'll be back after my shift," you promised, nuzzling his nose with your own. "I also need new panties and clean clothes."

He sighed, "Some in there," he pointed to his closet now.

"What?" You giggled.

"You've left enough behind, got a bit of a collection goin', yeah?" He smiled softly, wrapping you back up in his arms. With a sigh, he relented, "I'll let yah go to work, love, just... Need this a bit longer."

You obliged, but the next day, you were gone before he woke up. With a frown, Tangerine dropped back onto the bed - but inhaled deeply when his nose buried into your pillow. He hummed in pleasure, feeling himself brim with contentment, bringing the fluffy item to his chest and nuzzling it; your perfume left behind to soothe him.

Was Tangerine clingy? Oh, for sure! He didn't think so, but you knew better. The contract killer liked you close, liked his hands on you; even if it was just a hand on your waist or a nose near your neck. He missed you when gone, but he usually held himself back from texting you all day - wanting you to be able to focus on your job.

But that day? He was inept, just wanting you; wondering if he paid you the same salary, if you'd consider just staying home. So, he texted you several times.

This obviously threw you off a little, knowing him better than himself most days. But he just missed you, so, you sent a selfie - promising you missed him too and would be home right after work.

He saved the photo and tried not to dwell on how you said you'd "be home" and not "come to his place". He had to take a few moments to calm down, feeling his heart zing with unfamiliarity - but not being afraid of it like he had been when you first started dating. He could recognize he was happy, that he was excited to see you everyday, and that the idea of coming home to you was far too appealing to ignore any longer.

It seemed neither of you needed to actually have an official conversation about living together. Lemon didn't mind, in fact, he was the one who insisted you have your own key; adoring you and whatever affect you had on his emotionally constipated brother. So, some mornings, Tangerine wasn't surprised to find a slightly damp towel left hanging in the bathroom, nor by the make-up on his counter - you using that mirror because of the fluorescent lighting. He never put it back, he didn't move it - he liked seeing it. It meant you were still here, and the idea of it being gone made his stomach knot with anxiety. He also wasn't surprised when he went to use the shampoo you insisted would help his curls flourish (you were right), only to find it damn-near empty. His shower gel, too.

When you came home that evening, you had Target bags in hand; replacing whatever was empty, making Tangerine grin to himself by how in-sync he felt with you. He'd never had a connection such as this, only ever feeling close enough to Lemon, but you changed everything for them both.

How Tangerine ended up with someone courteous was truly beyond either of them. Someone kind, caring, adventurous, sweeter than pie - someone definitely out of Tangerine's league, something he never let himself forget. He adored you to your core - thinking someone such as you should never have gotten tangled up in someone like him, but he knew, if the time ever came, he'd never be able to let you go. In fact, most days, he had to convince himself not to just pick you up and carry you around while he did chores or ran errands.

The very idea of losing you sent his heart into his stomach; hallowing his chest in a harrowing fashion that made it hard to breathe. Just a week or two ago, Lemon found Tangerine in the kitchen, hand to his chest as if he couldn't catch his breath, heaving for air; his worry spiking, but quickly realizing what was wrong.

"Bruv, you've gotta breathe - calm down," he tried to coax. "You're having a panic attack, you've gotta just focus on breathing."

"Fuck off with that!"

"Seriously, man," Lemon insisted, catching Tangerine in a vulnerable state enough that he actually listened without much of a fight. When Tan seemed a little more under control of his own emotions, Lemon asked, "What the hell happened?"

Tangerine shook his head, "Nothing t'worry 'bout - "

"Bullshit," Lemon snapped. "I've never seen yah like that, mate, the fuck happened?"

It was embarrassing, but Tangerine managed to answer, "Just... Just started thinking that if she ever left me, I'd fucking crumble, mate."

This made Lemon frown, "She's not gonna leave you, man. You know that. The girl's madly in love with you, yeah? Like madly in love - like to a degree it makes her stupid in the head, all right? Obviously, you too," he chuckled, shaking his head as he affectionately ran a hand over the back of Tan's head. "You're workin' yourself up, 's all right. You don't have to think about that - ever - 'cause she's it for you, mate. Yeah? Hear me? She ain't goin' nowhere, not without you."

Tangerine needed the assurance. Being alone after having a taste of your love felt impossible to Tan now, something he was never bothered by before. Seriously, why give a fuck about a relationship when he had his brother? Someone who loved him unconditionally and wouldn't leave? And then he met you and understood why people gave fucks about relationships.

It was as if every room you ever entered was brightened up simply by your smile. Your laugh wasn't always the most ladylike, but it was genuine and true and always made Tangerine smile to himself. During any public outing, Tan was always close - we've established this - but he liked to play a small game. One of your love languages was physical touch, so, you liked kissing him if even just for a single second. He was aware of your lipstick, feeling the tacky substance stain his cheek, but he wouldn't wipe it off. His game was to see how long it'd take before someone would point it out; his reputation didn't always warrant others to feel secure enough to speak up. Some nights, Lemon would motion to his cheek, and other nights, you'd return home, remove your make-up, and swipe make-up remover over his cheek to clear the color away.

However, it wasn't often you ventured in public due to Tangerine's innate introverted nature. You went if The Agency made it mandatory or if you were feeling stir crazy, but majority nights, Lemon would find you both lounged on the couch in various positions.

Sometimes, you'd be watching a movie together or binging a show. Other times, you were reading a book while Tangerine poured over paperwork. And once or twice, Lemon's come home to find you belly laughing and playfully scolding Tangerine as he tried to paint your toe nails. It was a homey sight to Lemon: seeing his brother so in love and at ease, hearing your laughter, the entire flat filled with warm smells of burning candles and homemade meals.

It wasn't evident at first, but with you laying in Tangerine's arms, clothes left on the floor, bellies full of whatever meal you had prepared that evening, favorite show playing on the bedroom TV, he realized that he loved what you had done with the place.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[zolass]

ㅤㅤ𝗧𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿𝘀

ㅤ···─TEACHING MANNERS with AJAX ILLAD

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCharacter by @yanderefarm

Summary: A lot of parents complained to you, about the way a certain Illad, dresses to pick up his youngest brother. So there seems to be no way around, but try to.. talk some sense into the other male. wc: 1.8k

tags: smut, top m reader, bttm ajax, semi-public, +

Note: This idea is mostly from this little thing, I had the 'au' already written down and thanks to the dear owner of the character, I now have an idea on how to write this a bit better.

Still there's probably a high chance it sucks, but oh well I hope you guys enjoy <3

Never did Ajax think this would work. The first day he laid his eyes on you, he was smitten away, how can he not? You always made his younger brother ramble about how nice and cool you are, how you were his and others favorite teacher. 

Of course it is something that Ajax also noticed, at the beginning where he picked up his younger brother, you smiled at him and the way you held small talk with him, made his heart beat quicken.

Something about you was just simply so charming to him.

At first he wasn’t really happy, having to go back to school, even though he loved his youngest brother, he definitely would let someone else pick him up. But since he saw you, he couldn’t help but to simply pick his brother up with the driver. Over time he started to dress more– risky. 

From tailored suits, to cropped shirts that showed his abs, and low sitting pants showing his v line dipping into his pants. But there were people coming up to you, to complain about a certain male, about the way he started to dress, seeing it as improper. 

Mostly though it was women with.. Other stuff in mind thinking they could get something from you, maybe a phone number, to ‘complain’. Yet the number of Ajax was never even in the information, only the numbers of the parents.

But you still had to talk to the other, as you put all of your papers together and waved the kids goodbye. It was finally the weekend right in front of you. Suddenly there was a soft knock at the door, and as you looked over you saw Ajax. His shirt was cropped, like the last few times. But this time his slacks were rather nice fitting dress pants.

“My brother told me, you wanted to speak to me?” Ajax said, before he casually walked over to your desk, leaned against it. Your eyes were trained on him, as you gave him a small smile, “Yes.. there have been a few.. Complaints about the way you come to school, to pick your brother up, Mr Illad,” you told him, while you put the papers in a folder. Ajax’s eyes were glued to your figure, as a small smirk played on his lips, “Calling me Mr. Illad seems rather strange no? I mean we are both rather close age wise– call me Ajax,” he said.

Surprised you looked at the other, before closing the folder and putting it into your bag. “I’m sorry  Mr–” there was a slight squint of Ajax eyes,”Ajax, but I only asked you to come here because of the..” you trailed off as you noticed Ajax leaning closer to you, “What can I call you? I don’t mind calling you mine,” Ajax winked at you.

Your mouth dropped open in surprise, “I– ehh M/n– but that’s not the importance–” you were interrupted, “Nice to finally know your name, handsome,” Ajax said. He took another step closer, “You look really, and I mean really good in these clothes,” Ajax eyes were basically like two pools of lust.

Ajax was attractive, you couldn’t deny that. So when he leaned closer, you couldn't help but pull him closer until you captured his lips with your own. The kiss was led by desire but had the passionate edge to it. Your hands were firmly on his rather slutty waist, kneading the soft flesh with your hands.

The kiss went on for a while, before you pulled back. Both of your lips were swollen red, “Let me close the door,” you breathed out before quickly walking over and closing the door. Your hand pushed your hair slightly back, the tent in your slacks was rather obvious what’s coming next.

As you walked back to Ajax, you couldn’t help it but let your eyes wander over his body. Swallowing hard you couldn’t help but to fuck that teasing smirk off his lips, you sat down on your chair with your legs spread enough for a person between them. You teasingly tapped your hand on your thigh, “Why don’t you get to work, Ajax– maybe I can teach you some manners.”

He couldn’t help but stare at your bulge, before he nodded and quickly kneeled between your thighs. Licking his lips, Ajax started to rub his thumb over your cock, while he opened your pants with the other one as best as he could. But as he struggled you helped get your pants off with a chuckle, “You soon learn how to do it,” you said. 

Ajax’s cheeks were tinted pink at your words, but the way his own hard dick strained against his tight dress pants. Pulling your underwear down, Ajax couldn’t help the small gasp escaping his lips, as he watched with slightly widened eyes how your cock sprang free. Your girth was definitely nice, but what was catching his eyes more was your length that basically balanced your girth out. 

Not wasting anymore time he can have with you, Ajax quickly got to work. His lips wrapped around your tip, as he glanced up at you through his lashes after a small groan leaving your throat. You noticed him looking at you, you placed your hand on his head, but not pushing him down. He pushed his head down, getting more of your cock into his mouth, god you were basically the perfect match for him and definitely his mouth. 

Hopefully you were even better for his ass.

Ajax licked over the veins, making you groan a bit louder. He bobbed his head, happy that he finally reached half his goal. Suddenly you pushed his head down, until his nose was pressed against your groin and your entire length was buried deep into his throat. A moan rippled through Ajax’s throat as his eyes rolled back, yet he quickly knew what you wanted so he quickly got back to sucking you off, while you slightly thrusted up into his warm and wet mouth.

He couldn’t help it but just wanting you to fuck him, so he picked up the pace, hoping for you to cum right down his throat. Ajax could feel the way your dick twitched in his throat, and your hands grabbing onto his hair only to push his head down, he couldn’t help but moan as your cum spurted down his throat. 

Slowly he pulled his head back, not without licking over the veins on your cock. A small groan left you, as your tip popped out and Ajax gave it a teasing kiss. You let out a sigh, as you watched Ajax stand up. His own bulge is obvious now to you as well. 

You watched as Ajax turned around and swayed his hips from side to side. Biting your lip, as you stood up you were right behind him, your hands were placed on his waist, as Ajax grinded his clothed ass against your exposed cock. With a swift movement, you pushed the other's chest down onto the desk, showing two perfect round cheeks in front of you.

Making quick process, you quickly opened up the buttons to Ajax’s pants before pulling them down enough for them and his underwear to fall and pool around his ankles themselve. You held your cock in your hand, as you teased his hole with the tip, doing slow circles, smearing your precum around it. Whines left Ajax as he pushed his hips back, hoping for you to finally thrust into him. 

“Please~ just fuck me already,” Ajax begged you, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Someone seems eager,” you teased as your eyes were focused on his expression that was turned to you.

Biting your lip you couldn’t help but smack Ajax round ass, letting a moan break free from his throat. Ajax hated but loved the way you treated him, his dick leaking precum on the floor, “Please just put it in– I’m already prepped, just, fuck me,” he begged you again. You watched him for a little longer until you pushed your tip in, a groan left you while a loud moan left Ajax.

You placed both hands on his hips, before you slammed your entire length into Ajax’s hole making a scream escape his mouth, as his eyes rolled back. The heat of your dick and the twitching made butterflies erupt in his stomach, where a small bulge formed. As you thrusted roughly into Ajax, you leaned down on his back.

Placing a kiss on his shoulder,”Taking me so well, baby,” you groaned into his ear. His hole tightened at your words, making you curse out a whispered fuck, before you picked up the pace. The sound of your skin hitting his turned both of you on even more.

Your hands were gripping Ajax’s waist, as your thrusts grew sloppy. Ajax felt the abuse on his prostate turn rather sloppy, so he knew you were about to cum. He couldn’t help himself but moan at the thought of you pumping your cum into him, “cum in me– ngh fuc– ple-see–” Ajax begged through the moans. The to well known feeling built up in his groin, “cum-ing,” Ajax moaned out, before his eyes rolled back as he came. His big useless cock dirtying the desk with his cum, as he felt your tip push against his prostate one more time before a moan rippled from your throat.

With one last rough thrust you pushed your entire length into Ajax as you came, the belly bulge getting bigger while Ajax caressed the spot with a sigh and imaginary hearts in his eyes. 

You basically stuck to Ajax even as your cock went soft inside of Ajax, but you couldn’t help but hold him in your arms. You kissed his shoulder, as you still held onto his hips. “You did well, pretty boy,” you said, slightly out of breath.

Ajax chuckled as a blush formed on his cheeks, “Thanks– you did fuck me pretty good too–” Ajax said, awkwardly even though he meant it. You did fuck him really well, his fingers trailed around the bulge, biting his lip Ajax couldn’t help but look back at you.

“Can I take you out on a date?” he suddenly asked you, making you raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Sure– I mean yea-” you leaned your head against his neck. “You should wear suits more often– I still remember the times you had it on– you look really good with them,” you suddenly said.

Ajax seemed surprised at that, “Thank you,” there was another silence. “Do you think I’m pregnant with your kids?” Ajax suddenly spewed out, and you couldn’t help but look dumbfounded at him before you chuckled, “Ajax, I don’t think that’s how it works,” you said and a pout formed on his lips, “Sadly, but a man can have dreams–” he retorted. 

You couldn’t help but simply kiss his cheek, “Then when is the date?” you ask him. “How about we start– after we make it out of here– and we do another round in my car, how about that?” Ajax asked, with a teasing look over his shoulder. You couldn’t help but smile at his words, “sure.”

[babygorewhore]

Newlyweds

Mafia AU Rafe Cameron x fem reader

After a dangerous situation, you’re forced to marry mafia boss Rafe Cameron. Someone you went to high school with years ago. And now, you both attempt to make the best of it.

Warnings! OOC Rafe a bit considering it’s a AU. Non graphic Talks of violence, beginning of a universe for my version of mafia Rafe. Male receiving oral! Degrading! He is covered in blood but it’s not readers! Praise! Unprotected sex! Photo in the middle is edited by @rafeyscurtainbangs

Not only was Rafe Cameron your previous enemy from high school, a certified asshole who most people avoided, he was also apparently in the mafia. A fact you didn’t learn until you were forced into a marriage with him weeks ago.

The situation was necessary. A bargain you had to make in order to save your family who owed their rivals a debt.

In order to maintain your and your parent’s safety, you agreed to marry Rafe for status. For protection. You lied to your friends, saying you’d both been secretly dating for a while and decided to get hitched.

It could be worse, you reasoned during moments of anxiety and anger. While Rafe was a dick, he did provide a nice bedroom and bought you a ring that was fitting to your personality. You both were reluctant to this arrangement and so far stuck to minimal interactions.

His only soft spot you observed was in the way he spoke to his youngest sister. Wheezie. He didn’t give her the same cold, sarcastic bite everyone else got. Did you eavesdrop? Yes but you might as well learn as much as possible.

Rafe’s newest peace offering was currently in front of you.

A wardrobe full of new clothes. All your size, tailored to your figure and even specific items used in your hobbies. He didn’t leave hand written notes or explain how he knew what to buy.

You selected a dark dress and a necklace above your heart. Both suited to your body but it radiated a new life. One that promised danger, wealth and power. He insisted you join him for dinner, sending you a nonnegotiable text in the morning. Signed off with a simple, R.C.

The table was already set when you entered the dining room. It was dimly lit and the plates were expensive. The style was clean cut. Newest editions of technology in every corner with a view of the ocean nearby.

Rafe sat at the head. Still in his business clothes but his tie was gone. His shirts and pants were always pristine. His legs were parted, large hands gripping the arms of the chair as he watched you sit across from him.

He looked angry, blue eyes on fire and his jaw twitching with irritation. You weighed your options, crossing your ankles as you toyed with the fringes of the tablecloth. Ultimately, you decided to speak.

“Is everything okay?”

He snorted and his shoulders rolled. Rafe tapped his fingers against the chair, his gold rings shining around his fingers. “Had to handle some business. I’m tired of dealing with incompetent people and family shit.”

You watched as he chewed his lower lip and bounced his knee. You narrowed your eyes and leaned forward.

“Was any of that about me? About our,” You looked for the right word, “situation?”

Rafe gave you a bitter smile. “Oh yeah, yeah, yeah. Couple of people notice how unhappy we look and have big ass mouths. They know we avoid each other.”

“Shit,” You breathe and he nods.

“Yeah. Shit. So, this whole thing is gonna fall apart if we keep this up.” Your hackles started raising but Rafe pressed on, “I mean if we’re gonna do this we might as well…be friends or something.”

That surprised you. His effort to seem calm and logical. You knew it was probably unreasonable to still view him as that high-school jock who bullied Pogues almost ten years ago. Or the fact you were one of the few people who stood up to him.

“You want to be friends?” You parroted and Rafe flicked his hand nonchalantly.

“That’s what I said, right? Look,” Rafe set his elbows on his knees, trying to seem smaller. “I’m not some kid anymore. And as shitty as this whole thing is, I’m trying here. I’m trying to make all this work and take care of everyone.”

Your defenses let down slightly and you acknowledged his point. You raised a glass and held it up in a truce.

“Friends?”

Rafe had a ghost of a smile on his face, a sight that was attractive and he raised his own.

“Friends.”

Two weeks later, Rafe stormed in the house and he was losing his mind. You were out of the shower, still wearing a robe with nothing underneath when you heard the echoing slam of the door. You heard him screaming at the handful of people who worked at the house, ordering security and barking orders that you couldn’t understand.

You removed your headphones, his words muffled by and you stood up to leave your bedroom.

You both made an effort to be friendly, you wouldn’t say a particular bond was there but the terms were improving. Your conversation about friendship looming in the air as you came downstairs.

You searched for him and found him sitting in his office. A lineup of books on shelves, computers and photographs around you. The leather seat was large underneath his body but you were shocked at the sight of him covered in blood.

Rafe trembled and you noticed the gun in his right hand. He stared at you with his nostrils flaring.

“What the hell happened?” Your eyes widened as he tapped the gun against the chair.

“Lot of people died tonight. An investment of ours went wrong and uh,” He laughed but it leaked with rage, “Our common enemy attempted to kill one of my men.”

He had shared the name of one of his partners, someone he spoke about with something close to respect.

“Barry?”

Rafe nodded and blew out a breath. “Part of the deal. People step out of line, people disobey orders or they turn on us,” He glanced at the gun. “And we don’t forgive it.”

He exhaled tightly and met your eyes. “One of em said some shit about you. Said they were gonna kill you. And I shot him without a second thought.” Your mouth parted at his confession.

“You protected me.”

Rafe licked his teeth and laid his head back against the seat. “I protect what’s mine. Anyone who tries to take what belongs to me away, pays the ultimate price.”

His statement gave you chills. You shivered despite the warm robe and a carnal desire ached in your core. The sight of the blood, his spread legs and the gun dangling loosely in his hand made you approach him.

You knelt down, toying with the button of his pants. Rafe looked down at you, his neck straining as his chest heaved at your nimble fingers. You paused and waited for him to give you permission.

“You wanna suck my cock, baby doll? Thank me for what I did?” His voice had a playful tone but he set down the weapon. He set a steady palm on the top of your head as you tugged his pants down.

An urgency overtook you and you hastily peeled down his boxers. You swallowed at the sight of his dick. He was big, thick and the tip pulsed with need as he adjusted his hips. He was giving you an invitation and you gladly took it.

You started off teasing, kissing his happy trail and making your way down to lick the soft skin. Rafe locked his fingers in your hair, encouraging you forward and you sucked his balls. He grunted sharply as you moaned and instinctively bounced on your heels.

You took him into your mouth, the tip shooting precum on your tongue as you bobbed your head and teased him with the rhythm. Rafe began to unravel, his hold firm and he wrapped his hand around your head. He brought your nose to his stomach and you gagged. Deepthroating him as your hands flew to his thighs.

You started running out of air, tears flickering in your lashes and you pulled back. Drool and his pleasure seeping from your mouth. He growled at the sight.

“Filthy little slut. I got half a mind to cum on your pretty face and send a picture to everyone. But I need to feel that pussy,” Rafe hauled you on his lap. Your legs straddling his dick moments before he shoved you down.

Your wet cunt sucked him in, sending a whine through your throat and Rafe groaned the further you sank. He drove his pelvis up, his pace brutal as he smashed his lips to yours.

You tasted the tang of blood on his mouth but it only increased the pressure in your stomach. Rafe’s flesh hit your clit as you bounced, your thigh muscles aiding the movement.

“Mhm, ride my dick. Taking me like such a good girl. You’re so goddamn pretty like this,” He moaned into your mouth and he lewdly licked a stripe up your neck.

Your nipples were painfully hard as you held onto his shoulders and circled your hips. Rafe smacked your ass and wrapped his hand around your throat. Not extremely hard but enough to get your attention.

You cried out a louder sound of pleasure and Rafe wickedly smirked.

“God, you’re so fucking disgusting. Getting off on me choking you?” He scanned your body, watching your tits bounce as you fucked him faster. “That’s it, come on you can do it better than that. Uh huh, you gonna cream on it?”

You wailed as your climax hit you and you shook. Rafe growled, “Open your fucking mouth!” His loud command mixed in with your orgasm made you immediately listen.

He spat in your mouth and gave you one more hard thrust. Rafe’s cum burst into your pussy, your entrance greedily taking in his seed.

He held you as you both came down from aftershock and you caught a glimpse of yourself in a reflection.

His hand left a bloody print on your neck. From his enemies that were now yours.

“Now, you’ve really sealed the deal.” Rafe lifted you up, making your legs encircle his waist and he laid you on the desk. He shoved aside what was in his way and started trailing his lips down your chest.

“You’re such a sweet girl, huh? Rewarding me? Now, you’re gonna let me reward you.”

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @oceandriveab @oceanblvd111 @redhead1180 @gri959 @loserboysandlithium @usergeta @rafeinterlude @rafecameroninterlude @cameronsprincess @sturnioloshacker @stillwjk-channie-lixie @justafangirls-blog

[flwrkid14]

The Tim Drake Heartthrob Conspiracy – Part 2: A Heartthrob with Loser Rizz

So, Tim Drake is Gotham’s newest heartthrob. Cool, right? Except, well… there’s one tiny problem.

For all the brooding good looks, the sharp jawline, and that mysterious allure that has Gotham swooning, Tim Drake has absolutely no game. Like, zero. Nada. It’s a full-blown mystery how this man, who looks like he belongs on magazine covers, can be such a disaster in the romance department.

It all started with his date after that iconic moment when he rolled into the Batcave in that tailored suit. Everyone expected the night to go smoothly. It was Tim, after all—Mr. CEO, Mr. I-Can-Run-A-Multi-Billion-Dollar-Company. Surely, that would translate to his love life, right?

Wrong.

The next morning, Dick was the first to catch Tim yawning over his third cup of coffee. “Rough night?” he asked with a knowing smirk.

Tim just groaned, “I fell asleep on the rollercoaster.”

Dick blinked. “Wait, you fell asleep? On the rollercoaster?”

Tim sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I hadn’t slept in two days, and it was… kinda relaxing? The adrenaline and all.”

And that was just the beginning.

Steph found out later that Tim had somehow managed to spill soda on his date twice—once while trying to explain a complicated merger (because who doesn’t love business talk on a date?) and then again when he tripped over his own chair. By the end of the night, his date probably thought she was being pranked.

Cass, being Cass, summed it up perfectly: “Tim is Gotham’s biggest heartthrob, but he’s also Gotham’s most awkward date.”

Jason, of course, had to weigh in. “This is the same guy who walked into a glass door because he was distracted by a text.”

Let’s not forget the infamous “flower shop incident.” Tim, trying to be romantic, went to pick up flowers before another date, but things quickly went south. How? Well, let’s just say, when you knock over five vases, trip into a display of roses, and end up covered in petals, it’s hard to look suave.

By the time the Batfam heard about that little misadventure, Damian had had enough. “Drake, how is it that you have the charisma of a plank of wood?”

Still, Tim doesn’t mean to be such a disaster. It’s just, well, life seems to have it out for him when he’s trying to impress someone. He once spent an entire dinner talking about the intricacies of encryption algorithms—his date didn’t even make it to dessert. And don’t even mention the time he thought bringing homemade spreadsheets to a movie date would be cute. (Spoiler: It wasn’t.)

Yet, somehow, despite all of this, the mystery of Tim Drake continues to deepen. People are still thirsting after him. The forums are still buzzing with talk of his “quiet charm” and “endearing quirks.” Even his awkward moments somehow manage to add to his appeal, giving him this relatable, down-to-earth vibe that no one in Gotham can seem to resist.

And so, the Batfamily remains baffled. Tim may be Gotham’s biggest heartthrob, but when it comes to actual dating?

He’s a disaster wrapped in a perfectly tailored suit.

[in-loving-memory-of]

Takashi Morinozuka x fem reader -> crush/early dating stage head-canons (sfw)

honestly, i fuckn hate hcs, but i’m gonna put them out there anyway, since mine are simply better cuz i said so

- Takashi isn’t the type of guy to just go up to a girl and ask her out because he thinks she’s cute or anything, so you would 100% have to start off as friends before he made a move (and even then, you’d probably be waiting a while)

- Probably would not initiate a conversation with you on his own (shocking)

- I could see Honey noticing Takashi’s special interest in a girl and deciding to talk to her, and maybe even invite her to the club

- If he did this with Takashi present, he’d be super nervous but secretly grateful that his cousin set him up, cuz lord knows it wouldn’t have happened otherwise

- Once Honey had Takashi’s crush engaged in a conversation, he’d start trying to, not so subtly, gauge whether or not she’s a good fit for Takashi

- If Honey doesn’t like you, then you don’t get to be with Takashi, period.

- If anyone asks at any point during your friendship if Takashi has feelings for you, he’ll either outright deny it or just stay silent, even though it’d be super obvious to anyone who knows him to any capacity

- He would be more engaged in conversations with you than anyone else, MAYBE aside from Honey

- He’d help with anything he thought you may be struggling with (you don’t even have to ask)

- Need help finding something? He’s got you. Pickle jar too hard to open? No problem. Can’t reach something on a high shelf? Well, thank god a certain giant has nothing better to do (he was just admiring you anyway)

- Once the club catches on, any possible privacy the two of you had is gone. Especially if they can tell the feelings are reciprocated

- Tamaki, the twins, and Honey would all try to get the both of you into situations where you’d be alone together, or they’d talk about how cute you would be together, or how cute your kids would be, etc.

- Even before a relationship begins, Takashi will think it’s disloyal or unfaithful to interact flirt with any other girls, so he would be extra quiet during club hours (unless you’re there 🥰)

- Speaking of relationships, when Takashi does finally ask you out, expect it to be a simple question, such as: “Would you like to get coffee with me tomorrow?” or something similar. He’d probably do so when you two are completely alone (mostly so the other club members don’t try to trail you on your date)

- If the date went well, and he felt like you were interested afterwards, that’s when he’d ask you to be his girlfriend.

- The poor guy’s heart would be pounding out of his chest and he’d be blushing like crazy, which would only get worse when if you said yes

- Once you’re official, any reservations he previously had regarding closeness are gone. He wants to hold your hand and just be near you all the time

- He’s not into the PDA shit, though. It’s not like he’d pull you into a make out sesh in public, but he does like to be near you at all times

- Honey absolutely loves that Takashi found someone he truly cares for, especially since he thinks you’re fun to be around, so he and Takashi can still be close as ever

- The other members (mainly Tamaki) are ecstatic about the relationship as well

- Seeing their normally stoic friend all head over heals for you is just too sweet

- Once you start dating, it isn’t long before he wants you over to meet his parents and vice versa

- He doesn’t even see it as a huge step or anything. I mean, of course he wants his family to meet his darling partner

———————————————————————

Alright, I’m gonna call this a part one, and basically just write others to be more tailored to a reader with specific personality traits, cuz writing so vaguely is driving me insane.

(I have no writing experience, but I promise I’ll try harder next time, so hopefully they’ll get better after this 😭)

If there’s anything specific you want to see, feel free to request headcanons or fics for Takashi (or any of the other characters for that matter), as that’ll make it way easier to write something worthwhile lmao

[dokries]

you need some soup!

pairing: lee seokmin (dokyeom) x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 1.5k

warnings: sick fic™, mentions of medicine, food and you know…being sick (having a fever/being tired), a kiss on the cheek, minghao is a saviour pharmacist, seokmin is loud

author note: basically, i want a seokmin. this is so funny because i wrote this before i became kind of sick…did i predict the future again…anyway, i hope you enjoy my rambling turned fic ♡

masterlist

seokmin wishes he got to know you earlier. he tells you this often actually, almost to the point where you’re tired of hearing it—you could never be sick of seokmin though; that would be near impossible. 

however, you can literally be sick, which is exactly what your warm forehead and cold hands are telling you. you would ask your boyfriend to bring you home some medicine but seokmin’s at rehearsals for his upcoming musical, and you don’t want to burden him—he had been stressing about his voice the other day, and you know how hard it is for him in general. you’re not planning to add onto his already heavy load, considering that you’re seokmin’s comfort movie, as he affectionately likes to call you. he always talks about how he could watch you all day, and—yeah, you need to get up for some medicine and stop dwelling on the love of your life, no matter how fun it may be. 

you check the bathroom cabinet despite knowing that what you're looking for isn’t there. you sigh before rubbing the heels of your hands in your eyes, mentally preparing yourself to make the much needed trip to the local pharmacy. 

after a painstaking walk that feels much longer than three minutes, you enter the cool air conditioned building. you wave at minghao, making your way to the front counter. 

“hey, minghao,” you say, taking shallow breaths to calm yourself after your short walk—yikes, something’s definitely wrong—and minghao notices.

he frowns at your demeanour, calling your name softly. “are you alright…? do you need me to call seokmin?” minghao asks hesitantly, already pulling out some medicine from underneath the desk to place in front of you.

“no!” he raises an eyebrow at your immediate refusal before you continue, looking down at the options he lays out for you to take. “i…you know how stressed he’s been with the opening show coming up, right? i don’t want to worry him more.” 

minghao sighs, moving his hand slowly to your forehead to check your temperature, so you don’t get startled. he pulls back after a second, adjusting his glasses and wincing. “you definitely have a fever, though it’s not too bad…yet. i would recommend taking this one.” he pushes one bottle closer to you than the others, concern in his eyes. 

“tell seok—” he corrects himself with an eye roll at your glare, “call our number if you need anything, okay? i can deliver it to you if needed. make sure to rest, okay?” he gives you a pointed look, ringing up the bottle for you after you nod, and lets you pay before handing you a paper bag with your purchase inside. you smile wearily at minghao, giving him a wave as you leave, making your way back home. 

once the medicine goes down your throat, you flop down onto the bed. you check your phone for any messages from your boyfriend, and can’t help but smile slightly at what he sent earlier.

seokmine 🌻 ❙

SWEETIE IM SO SORRY

the staff said i probably have to stay longer so i can get my clothes fitted again :((

i’ll try to get home as soon as i can though 🫡

see you soon my love ♡

you ❙

take your time minnie <3

i hope your rehearsals went well though! i’ll be waiting at home for a full recap >:D

you groan, your phone suddenly too much to look at. yeah, maybe you should do as minghao says—he does have a degree after all. you place your phone on the nightstand beside you before closing your eyes. 

seokmin’s panicking in the dressing room, his eyes more focused on the foreboding text from his pharmacist friend than the tailor trying to get his measurements. 

first of all, the fact that he has to be notified of your health from minghao offends him. do you not trust him to be there when you’re sick? he shakes that thought off, as well as the tailor that had (sadly) been assigned to him, who sighs. seokmin apologizes frantically to them, before letting out a breath. he hasn’t been able to police you about taking care of yourself recently because of how busy his schedule’s become but he didn’t expect you to get sick. what would you do without him? …okay, seokmin knows you would do a lot without him but still. he wants to do everything he can for you, even if you can do it yourself. 

he texts you, his hands working as fast as they can, and frowns when you don’t respond right away like you usually do.  

seokmine 🌻 ❙

honey you alright??

hao texted me saying you’re sick ☹️

i’ll be home in a few i promise

honey?

seokmin’s tailor notices the worried expression on his face, and gestures for him to just leave; they could always take measurements some other day. as soon as they finish talking, seokmin’s face lights up and he bolts. he’s gone before his fellow cast members can wish him a good day, and he calls you as soon as he turns his car on. when you don’t pick up, he bites his lip and his leg shakes up and down quickly.

did you take the medicine minghao promised he gave you? are you not picking up because you’re asleep? are you collapsed on the bathroom floor, weeping about how if your minnie was there with you, you would be fine and actually able to walk to—okay, that was probably a bit much. however, seokmin can’t help but think of the worst possible scenario as he waits impatiently for the car in front of him to move so he can make that final turn into your neighbourhood. 

he unlocks the door as fast as he can, and as soon as he walks in, he finds it too quiet for his liking. he hurriedly takes off his shoes and throws his bag onto the couch in the living room before checking the bathroom to see if he was right in thinking you’re in there. seokmin lets out a breath when he doesn’t see you, thankful his overactive imagination isn’t reality.

he peers into the bedroom at first, and as soon as he sees your sleeping figure, he just about sobs, pulling the door open dramatically—he is a musical actor after all. “MY LOVE! I THOUGHT YOU FAINTED OR WERE CRYING OR—” your boyfriend yells, falling onto the bed and cutting himself off as he presses his face into your outstretched arm.

you rub your eyes sleepily with your other hand, slowly registering that it isn’t a dream, and your boyfriend really is grabbing onto you, about to sob. you cover your mouth and yawn before placing a kiss on his forehead with a smile. “i’m fine, minnie!” 

seokmin looks up at you with a pout as he checks your temperature with a peck on your cheek. you giggle at the gentle motion as he leans back to look at you once more, his voice whiny as he calls your name. “your face is so hot! you’re definitely not fine.” 

you roll your eyes before pushing him away softly, not wanting him to get sick too. seokmin glares at you jokingly before getting up with a sigh, realizing that he can’t risk getting sick, even if he wants to cuddle with you all day. 

his shoulders drop before he sighs again. dear god, someone would think he’s the one who’s got a fever. you push yourself up to a sitting position, and seokmin’s immediately by your side, fixing the pillows so you’re comfortable. you give him a look, and he backs away to the other side of the room. 

“since i can’t cuddle you like i want to, i’m going to make some soup! you look like you need some anyway.” seokmin smiles softy as he backs away toward the door, blowing you a kiss because he can’t actually give you one. 

you grin before blowing one back, and he smiles before frowning in frustration. “oh, i wanna kiss your sweet face so bad, this isn’t fair!” he groans as he walks back to the kitchen. all you do is giggle before grabbing your phone from where you kept it before.

you ❙

minghao i love you

thank you for sending min my way ♡

haohao 🤞 ❙

???

oh right

you’re welcome

tbh seokmin would’ve been really upset if i hadn’t

you ❙

HAHA yeah…

minghao i’ll be a loyal customer until the very end !!

you are my one and only pharmacist for life !!

minghao for president 🫡

haohao 🤞 ❙

…okay? thanks for the support i guess

you two are so in love with each other aren’t you

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

dreaming

Summary: You thought your life ended, when you had to move the only home you ever known to marry a man you had never met before. But what if this was just the beginning?

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x fem. reader

Wordcount: 5.3k

Rating: T

Warnings: arranged marriage AU, mob politics, some angst, some smut, a panic attack, working in the shadowwwwws, some threats, Javi being a total sweetheart, fifteen year age gap, some kissing, one make out session, future talks, time jumps

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One of the few things you would miss when you would leave this island was the view. 

Growing up on the island of Madeira and only leaving it for a handful of times, this view was like an old friend. Well… your only friend really. 

You were the youngest and only daughter of Gilberto Flores, the head of the Flores clan. You were sheltered all your life, had everything you could ever dream of. Yet all you wanted was to have a family or real friends. 

You grew up with different nannies, only seeing your father for an occasional dinner once or twice a week. You did not know your mother. Your brothers were all older than you and did not spend time with their little sister. 

On your thirteenth birthday you learned that your father had arranged a marriage to the head of the Gutierrez clan once you were of age. 

You felt trapped. Unhappy and lonely. 

More than once you thought about fleeing, but where would you go?

There was no way to get off the island by yourself and you did not trust anyone enough to ask for help. 

So you stayed. 

You learned four languages, learned to dance. 

Your father made you learn everything about the Gutierrez clan including your future husband Javier. 

His reputation precedes him. 

To the outside he was the owner of an olive farm on Mallorca. He was friends with politicians and even royalty, giving money to charities all across Europe. 

But you knew that was only what he wanted people to know. 

You learned that he was ruthless and cruel, that he did not shy away from killing to get what he wanted. The crimes went from blackmailing local politicians so he could continue with his drug business, to taking children hostage to get their parents to do what he wanted. 

And if they didn’t….

You shouldn’t be surprised, your father was the same. 

Sighing you stood outside of your balcony, watching the sun set for the last time. Your bags were packed, the wedding dress already waiting for you in your new home. 

Tomorrow you would leave this place and probably never be back. 

And even though part of you was relieved to finally see something of the world, the bigger part was scared of what was to come. 

Your dream of falling in love and getting a happily ever after would stay just that. A dream. 

In two days you would be married to a man twenty years older than you, that you had never met before. 

You hadn’t even been kissed. 

A tear slipped down your cheek and you closed your eyes, breathing in deeply. 

Javi was staring at himself in the mirror as the tailor put the finishing touches to his suit. 

His wedding suit. 

Had it really been a month since his cousin informed him that he would get married to the youngest daughter of Gilberto Flores?

A girl who had just turned twenty one?

Getting married to a man fifteen years older than herself?

Closing his eyes he sighed quietly. 

Yet another time he wished that he could just walk away from all of this. But he knew that Lucas had made it seem to everyone on the outside like he was the mastermind of the Gutierrez clan. He knew that if he would even attempt to get out of the family, the buisness, every law enforcement on the planet would put him behind bars. 

He would be safe from his abusive cousin there though. 

“We’re almost finished, Mr. Gutierrez,” the tailor said and Javi opened his eyes, giving the man a short nod. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. 

He wondered about you. 

Of course he had tried to find out something about you ever since he learned that the two of you would be married, but he had found close to nothing. 

He knew that you had just turned twenty one, and that you were the youngest of the Flores children. You were most likely forced into this marriage much like he was. 

Fucking mob politics. 

If anyone thought Javi would as much as touch a hair on your head they were wrong. 

He felt the tailor pull of his cream coloured jacket. 

“You can take the pants off. I will have them ready for you by your wedding day,” the man said with a small smile. 

“Thank you,” Javi said and took the pants off.

When he was alone he filled a glass with scotch and walked outside, watching the sun set. 

You would arrive tomorrow and the day after tomorrow was the wedding. 

This was not how he imagined getting married. He believed in true love. Once he thought it might be Gabriela who was his one. But she met another man and left him behind, much like everyone he ever cared about in his life. 

Even though his house was never empty, Javi was lonely, he always had been. It was why he became so interested in movies and their own magic. When he watched a movie he forgot about his life. He could get lost in the story of a good (or sometimes bad) movie and pretend he was just a normal guy. 

And that was just what he did that night. He made himself some popcorn and sat down in his private cinema. 

And he cried his eyes out watching Toy Story 3.

Somehow you always thought he would look meaner. The man you were supposed to marry. 

You had arrived earlier that day, being sent off to your new rooms immediately without a big hello. It was an hour before dinner when a maid arrived, informing you to ready yourself for dinner. 

Which is where you were now, sitting next to the man who had introduced himself as Javier Gutierrez, Javi, as he told you you could call him. 

He had a nice face. Handsome. His smile was hesitant, his eyes soft his hands warm as he introduced himself to you. 

His open, soft expression completely changed when the rest of the dinner party arrived, the dinner party you had no idea was happening in the first place. 

You carefully looked around after the main course had been served, the only people you knew being your father and his current mistress at the table. You didn’t even know what her name was. She gave you a sad smile when she found you looking at her. 

She didn’t look much older than you were and you felt yourself disgusted for the family you had been born in. 

„Gentlemen,“ Javier, Javi said next to you and you stiffened. 

„If you’ll excuse me. I would like to get to know my… future bride a little better. The kitchen prepared desert for us to be served in my room,“ he said. 

You bit into your tongue, your body stiffening when you heard the hollers from the table. You took a deep breath before you looked up at Javier who was holding his hand out for you to take. 

You knew you didn’t have a choice. Not anymore. 

So you put a fake smile on your face and took his hand, letting him help you up from your chair. 

Whistles, catcalls and laughter were accompanying you until the door of the dining room closed behind you. Javi dropped your hand from his, releasing a deep breath. 

He looked at you first, before he looked around as if he was searching for something. 

Slowly he stepped closer and your eyes got big as his head leaned down, his lips close to your ear. 

„There are eyes and ears everywhere. It’s why I asked for dessert to be served outside for us to speak without eyes or ears on us. However you can leave and go back to your room without any consequences if you don’t want to,“ he whispered. He parted from you looking at you with an honest expression. 

You would marry the man in two days. 

And nothing of this day had been like you imagined it. 

So you gave him a small nod, seeing his eyes light up before he held his hand out for you again.

The view from Javi’s room was breathtaking. 

You could see the whole garden of the estate with the ocean behind it, crashing against the shore. 

The sun was setting, diving everything into a soft orange light as he showed you around, before he pulled the chair out for you on the left corner for his balcony where some chocolate cake had been served. 

„I tried finding out your favourite desert so I could surprise you, but nobody could help me. So I went with chocolate in the hope you’d like it as much as I do,“ he explained, his expression sheepish, as he sat down across from you. 

He had pulled his tie off immediately as the doors to his rooms closed behind you, opening up the first three buttons of his dress shirt. He threw his dress jacket on the floor, releasing a deep breath, before he found you watching him. 

There was a shy smile on his lips as he told you how much he hated getting dressed up for events like this.

You were quiet, watching him and still feeling out of place. But there was something about Javi that put you at ease. 

„I know you probably want to be even less than I am,“ Javi said after a moment when you had sat down. 

The surprise must have shown on your face as he smiled softly. 

„I found out a month ago that I am supposed to be marrying you,“ he said.

„I’ve known since I was thirteen,“ you finally spoke and his eyes closed as he sighed and shook his head. 

„I am so sorry,“ he whispered, staring out at the ocean before he picked up the little fork and picked at his chocolate cake. When he had eaten some of the cake you picked up the fork too, digging in. 

You hummed when you tasted the rich flavour of the chocolate and Javi looked at you with a small smile. 

„You’re different than I thought,“ you said after you had both finished eating in silence.

„How so?“ He asked. 

„I was taught that you were the ruthless leader of your house. I grew up listening to all the horror stories about you and your family. But you seem….“

You were looking for the right word. 

„Softer,“ you finished your sentence and Javi laughed, sadly. 

„Unfortunately I think all the stories you heard about my family are true,“ he began and your face fell, fear creeping back in. 

„Once my father died I was meant to take over, and I did, at least to the outside world. All the things you learned about me are true. But it was not me who did them, it was my cousin,“ he said, his voice quieter now. There was a knock on the door, making you jump but Javi only reached over the table, squeezing your hand. 

„It’s only Carla, the housekeeper. She’s going to get the dishes and brings some wine,“ he said before he got up and walked back inside. 

You were startled again when the housekeeper, an older lady with a kind face picked up your dishes, speaking to Javi in Spanish on her way out. You tuned their voices out, tilting your head back and closing your eyes, listening to only the waves from the ocean. 

You were beyond confused about the things that had happened since you got here. 

But to your surprise you weren’t as terrified as you were only a day ago. 

Because Javi was so far from the man you had grown up to fear would become your husband. You only met him today, but you there was something about him that made you feel like you could trust him. 

He made you feel safe.

You startled when Javi sat back across from you, pushing a glass of red wine towards you. You raised your eyebrows in question. 

„It is the best red from my own vineyard,“ he said and you nodded, picking up the glass. 

You hated wine. 

But you saw his hopeful expression as he watched you bring the glass to your lips, taking a sip. 

You tried very hard not to let your face show just how exactly you like the wine but you saw Javi’s face fall anyway. 

„You don’t like it?“ He asked. 

Slowly you shook your head. 

„Not a big fan of wine,“ you admitted and his shoulders fell, before he looked with a warm expression at you. 

„What do you like? If we have to get married, I want to know you as best as I can. We might not be lovers, but I'd like to become friends,“ he said. 

„Do you think there is a way out?“ You asked. He sighed, drinking some wine. 

„If there would be one right now, without either of us ending up dead, I would have found one,“ he said with a sad smile. 

You nodded, looking down at your hands. 

„I did like the chocolate cake,“ you said after a while with a small smile. 

„Yes?“ He said as you looked up. You nodded. 

„But my favourite is Lemon meringue,“ you smiled at him and he chuckled. 

„Tell me more,“ he leaned closer. 

And you did.

You were pretty sure you were having a panic attack. 

You stared at yourself in the big mirror in front of you. Dressed in white, not a hair out of place. You did not like the dress, but it did not matter. 

All that mattered was that it looked good on you, and that it would look good on pictures. 

You would be married in the next hour. 

To a man you just so had gotten to know. 

„Oh god,“ your hand flew to your chest, the fabric to tight.

You couldn’t breathe. 

There was a knock on the door and you turned around with wide eyes, still feeling like you were choking. The door opened and Javi walked in, his face falling as he saw you, closing the door behind him as he closed the distance between you.

His eyes flew over you as you tried, but could’t bring your lungs to fill with air and you jumped when you felt him grab one of your hands. 

„Breathe with me,“ he said, but you just shook your head, black spots appearing in the corners of your vision. 

„I can’t,“ you gasped out but he shook his head. He brought your hand towards his chest.

„Feel it. Breathe with me,“ he said again and you looked up at him with wide eyes. You noticed yesterday that one of his eyes was lighter than the other. Still a rich brown, but… warmer. 

With your eyes on him you focused on the way he was breathing. 

In and out. 

And in and out. 

Your heart slowly slowing down, air finally filling your lungs. 

He just stayed there with you until you calmed down. You heard the wedding planner outside reminding you that it was only fifteen minutes until the ceremony and tears filled your eyes. 

You would get married.

You would become a wife. 

You would get your first kiss in front of people you had never met before….

„You need to kiss me,“ you said, before you could stop yourself. He frowned at you, his hands still holding yours against his chest as he looked at you. 

„I have no control about anything at the moment. I do not want my first kiss to be in front of all these people. I… Javi please,“ you were about to beg. 

You had stayed up all night talking to Javi. 

While you still had doubts about if he was telling you the truth at the beginning, they were gone once he began to talk about his love for movies. His eyes sparkled as he told you about his favourite movies, and how his biggest dream was to be a writer. 

He also told you more about his family.

About how his father died and even on his deathbed told him what a disappointment Javier had been for him and the family business. 

He wanted to leave once his father died, but Lucas would not let him, threatening to kill his then PA and secret love Gabriella. So he stayed. Even when Gabriella left, because he did not know where to go. 

You told him about yourself too, but what was there to tell?

You hadn’t seen anything of the world, you had nothing to tell, yet he gave you his full attention with everything you said. 

If you were pressured to marry someone, you were glad it was him. 

„I need you to kiss me now, here, Javi,“ you said again and he took a deep breath.

He let go of your hand just to bring one of his hands up, resting it on your cheek as he took a step closer. 

His eyes closed for a moment as his head tilted down. He took a deep breath as he opened them and it was like everything around you disappeared. 

„I’m sorry it has to be like this,“ he whispered as he leaned in. 

You licked your lips. 

„I’m not,“ you whispered before his lips brushed against yours. 

Your eyes slipped close as you allowed yourself to get lost in this kiss. Your very first kiss.

It started soft, Javi clearly not wanting to spook you even more than you were. It was when he felt one of your hands on his shoulders that he allowed himself to deepen the kiss, slowly moving his lips against yours, your hand wandering up to his neck, your fingers playing with the hair in his neck, making him shiver. 

Before it could get any further he parted from your lips watching you linger for a moment before you eyes opened to look at him. He smiled softly at you, his fingers brushing over your cheek. 

„I know this is not what we wanted, but we only have to get through the rest of this day before we can leave,“ he said.

„Leave where?“ You asked. 

He kissed your nose. 

„Do you trust me?“ He asked. 

And you know you shouldn’t, but you had no one else in your corner. 

„I do,“ you nodded. 

„Then meet me at the fountain after the reception,“ he said, before he took a step back, giving you one last look, before he walked out of the room. 

You were surprisingly relaxed once the big I do’s had been said. You didn’t feel different as a married woman. The whole situation was so surreal to you, you’d probably need weeks if not months to get used to it. 

Your state of relaxation could also have to do with the amount of champagne you had already drank, your father already having scolded you twice.

You had to admit that when Javi told him off, you did find the way your father seemed to shrink away from him pretty sexy. 

You had just gotten back to your seat when you felt Javi sit down next to you. You were pretty lost without him here, but every time he wanted to come to you, someone had pulled him away. 

Smiling you looked at him, your eyes widening when you saw what he had put down in front of you. 

„Is that…“

„Lemon Meringue pie, yes. I had the menu changed his morning. You should have something you liked at this wedding, even if it is not what you dreamed of,“ he said, and you felt yourself tear up. 

„I never really dreamed of my wedding, or anything really, because I knew I would not get to decide anything,“ you whispered. Javi leaned closer towards you, his hand finding yours. 

„Then I want you to start dreaming now,“ he said and before you could stop yourself you had leaned in and kissed him softly, catching him by surprise. 

„Thank you Javi,“ you whispered just for him to hear before you turned towards the pie and began to eat it. 

You would have forgotten to meet Javi at the fountain if it wasn’t for Javi pulling you away with him. 

By now you were beyond tipsy and probably ready for bed. 

„I have a surprise,“ he whispered as you walked with him towards the fountain. You had one of your arms wrapped behind his back and he had one wrapped behind you. You were stumbling, so it was him holding you up really. 

„You do?“ You asked, he nodded. 

Walking around the fountain you could see something behind it the further you walked. 

„A helicopter?“ You asked, confused. 

„I have a private island in the Maldives. The helicopter would take us to the airport. Your bags have already been packed,“ he said. 

You blinked up at him. 

„We can just go?“ You asked. He nodded. 

„If you do not feel comfortable being alone with me, that is okay. We do not have to leave. Though I think four weeks of what people will see as our honey moon while we get to know each other alone without the prying eyes of the cartel would be better,“ he said, waiting for your answer. Hoping you would say yes to his plan. 

You gulped, suddenly wishing you wouldn’t have drank so much. 

You surprised Javi yet again, when you jumped into his arms, hugging him closely. 

„This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,“ you mumbled against his neck. 

„Then let’s go princesa,“ he whispered.

Waking up with your first hangover ever after you got married, you were confused where you were for a second, your eyes blinking open. 

How did you get here?

And where exactly was here?

Sitting yourself up you groaned, your hand flying over your eyes.

Of course you would choose the night of your arranged wedding for your first drunk escapade. You jumped when the door opposite the bed you were laying in opened and Javi’s head took a peek inside the room. 

„Oh, you’re awake,“ he said with a warm smile. 

You nodded with a groan. 

„There is a bottle of water and some painkillers next to you on the table,“ he said and you opened one eye, seeing him grin at you. 

„I hope I did not embarrass you,“ you mumbled and he opened the door to walk in. He was dressed in some sweatpants and a shirt, sitting down on the other end of the bed. 

„You didn’t,“ he assured you with a glint in his eye, that did not make you believe him. Instead of questioning him, you reached over to grab the bottle of water and the painkiller, chewing them down. 

„Where are we?“ You asked once you had drank half of the bottle. 

„On a plane. To the Maldives. Though I should have waited to ask you again when you were sober. If you want us to turn around…“

„Oh no. No. I’m quite happy to get away from everything,“ you said and he released a breath.

„Good. Uhm…. There are some clothes in the dresser for you. You…. Did not want to put them on last night,“ he looked away from you. Was he blushing?

„What do you mean I did not want to….“ You carefully lined your blanket, eyes widening when you found that you were only wearing some panties. Alarmed you pulled the blanked under your chin. 

„Thank you,“ you squealed out, now pulling the blanked over your head, mortified. 

You felt his hand on your ankle, squeezing it through the blanket. 

„Breakfast is served if you like to come out,“ he said before you felt the bed dip, a door closing moments later. 

You pushed the blanket away from your face, grabbing a pillow to put if over your face and screamed into it.

You swear you could hear a laugh from the next room. 

Sighing you pushed the pillow away, sitting yourself up. You would love nothing more than to hide forever in this bed. 

But Javi had done something sweet for you. Deep down you were a little scared of having to spend time alone in a place that was not your home right after the wedding. 

Getting to spend time alone with Javi somewhere you were alone though?

That sounded like a dream. 

And you did remember that he told you to start dreaming. 

So that’s what you would do. 

Once a day, for more or less thirty minutes Javi had to take a call and excused himself to the office of the villa, leaving you to read your book in peace. 

You wanted to ask what these calls were about, but by now you knew Javi well enough that he would tell you if he could.  

You wouldn’t even be mad if Javi’s intention for bringing you here, to this little paradise, was to make you fall in love with him. 

Not that you knew anything about love.

But your heart beat a little faster when Javi looked at you, or when he took your hand, or kissed you goodnight, before you both went to your own beds in your own rooms. 

He cooked for you, he put sunscreen on your back when you relaxed on the beach. 

He asked you a billion questions about yourself to get to know you. 

And he made you watch every single one of his favourite movies with him. 

If you could stay here with him like that forever, you wouldn’t complain. 

It was by week two that you searched him out more, touches lingering. You kissed him some times, the kiss never lasting longer than a moment. 

You wanted more, but at the same time you weren’t sure you were allowed to want it.

To want him. 

But then he smiled at you, or remembered how you took your tea. Every time you felt the scared voice in the back of your head tell you to be cautious you reminded yourself of Javi telling you that you were allowed to dream now. 

So around three weeks after you got here, as you finished watching the third lord of the rings movie you kissed him. And as he tried to pull away you chased his lips, your hand coming to brush through his hair, keeping you close. 

He still pulled away, his eyes on yours, guarded, looking at you. 

„I want you, Javi,“ you whispered and he gulped. 

„Are you sure?“ He asked. You had talked about it. He knew you had never been with anyone before. 

You nodded. 

„I’m not sure if I want to go all the way now but… I want more, Javi,“ you said and he smiled softly at you, his nose brushing against yours. 

„I did not think it would be like this,“ he said, letting his forehead fall against yours. 

„How?“

„Easy. I did not think it would be so easy to fall in love with you,“ he whispered before he kissed you. You smiled against his lip, slowly sitting yourself up. Nervously you broke the kiss, looking down at Javi as you carefully settled in his lap. He looked at you in awe and you grabbed his hand, putting them on your hips, before you leaned down to kiss him. 

You crossed your arms behind his neck and he groaned as you deepened the kiss. You felt him part his lips and you did the same, letting him take lead, because you had no idea what to do. You shivered when he squeezed your hips, pulling you even closer. His tongue dipped into your mouth and you moaned softly. You moved your hips on top of him, gasping when you felt him roll his hips too.

Out of breath you parted from his lips while his wandered down your throat. 

„Javi,“ you gasped, your fingers scratching over his scalp.

He stopped kissing you, his lips lingering against your skin. 

„Before we get any further I have to tell you something,“ he whispered. He pushed you a little away so he could look at you. Smiling at you, one of his hands came up to rest against your cheek. 

„When I found out that I had to marry you I never thought I would actually fall in love with you,“ he said and you leaned into his touch. 

„And because of my feelings for you I have to tell you that you have a choice here,“ he said and you frowned. 

„What do you mean?“ You asked, confused. 

He took a deep breath before he spoke again. 

„I started working with the CIA a year ago to help them get the Guttierez cartel. And as of this morning, there is no cartel anymore,“ he said and you blinked at him, processing what he just told you. 

„Your family was caught in the crossfire. Your father and all your brother have been taken in custody together with my family,“ he said and you nodded slowly, still processing. 

„So that means, you are free,“ he smiled at you. 

„What does that mean?“ You asked. 

„It means, you get to make your own choices,“ he took a deep breath, „It means that you don’t have to stayed married to me if you don’t want,“ he said quietly.

„You’re very young, my love. If you want to get out and make your own experiences, no one is stopping you. You could study, you could travel, you could buy your own island and live there forever…“ he grinned.

„Can’t I do all of that with you by my side?“ You asked. 

„If you want to. All I want to say is, you are not obligated to stay married to me. Because there will be no consequences if you chose to not want to anymore. Only what you want matters,“ he said. 

You were still processing. 

„I am saying that if you want to get married, you should do it, because you are in love with the person, and not because you were pressured to do so,“ he said. 

„But what if I am in love with you?“ You asked. The smile he gave you was almost blinding. 

„Then I will be with you every single step of the way as long as you let me, my love,“ he said.

„Okay,“ you smiled softly at him. 

„Okay?“ He asked, you nodded. 

„I want to stay longer here, if we can,“ you said and he nodded.

„Done,“ he grinned. 

„And I want you to take me to your bed,“ you sucked your bottom lip in. 

„Now?“ He raised one of his eyebrows.

You nodded.

„Now,“ you whispered. 

Two years later

„We are gonna be late, Javi,“ you giggled, your hands on the sides of his face as he kissed all over your face.

„Can’t be late to our own wedding,“ he shrugged and you giggled again.

„Javviiiiiii!“ You laughed, when he began to tickle your sides. 

„Okay Okay Okay,“ he sighed in mock surrender, pushing himself up from the bed, before he held his hand out to help you up. 

„Ready to marry me again?“ He asked as you walked out of the room and directly on the beach that would lead down to the ocean where a minister would be waiting for you. 

„Ready to actually mean it this time,“ you winked, squealing when he pulled you against his chest, kissing you hard. 

„Love you,“ he mumbled against your lips. 

„Love you too,“ you mumbled back, letting him lead you down to the ocean. 

Ready for a fresh start in a new country with a new job, but with the men you against all odds fell in love with.

[goldsbitch]

Right?

summary: Y/N is a photographer for McLaren F1 team. Hard working, goal oriented professional who would never put her career in jeopardy for some stupid crush, right?

That is until a photoshoot gets out of hand and there is no way to go but forward.

warning: swear words, male x female, angst

part 2

______________________________________________________________

You're a professional. Right? Always been, proud of your hard work and strong will. If you want something, you go and get it.

It's by no chance that you're standing exactly here - in the McLaren F1 paddock, in the middle of buzzing neatly organized and timed chaos prior to the start of the race. "Read the grid, feel the paddock" was a line burned to your memory by your first boss, now the Media head of Redbull. You've learned what each and every one of the people do, what their job entails, because one day, one day you want to be more than a photographer for the team's social media.

You're a professional. Had a dream and went for it, no matter the sacrifice or long hours. Always on the road, detached from your peers. Because your heart beats for this.

You'd never do anything to compromise your job. Right?

The hardest part to ignore is his scent. You can evert your eyes when he walks to the room like he owns it - and one would say he actually does, he is the team's no. 1 driver for god sake. His voice can almost be blocked out by focusing on a conversation with a different person or headphones if the situation allows. But his scent seems specifically tailored to messing with your ability to focus, so much sothat you've considered wearing a mask and pretending to be a super freak about germs.

Ironically, scents are hard to recall. And you would know, you've tried several times on lonely nights in hotel rooms, with the goal to make you finish just a little bit faster. A moment you'd really love to forget is standing in a perfume shop trying to figure out what is that magical formula. Because it can't be due to the fact that he is wearing it. Right?

However hard it is for you on the inside, one would never know of your tiny little crush from the outside. Always keeping it casual, with every photoshoot staying professional and holding it together.

It was Lando who had the idea to do more of an intimate (his words, not yours) photoshoot than usually, to spice up the feed, as he bluntly said during a casual PR catch up. This was the reason why you were standing here. In the middle of the forest, alone with a big camera and one light for the subject in question, your biggest crush in history. You were sure he was having a great time putting you outside your comfort zone, the cheeky fuck he was. But then again, he probably really did not give a shit.

"I can't focus if you'll keep looking at me like that," Lando stated like a spoiled child.

"Come again?" you asked, geniuenly confused.

He jumped around few times, as if he was about to run a marathon. "Show a little enthusiam, why so bleh today?"

"You're right, my mind went somewhere else."

"Oh, am I boring you? Well, that's bad. We should be promoting my merch here, but even the person paid to be here can't seem to be bothered!" His tone changed. He raised his eyebrows, challenging you to up your game.

You're a professional. No doubt about that.

Focus, get your head back. Your energy boosted up again, here we go! "Ok, Norris, back to work!" You're well aware that a great photo comes from the subjects ability to connect with the photographer. "You're right, this isn't working. Let's get into the car."

You both left the random wood spot and returned to his sports car that brought you here. "Sit on the driver's seat" you instructed.

"Oh, as if there is a different way this would go down."

"Come on, let's drive around. And be fast," not sure if you were incouraging him or yourself.

"Like the sound of that. Buckle up, otherwise you'll have blurry photos."

And with that he reversed back on the main road.

After about 15 minutes of driving back and forth with a casual drift on the turns, getting pictures of him driving in his new jacket and shades, the adrenaline levels were pretty up in both of you.

"Parked it up here" you instructed again, having him stop on a hill with a view on a city lights in the background. "These are amazing!" you said after a brief look on the photos.

Lando was curious as ever. "Show me!"

"No, you'll see them on the right time. Do you trust me?"

He licked his lips. "Surprise me?"

"Lean back."

You really got into the zone, already super excited for the pictures. They had everything, interesting lighting, composition and Lando was doing an exceptional job with his smiles. However, you knew it could give more.

"This is great Lando, truly great job! But let's do more and push it further, you ok?"

"Just tell me what to do." He looked like he was really enjoying the attention, but you tried to block any of these thoughts out.

"One thing photographers recommend is for the model to try and look into the lens as if you want to seduce it, capture those looking at the picture...It's for making models less focused on the camera and being more attractive..."

Lando pulled out his best smirk yet. "Oh, I'm not attractive enough to be your model now?"

"Come on. You know what I mean."

"Nah, I don't," he lied. "Elaborate, I'm just a simple driver."

Now you were getting annoyed. "Just imagine the lens is someone you want to, em, who you would like to"

"-Fuck?"

"Yes."

"As you wish." And as you asked he did.

He probably did it without much of a thought, but you were perfectly aware of how he fixed his posture, opened his lips a bit, moved his and got this look on as if he wanted to eat you - in the best way possible. This got you in the zone, striking one photo after another, moving your camera and getting closer to get the details, completely forgetting you were both there to shoot his new merch.

Battery low. You would have cursed yourself in that moment. Only you hardly had a second to think about this. When you put your camera down, you realized the nonexistent proximity between you and Lando. You were sitting above him on the back seat with him staring up to you.

You froze for a moment, knowing there is no battery left in the bag.

"Well that is us done for today," you focused on the camera. How on Earth can you be so stupid.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." You suddenly realized you were way, way to close to Lando. The damn scent, again.

"Damn, I like these kinds of photoshoots."

"Uhm, yeah." You did not want to move, but it was becoming socially unacceptable for you to be sitting on him for this long.

"Have you done this with Oscar?"

It's hard for you not to laugh at that thought. Every photoshoot with Oscar was a nightmare with the atmoshephere being so dry that everyone with an inch of taste had to tell from the photos immediately.

"Not yet," you said trying to preserve the facade. " But if these work out and the team likes them, we might recreate this with him?"

As if that was even remotely possible. You should move now. Why isn't he moving?

"Shame, thought it was our thing," his voice was becoming more raspy with every sentence.

And with that - you lost it.

"You still have the look." How is this sentence coming out of your mouth?

"What look?" he said, moving even closer to you.

"The models look."

"Remind me which one."

"The "Fuck Me Look"...But I'm not taking photos anymore."

"Interesting."

"Why?" You stopped breathing a while ago.

"Because I think you have it too."

part 2

[llamagoddessofficial]

Had my brain taken over by this scenario. Enjoy a snippet.

---

“Agent, are you in?”

“I’m in position.”

“Agent is in position. Everyone else, stand by.”

That was you. The ‘everyone else’ part- not the 'agent' part. About six other people were placed around the massive room in various spots. You didn't even know who the other people are, to preserve their safety. You glanced up from the bar, making sure not to look at the agent at the top casino table, instead admiring the very, very expensive casino you were in, the chandeliers and diamonds and saturated golden colour to everything. Your only job was to listen out for one of two codes. If you heard the first code, you were to make your way to the exit in your own time. If you heard the second code, you and the others were to get the agent out, and protect him with your life.

You were collateral.

... You had never seen such an expensive place. Chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the usual blaring lights and sounds were missing, this was far too refined an establishment. This was the kind of casino where the small blind would be the cost of a really nice house. You were sitting at the bar, wearing a dress and jewellery provided for you, ‘drinking’ (not really) an incredibly expensive martini paid for by the company card-  in any other circumstance, you probably wouldn’t even be allowed into this place. Perhaps as a dishwasher hidden away in the kitchens, if you were lucky.

You sipped the drink. You didn’t even know what the mission was, only the people vital to the mission knew what the mission was, to protect those involved. Honestly, you were just absorbing the glitz and glamour. A glimpse of a world you’d never be a part of. You had nothing to do except intervene if things went south. 

“Target has entered the room. Wait for him to sit at the table and place his bet. Eyes on the prize.”

...

“Hold on. Target passed the table. He...”

...

Your earpiece cut out. Weird. But that probably meant things were getting serious at the betting table, and the important stuff was happening. You weren’t privy to that.

A skeletal hand placed itself onto the bar, just next to you. The deepest voice you’d ever heard spoke.

“... this seat... taken, doll?”

You glanced up from your drink, and found yourself staring into the eyes of...

... the eyelight of Sans Serif.

Woah. Holy shit. You froze, for a second, pinned under that burning red eye... Sans Serif himself. That signature golden tooth. All but leaning over you, his physique was absolutely was towering, especially considering you were sitting. Didn’t his dad own the guy who ran this place? He was more physically intimidating up close than he was in pictures, with those massive shoulders and hands, that vicious skull crack only just hidden under his hat.

... But equally, he was a lot more handsome than photos gave him credit for. You hadn't expected that. Sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, he suited the perfectly tailored red and black suit made exactly to his massive measurements.

“Oh. Uhm... no, it’s fine, you can sit here.” You were nervous. This guy was a big fish, easily the biggest in the casino, one of the biggest in the world. Private jets and yachts, he played at the betting table with amounts of money you couldn't even imagine. He was born into more money than you could ever even comprehend.

He and his family could make you vanish. Not that he needed his family, though. One hand could snap your neck.

... He sat beside you. Your eyes darted up, making note of the two security guards who shuffled to either end of the bar. Suited just as well as him, in matching colours, sunglasses over their eyes and earbuds in their ears.

“... sorry, darlin’. don’t... mind them.” His voice was warm, rich, very soft. He spoke slowly, as if you were the only person in the room with him, but with a precision and deliberateness to his words that sounded like he had spent many hours practising speech. “can’t... go nowhere... without ‘em.”

Wow. He was talking to you. What was he doing? Was he just bored? There were other available seats at the bar, next to much more beautiful women. There were a lot of very beautiful women in this casino who would be delighted to keep the company of the Red Devil himself.

“... If I’m honest, I don’t think they’ll be doing much guarding.” You figured you’d just engage him like he was a normal person. Politely, of course- but no reason why not. 

“hm?” His huge eyelight was fuzzy at the edges.

You gave him a look. “I mean... they’re half your size. They look like your minibosses.”

He chuckled at that. It was a gentle and handsome sound, it eased you. You were still trying to grapple with the fact that Sans Serif was sitting beside you, talking to you. The two of you were from completely different universes.

He seemed so much less intimidating than people described, though. Weird.

The bartender slid Sans a drink without him even asking. It looked like an expensive whiskey, in an equally expensive crystal glass, with a single piece of ice.

“not... bettin’, tonight?” He spoke slowly, lifting the drink to his mouth. He had a golden ring on his index finger that probably cost more than your rent. What was he doing? Were... were you being flirted with by Sans Serif?

You giggled. “No, no, absolutely not. I’m terrible at cards, and dice, everything. Not a chance.”

He grinned. “s’... smart. seen... lotta suckers... lose everything, at those tables.”

He sounded so friendly. So nice. You were unwinding- it strangely so easy to forget who he was.

“Not like I have much money to lose anyway.”

“what brings you... to a casino, then?”

“I’m gonna be honest, I don’t really belong in this sort of place. My friends like the casino a lot more than I do.” You glanced away, again having to make a conscious effort to avoid looking at the agent. “But it seems like they’ve abandoned me.”

... He looked down at your untouched martini. “well. may i... keep you... company? doll?”

You nearly flushed. “Of course.”

His eyelight raked over you. His voice was so deep, so pleasant. “d'ya think... i could start... by gettin’ you a drink you like?”

Sans wanted to buy you a drink? You were... well. Honestly, you were flattered. But also a little embarrassed at being caught out with disliking your drink. You pushed the martini glass away from you.

“It’s that easy to tell I don’t like it?”

The corner of his working socket crinkled. “made... a funny face, when y’sipped it.”

You couldn’t help but giggle again. “I’m sorry. I try so hard to like martinis.”

His smile grew. “why?” 

“... They look so elegant. But...” you nearly cringed at yourself. “... I think they’re kinda nasty.”

He laughed. You felt proud of yourself for getting the sound out of him. You didn't notice the surprised look on his guards' faces.

He brought up his hand, resting his chin on it- why was he looking at you like that? Like you were the only person in the room? “what drinks do you like?”

“The ones that are more fruit juice than alcohol.”

“that... can be arranged.” He purred. “no one will judge. since you’re with me.”

... He was right. Nobody was going to pick you up on drinking something less fancy, when you were with the man himself.

“... I like a tequila sunrise.” You said, sheepishly.

He grinned, and looked to the bartender.

“two tequila sunrises, rob.”

---

Sans straightened his jacket as you walked away. Once you were out of sight, his head guard moved over to him, speaking with a low voice.

“Sir?”

“change... my dinner reservation... to two. i want her at my hotel. tonight.”

“Sir, you're aware that she’s...”

He cast his gaze to his guard. His eyelight, soft and warm with you, was now sharp and empty of feeling. “do i look stupid?”

The guard bowed his head in apology. “No, sir. I am just concerned about the Institute.”

He sneered. “they don’t... care. they’ll see that... i’m interested in her... and turn her into ‘bait’. they’ll put her... right in my lap.”

“Yes, sir.”

“make sure... the jet is fuelled. once we’re leaving... it’ll be fast.”

“Yes, sir.”

... Sans paused. He stared in the direction you had left in. His voice, this time, came out much gentler.

“... make the cabin fridge drinks... sweet.”

“Yes, sir.”

[stillness-in-green]

Not-Really Chapter Thoughts BNHA 424

You know, I really think there should be a point at which Deku rushing in with no plan and doing whatever he thinks feels right should become Heroic Malpractice.

Just me?

Because, like, Shouto had a plan. He spent the time between the two war arcs specifically developing a brand-new combat technique that he planned to use to shut down Dabi's combat advantage without killing him. He convinced his dad not to change the plan like Endeavor was hesitantly sounding him out about[1]; he went out and talked and asked questions, and even if they weren't the right words every single time, he did his best and he did it with intention. If Dabi proves to be dead, it won't be because of anything Shouto did to him; it'll be because Dabi himself chose to stand back up, take a warp gate across the country, pick a fight with the guy who doesn't have the power set to shut him down without unduly hurting him, and try to replicate an Ultimate Move specifically tailored for someone with a balanced power set Dabi doesn't have.[2]

And if Dabi lives, it's still going to be because Shouto booked it across the country and used that same technique to stop him again.

1: Dabi surely would have preferred to fight Endeavor from the start, and it probably would have been the more "just" choice if it had to be one or the other, but Shouto is the nominal focal character between the three of them, so, critiques of the broader Hero-side decisions aside, Shouto's arc has to come first. This is one of those places where you can clearly see how much the decision to let Endeavor survive where Horikoshi originally planned for him to die hurts the shape of the later story.

2: Obviously ultimately if Dabi dies, it's going to be because his family and Team Hero made repeated choices to ignore and neglect him, culminating in the entire family swearing to deal with Touya together only to passively accept a battle plan that involved splitting them all and letting the kid who knows Touya the least be the one to fight him. But like, in the context of that fight, Shouto isn't the reason Dabi takes all that hurt.

Uraraka may or may not have had much of a plan, but at least the words she said to Toga reflected that she had been seriously thinking about Toga in the here and now, what Toga's told her, what Toga needs. If Toga dies, it will be because Toga chose to give Uraraka an unsupervised blood transfusion with no intention of stopping it. (With the same general caveats as in Footnote 2.)

But Deku? From the very beginning, Deku has been valorized by the manga for how much he doesn't plan. All Might tells him specifically that it's a sign of greatness shown by future "top Heroes" that, in some crisis situation, their bodies moved before they could think. Bakugou's Rising chapter is defined by him reaching that same state.

Deku claimed he wanted to save Shigaraki; he's sad in the latest chapter that he couldn't save Tenko's[3] life. But did he ever have a real plan to do that? With all the quirks he had at his disposal - both his own and those who would be in the flying coffin with him, or classmates whose presence he could specifically request - did he think hard and come up with a technique that would let him stop Shigaraki without harming him? Did he try to connect with the Shigaraki right in front of him by citing to the future?

3: And I have nothing but scorn for Deku's insistence on that name when "Tenko" goes out very pointedly calling himself Shigaraki Tomura.

Well, no. Deku obstinately yelled at the phantasms in Shigaraki's mindscape that he had no plan whatsoever. The only plans we saw him carry out were ones handed to him by the OFA collective that involved "breaking" Shigaraki's psyche; the only plans he came up with himself involved more efficiently breaking Shigaraki's body.

Way back in Chapter 130, Nighteye harshly scolded Deku by saying that his way of thinking was arrogant. He said, "Go after him haphazardly and he'll slip through our fingers. You're not so special as to be able to save who you want, when you want. (...) This world is not so accommodating that you can act the Hero because you feel like it."

It felt like something that Deku should have taken to heart, a lesson to be learned and applied later, but I never much got the feeling that he did. Nothing he did in that moment, in that arc, or anywhere else in the series afterward indicates that he thought Nighteye was right. He just chose not to talk back, and the arc ended with Nighteye dead and no longer around to pose objections to Deku's mode of heroism.

But Nighteye was right. Three hundred chapters later, Shigaraki is dead because Deku could not be arsed to plan for how he could stop Shigaraki without killing him. Because he let Gran Fucking Torino give him the intellectual out that killing someone could be a means of saving them. Because he followed his gut instincts of prioritizing the phantom Crying Child that he always saw as more valid and real than the human being standing in front of him.

Because he haphazardly acted the Hero and let his body move without thinking.

And he wants to act sad about it now? I hope Nighteye materializes in his bedroom to sneer at him every night for the rest of his life.

--

Incidentally, fuck All Might, seriously. "Wow, Deku and Bakugou, you two are the greatest Heroes ever. Fuck me and everyone else who fought tooth and nail, arm and leg, eye and earjack, life and death, to contribute to the pile of damage that was necessary to kill and/or save Shigaraki and All For One. You two got the last blows in, so you're the only ones who get the credit for it in my eyes. Hero Society is definitely going to be different and better with you two around."

[spdrvyn]

out and about: MIGUEL O'HARA

a short drabble about miguel making time to go on a shopping spree with you in a newly opened mall, however you can't help but feel a little shopper's guilt while he's there.

it's been a busy last couple of months to say the least, miguel hadn't been on a proper date with you for a while. you said that you were doing just fine, but he always had a sixth sense about this.

besides, while he was tending to his job of being a multiversal protector, he's neglected his other (and arguably more important) job. being a supportive and present boyfriend.

he forced himself to clear his calendar, turned on DND mode on all of his devices for once, and got into something that wasn't a skin tight nanotech suit. you'd been overjoyed to discover that miguel had stayed home today, moreso when he told you to get ready because he'd be taking you to the mall to buy a couple of things.

a couple of things was an understatement.

whenever you kept your eyes too long on a certain shop, miguel would usher you in to look around a little. if you so much as touched an item, miguel would already be at the cashier and buying it for you. it went on like that for the entire trip.

bag upon bag hung onto miguel's arms, yet he didn't even seem to struggle. it was attractive, but made you all the more guilty because what if he wasn't actually enjoying this? sure, he brought some items along with you, but what if those purchases were to just spare your feelings?

not to mention that the mall was practically colossal in size. if you said that you wanted to go home, miguel would be thinking that he'd done something wrong. that would be even worse. to add on, you haven't even checked if this place had a book store and miguel knows well that you can't leave a mall without taking a peak which would make him even more suspicious.

you also had to stop at a cafe every now and again to let your throbbing legs rest from walking around the whole time, miguel probably had more weighing on his back. you despised the fact that you were stealing his precious time, you couldn't begin to imagine what could be happening back at his workplace without him. would those people manage to survive? would the multiverse survive?

after visiting the last shop of the day, you were relieved to finally have an excuse to tell him that you were tired and wanted to go back home. miguel understood that, but your silence the whole car ride back was deafening. he thought for sure that this would mean a lot to you, the mall felt tailored to your interests, you'd bought a lot.

why weren't you happy?

what did he do wrong?

you insisted on helping him bring the bags back in, which he indulged you to. after setting them all back into the flat, it was already dark. miguel assisted you in unboxing everything you bought, which you did with a sullen look on your face. especially when you were done, looking over all the unwrapped items, how your pile was so much bigger than his. it could bring you to tears. and it did.

as miguel wrapped an arm around you, he felt it. the slight shiver in your shoulders, the muffled hiccup, and the glossiness on your eyes. worry settled in his features, he pulled you closer to him. "hey, hey. what's wrong? you don't like the stuff i—"

you burst into a fit of sobs, face going red and eyes puffed. you desperately tried to wipe away the tears that streamed down, as you whimpered. "i love it, miguel! i love it so much, but- it's just–"

god, he hated seeing you like this. not because you looked ugly crying or because he found it annoying but because of his incompetence. he had one fucking job, way simpler than whatever he did at work. to make you happy, to make you content, this wasn't what he wanted.

"don't cry, please. i'm sorry, lo siento, por favor. baby, if there is anything else i can do for you, i'll do it."

"that's the thing! you've already done so much for me today, you're so– so nice, too nice, that- that i don't know how to give it back."

your crying had eased a little, miguel's face had softened. he's been trying compensate for how little he's been giving you, that's all, but he didn't think about how you are. maybe he's been too nice recently, but you're too nice all the time.

"you don't have to give anythig i do back, mi vida," he sighed as he moved his hands to cup your cheeks, thumbs rubbing the fat of your cheek as your remaining tears smeared across the skin. "just you being here is enough, it's just that i've been— a little absent lately. i wanted to make it up to you."

"you didn't have to do that, miguel. just you being here is enough for me too." you sniffled. god, you were too adorable for him to take at times. he leaned in and pressed a small kiss to the bridge of your nose, to each of your cheeks, then moving down to press one quickly to your lips.

"let's just do that then," he murmured, "be with each other. s'all i need, all i want." and you agreed. wholeheartedly so.

dividers by across-the-art-verse

[sp0-t]

Preview of some upcoming stories?!! (sort of rambles)

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

You and Simon used to date, it was a while ago, 5 years, 7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days ago to be exact. You never kept count, you wanted to forget everything. It was Simon that kept count, every second, every minute, every hour. He was there keeping track. You moved on, you had a whole new life at this point, new job, new house, new car, even a new partner. You wanted nothing to do with that old life that old place, that old job still haunting you some nights. But that was all behind you, long ago, no reason to dwell on it, you have a new life a new start that not many got. Your old life was behind you forgotten, like a bad dream.

Except this dream came back to haunt you, physically, in the present. In the physical form of Simon “Ghost” Riley. He was the reason you couldn’t sleep at night, the reason you needed a new life in the first place, needed to run away from the past.

Him

HIM

The last person that deserved to come back into your life was here. And he is persistent per usual, no matter what you do, or what you say to him, he was not going to budge he’d stay stolid and still and he’d be that way for the rest of time if he had to.

He’d wait…

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

Gaz and you are two of the biggest names in the modeling world. You can’t talk about it without either name popping up. What makes it even more of popular topic, is the rumor of a certain type of relationship between you two. However these aren’t true they can’t be, at least not yet…

You are in a contract with one of if not the biggest modeling agency in the world, you being their top model, however, you have a very close runner up. They’ve been gaining more and more attraction every year, placing them higher and higher in the rankings. Social media isn’t helping in this case, it’s the very thing that gained them their popularity in the first place. One post about their new male model and the internet goes fucking batshit.

“Who is he?”

“I need him!”

“He’s so fine, omg!”

“The things I would do…”

Well, who is this mystery man, no other than Kyle Garrick. He normally goes by his stage nickname “Gaz”. No one knows where it comes from, but then again no one really cares enough.

However this year both your agency’s are competing for first, both agencies have to put out their best models in a runway show, a panel will then decide who the best is. But then why do people suspect a relationship between the two. A simple cigarette, that was it, a cigarette. Paparazzi can be some nosey individuals, it was after a clothes fitting, both agencies were required to have it done by the same tailor company to remove any bias, and no changes could be made to outfits by this point. It was late out probably 11pm, about to be 12. I guess paparazzi doesn’t sleep, you went out for a cigarette or two. About to light your second you hear the door open behind you.

“Mind if I join you?”

Of course it was him, why wouldn’t it be Gaz

“Do as you please.”

Your voice comes out a bit muffled from the cigarette between your lips. You try and light your cigarette again, you spark the lighter multiple times no flames ever coming to light. You get more and more frustrated the longer it takes to see flames. You bring the thing up to your ear and shake to hear if there’s any liquid, it’s empty. In frustration you throw the lighter against a nearby wall.

“Fucking piece of shit.”

Still muffled from the unlit cigarette you sigh out in frustration and defeat, leaning against the wall behind you. You run your hand through your hair as your about to push off the wall to walk back inside the building, when a flame is placed in front of you.

“Need a light?”

You look up at him a bit confused

“Yeah. Thanks.”

SNAP* SNAP* SNAP* The image of Gaz leaning over slightly cupping the flame to prevent the wind from blowing it out, while you tilt your head a bit up to get your cigarette to reach the flame while Gaz looks down at you. That’s what was going viral, the image, the circulating stories and rumors going around. Both of your names were everywhere, one couldn’t be without the other in the media.

All over a damn cig

💿: I only have two for you today, these are just quick summaries. I’m sorry these are on like “cliff hangers”, I really wanted you guys to make your own assumptions and theories. I do want to start writing an actual full on story for one of the quick ideas I’ve wrote(author!price, PoliceForce!141, and these new ones). I’ll most likely put up a poll for people to vote on which one I’ll write first, so definitely stay around for that if you’re interested!!

(sorry the Simon one is so short but if I added more it would be like double this whole page)

written by: @sp0-t ©️

[johnbrand]

Full-Time Members

“Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence!” Andy chuckled. “Get over here, dickhead!”

Nathaniel swaggered over to the group, each step in his attire deceptively erotic. The starched white shirt rubbing across his sensitive nipples, the tailored khakis juggling his testicles in a back-and-forth moose knuckle. The suede bluchers, the shoulder pads in his jacket, the overly-expensive sunglasses perched on top of his perfect nose. Anyone could guess what type of man Nathaniel was just by looking at his outfit, but the four boys he drew closer to were focusing on what was in his hands.

“Is that…champagne?” Harry’s eyes were wide with admiration.

“Three bottles of it too?” Zack’s eyes were wide with wonder.

“What could possibly be the occasion?” Ricky’s eyes were wide with longing.

Nathaniel drew closer, disposing of the bottles and flutes beside his best buds. “The reception staff offered them to me, a welcome package for our admittance into their fine establishment.”

Andy frowned, “That’s a bit strange, right? Do they know we are only here because we won an auction for a day pass?”

“It’s a country club man, they’re supposed to be filthy rich!” Harry immediately got up and started pouring himself a glass. He did his best not to spill onto his shorts or the sweater his girlfriend had gifted him.

“They’re probably just showing off,” Zack added, his disdain for traditional culture evident by his counterculture outfit: an all-black simple tee and skinny jeans ensemble. “Probably are trying to get us to become full-time members.”

Ricky was already hoisting up his first glass to his lips, drops splashing onto his unruly beard. “And most importantly, it’s free liquor!”

Nathaniel watched contentedly as the three downed their glasses. He could sense the slightest hesitation from Andy.

“Have you tried any of it yet, Nathan?” Andy questioned.

“Certainly, and it was quite divine,” Nathaniel responded. “But why not ask the other fellows for further conclusions?”

“It’s the finest drink I’ve ever had,” Harry replied, scratching at his legs a bit before they disappeared under two white legs of slacks.

“It’s clean, delicate,” Zack noted, toying with the intricate front bit of hair that was meant to appear natural but was actually tediously maintained. “A lovely body of flavor.”

Ricky’s statement was as tight as the rolled up sleeves of his designer button-up. “And it’s champagne.”

Nathaniel made no visible reaction as the preppification completely rewrote his friends. His eyes did not waver as Harry’s curls were mowed down into a lackluster business cut, while Zack’s counterculture apparel burst out into the traditional blazer-button down-slacks combo, or when Ricky’s facial hair fell away to reveal a face that had never seen the inside of a lower-class home. Nathaniel made no visible reaction, but he did experience great satisfaction. He was disappointed however when he realized Andy had still not yet poured himself a glass.

“Is there a problem with the gift, Chandler?” Nathaniel allowed the presumptuous snarl to creep out of his voice. 

“It truly is marvelous,” Harrison’s eyes were wide with arrogance.

“There is nothing quite like it,” Zachariah’s eyes were wide with vain.

“What could possibly be stopping you from having a glass?” Cedric’s eyes were wide with greed.

Andy’s eyes were wide with fear.

The photographer was out a few minutes later, just as Nathaniel had recommended. The country club liked to promote their organization through whatever means they could, including social media. And Nathaniel knew he and his men would enjoy the extra attention and promotion, particularly Chandler, who always went the extra mile to stand out just a tad more. Today, that meant a salmon blazer paired with the lightest of mint-colored shorts.

The crew had no problem posing for the photographer, their cheers to becoming the newest full-time members of the country club wholly authentic.