#I think the first week after the ''reset'' (it's not a reset they just moved to a different part of the Island)

[royalarchivist]

🥲

[thatsdemko]

Monaco lover - d.ricciardo

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

summary: with Daniel not racing, he begins to find new hobbies with his wife.

warnings: established relationships + fluff

a/n: only right I post for daniels bday!!

the basket in his hand is beginning to get heavier by the second, as you keep adding fresh fruits and vegetables from the little local farmers market.

you’re more than hours away from the loud music, busy streets, and the infamous Monaco circuit. your new home is a perfect escape from the city of formula 1.

it was Daniels decision to move away from the big lights and party animals after he no longer had a seat on the 2023 grid. he wanted a reset on life, and there was no perfect way to do it than far away from the cameras.

“you think we have enough to feed everyone?” you look at the overgrowing basket in his arms. leaves of lettuce and kale are hanging out brushing against his thighs as you walk up and down the slow streets.

“more than enough.” he assured you with a chuckle. it’s been weird to have Daniel home so often. you don’t hate it, formula 1 once took the man you loved and wore him down into a shell of himself. now away from the McLaren and happily in a reserve seat for Red Bull, you can begin to see that smile brighten everyday.

“well then let’s go home and wash everything, I’m starving.” you loop your arm through his and let him lead the way to your car, one he knows he won’t get caught or stopped in.

it’s not hard to be recognized, he’s had neighbors stop him while mowing the lawn or gardening with you, but they mostly respect your space unlike the people of Monte Carlo, where the flashing of cameras never stop.

“what are you going to eat first? those strawberries looked really tasty.” he sets the basket in the back seat, before opening your passenger door planting a sweet kiss to your lips.

“I was thinking about those peaches, but now that you say the strawberries, I might have to join you on that.”

“not if I finish them first.”

—

you can’t tell if he’s bored or if he genuinely enjoys cutting the grass, gardening, and the small town farmers markets. you know there’s a certain thrill he’s missing, and maybe he does all these things to occupy his mind of the itch to get back.

but right now, he’s deep into a conversation with your neighbors about the lawn and your backyard garden. he’s showing them the vegetables, herbs, fruits, and flowers he’s planted like they are his children.

it’s weird to you, to see him this way, because all you ever knew was Daniel ricciardo, the racer of fast cars. now he’s the friendly helpful neighborhood hand.

“so you and the misuses are going away next week? where to?” you watch Daniel mock the man’s stance, hands on his hips nodding along as they walk to the backyard.

“just Miami, we shouldn’t be gone for too long.”

“Miami? what are you doing down there?” he asks, quizzical look taking his face. the perks of being away from the chaos of Monte Carlo, meant not everyone in this little small town knew Daniel. and that included your elder neighbors who loved you both dearly.

“just some work stuff, nothing crazy.”

“I thought you were unemployed?”

Daniel laughs, you can hear it from where you sit on the couch, “it’s a lot more complicated than unemployed.” and it truly was, while Daniel was bringing home the big bucks from not driving for mclaren, he anxiously awaits an opportunity for a Red Bull seat this season. some say unemployed delusions, Daniel calls it optimism.

he shakes his head, “you kids these days, you keep me on my toes.” he pats Daniels shoulder, “make sure you two come over later for dessert, okay?”

“oh we wouldn’t miss it.” Daniel waves him off before going inside to find you still wrapped up in the blankets, but this time wide awake with a smile.

“you have fun with your friend?” you sit upright crawling onto your knees to meet him for a kiss. he just laughs wrapping his arms around your neck and pressing s kiss to those lovely lips he calls home.

“I hope when I’m older I turn out to be just like him. tan, happy, and always making dessert.” he laughs a little hoping his future turns out like that. he’s already got the most perfect wife, and soon enough he’ll have the most perfect little family.

“he does make some stellar desserts. his wife is lucky, I wonder when my husband will start making me desserts.” you joke recalling when Daniel attempted to make boxed brownies, and somehow burnt them to a cracker.

“I’ll just stick with growing you fresh fruit and veggies, how about that?”

“I’ll take it.”

[ghcstao3]

(x)

It’s… different, having a teammate held for a genuine interrogation, and not just for some qualifying exercise they’ve all had to participate in.

Soap and Ghost’s fight hadn’t been very fun, for as long as it had lasted. Nothing like their spars where teasing remarks were made around skillful manoeuvres, where at the end of everything they knew what limits could be pushed and what boundaries to respect. Instead it was fought dirty, viciously, and only because Soap knows Ghost was he able to stand his ground at all.

In the end, though, as the targets were detained or killed and the illegal fighting ring shut down—Soap came out victorious, when Ghost had been tranquilized.

The lighting is hardly any better in their makeshift interrogation room, but it’s enough to show Ghost’s withered state since his capture; gaunt cheeks, new scars, hollow stare. He hadn’t come into the arena with a shirt, so he doesn’t have one now—and it hurts Soap to see the outline of his ribs with every haggard breath he takes.

Soap is off in the sidelines as Price pokes and prods his lieutenant for answers—Soap had been deemed too injured to risk getting close, even when Ghost had been restrained. He holds a melting ice pack to a swollen, split lip with the one arm that hadn’t been recently dislocated and reset. He’ll admit that Ghost did a number on him.

He just prays they can get the lieutenant back.

But as the days stretch on, it gets increasingly difficult to hold onto hope. With no information, no signs of breaking, no signs of Simon—he might become a lost cause. And Soap doesn’t think he’s prepared to accept that yet.

Two weeks later, after they’ve moved location and shifted accommodations, Price resigns to finally let Soap help. He’s in much better shape, though the same can hardly be said about Ghost; he barely eats, hasn’t spoken once, and no one on the team is sure he’s really been sleeping.

Soap’s approach is slow. Ghost has already been roused and restrained yet again, perhaps only to be pushed and questioned to no avail like every other time. He barely spares Soap a glance upon his entrance into the room.

Their eyes properly meet for the first time in years when Soap kneels on the ground before Ghost, almost pleading. As if in prayer.

Simon’s eyes were always warm. They were the colour of Simon’s favourite tea, flecked with honey gold when the light hit his irises at just the right angle. Now, his gaze is frigid, his eyes nearly black. It takes everything within Soap not to mourn then and there.

“I’m sorry,” Soap murmurs. “I was supposed to have your six.”

Ghost stares at him with indifference, his attention in a faraway place. Soap misses his lieutenant now more than ever.

“I’d understand if you never forgive me,” Soap continues, itching to reach out and touch, “but I at least need you to come back, yeah? Please, Simon.”

Ghost’s jaw twitches almost imperceptibly.

Against all orders Price had given Soap, and against all training that has Soap’s instincts screaming—he leans his head against Ghost’s knee. He exhales shakily and just… sits like that, for a little while. Ghost doesn’t move, so neither does Soap, and maybe this will be the best thing the sergeant could get ever again, so he relishes.

Soap almost misses the hitch in Ghost’s own breathing, but he certainly doesn’t miss trembling, curious fingers dragging through his mohawk, now nearly overgrown. Soap freezes.

Ghost’s voice is nothing more than a hoarse whisper when he speaks, but Soap’s heart is pounding loudly in his chest as he listens anyway.

Quiet, broken, and nearly inaudible, something slips from Ghost’s lips for the first time in two weeks.

“Johnny.”

[malum-forev]

A Place I Once Called Home

Summary: The four times Bucky showed up at your place unexpected. 

The first time Bucky came stumbling into your apartment was a few weeks after he moved into the building. You’d been living in New York for quite some time so you weren’t oblivious to The Avengers and the fact that they resided in the same apartment complex. It was actually one of the reasons you paid the premium for living there. So what if your landlord hiked up the rent twice a year and there were some broken windows thanks to aliens trying to get to the superheroes when they’re least expecting it, right? It was all in the name of safety. Or so you thought.

Your friends had left hours ago, and although you loved your weekly wine and cheese night you sometimes hoped they would stay after to help you clean the dishes. You hummed along to the song that was quietly playing, the small speaker filling your whole apartment. At first you thought the rattling you heard was part of the melody. But a chill went through your spine as you heard a loud thump at your door, making you almost drop the wine glass into the soapy water. 

As you dried your hands and walked towards the door there was another loud bang against your door. You clutched the baseball bat hidden behind your TV, a lovely present from a misogynistic ex-boyfriend. He’d thought it be ‘cute’ to show you how to hold a bat. There’s only one fucking way to hold a bat you mansplaining son of a- bang! 

‘You don’t have time to think about this right now!’ You scolded yourself. 

You peered through the peephole to find two male figures trying to pick your lock, the handle rattled. 

One, two, three deep breaths and you opened the door, bat clutched and ready to hit anything and everything. A woman ready for battle, adrenaline rushed through your veins, blood rushing to your head. But before you could even unleash your first swing, one of the men dropped near your knees with a thump and a groan. Half of his body inside your apartment while his long legs sprawled across the hallway. 

“Buck! You said your apartment was 213!” The man you soon recognized as Captain America said, shooting you a ‘You have no idea how sorry I am’ face with reddened cheeks. 

You stood inside your apartment with mouth agape as you watched one of Earths Mightiest Heroes struggle to pull another super up from your floor. 

“Miss I am truly sorry to have interrupted you.” Captain America apologized. “I’m Steve and the man who is currently petting your slippers is my friend Bucky.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked down at the man known as the Winter Soldier running his hand through the fur of your plush husky shaped slippers.

“I’m more of a cat guy but these two doggies look friendly. What-“ he hiccupped. “are their names?”

His steel blue eyes followed yours as Steve picked him off the floor and leaned him against your doorframe. 

“Ma’am, are you okay?” It was until Steve asked you the question that you realized you hadn’t answered.

You shook your head to try and reset your brain. “I’m sorry, yes I’m good it’s just that- well I know some superheroes live here I just didn’t think two Avengers would come knocking on my door. 

“I’m not an Avenger.” Bucky grumbled, closing his eyes for what he thought was a second. What actually happened was that he lost his balance and ended up falling forward into you. It took all of your strength to not topple over. 

“For fucks sake.” Steve muttered under his breath, he usually didn’t swear but his best friend was making his patience wear down, as he peeled Bucky off of you.

“You smell really nice.” Bucky slurred with a loopy smile. 

 “Just to wrap things up, we’re extremely sorry for trying to break into your apartment, for probably scaring you half to death and for anything and everything Bucky’s said.” Steve smiled before turning right and lugging his friend down the hallway.

“His apartment is down this way!” You said pointing to the left side. “216, on the other side of the hall.”

“Thank you ma’am. Have a good night.” Steve huffed hiking up Bucky’s arm on his shoulder, as they passed your apartment again. 

“Thank you pretty lady.” Bucky said with a singsong tone and a wink. 

The second time you found Bucky in your apartment was a few weeks later. He had walked past your door a total of six times in the last few hours. The mission was to give you an iced coffee for your troubles the other night. And as of today, he was two weeks and four days late on completing the mission. The original plan was to stop by the day after he’d drunkenly showed up at your door, but the anxiety and panic that had settled into his bones made him jump back into his place anytime he heard your door open.

“What if she doesn’t drink coffee? She’ll think it’s disrespectful of me to bring her that.” He convinced himself. So the only logical thing to do was to follow you around for a couple of days. Maybe this way he would find out your exact order and get it right. Not telling his therapist what he was up to would be smart. 

After a few days he got your order right and even found out what kind of flowers you liked. 

Days passed and the petals from the bouquet he bought started falling off, the ice on your coffee was long gone. Another worried crease appeared on his forehead as he contemplated walking to your apartment with nothing in his hands but no, the pretty lady with the beautiful eyes he thought he’d only dreamt about deserved more. 

So here he was, a new coffee in his right hand and a bouquet of flowers on his left one. But before he knew it, another problem raised. How the hell was he supposed to knock on your door. Was he supposed to use the right one and spill your coffee or would he have to hope that by using the left one the petals wouldn’t drop. He was about to abort the mission completely but then he heard your lock turn. 

With each second that passed, and God did he feel like millions passed, he grew more nervous. Was his hand actually sweating? That hadn’t happened since before he enlisted. 

But once you opened your door with that cheeky smile of yours, everything seemed to disappear.

“Should I be concerned about this habit of yours? Do you always lurk around women’s doors?” 

One sentence, that’s all it took for him to turn into putty. A useless puddle around your feet, begging for more of you, anything you’d give him. 

“I only lurk around the ones who I owe an apology to.” Bucky licked his lips, bringing forward the contents in his hands.

“Hmm, my orders exactly. Did you get lucky or did someone help you out?” You smiled at him as you took both gifts and walked back into your apartment. Bucky took you leaving the door open as an invitation. Did you always do this or were you letting him in because there was something unique? He urgently needed answers because in just a couple of minutes you’d already managed to make him feel special. 

“I’m a good at apologies and buying gifts.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, eyes glued to the floor. 

You bit the inside of your cheek. “You’re a pretty good liar but terrible at hiding. You’d think being a super-secret spy assassin would make you stealthy.”

His eyes widened first at your words then at your laughter. The sound rang in his head like a beautiful melody. 

“I saw you following me a couple of days ago.” You smiled, placing the flowers in a vase full of water. “In the coffee shop down the street, in the flower shop. I even saw you in the library, I’m almost positive you were reading a book upside down!”

The blush crept from the back of his neck up to the apples of his cheeks. 

“I wanted to make sure I got you the right coffee.” Bucky mumbled, his one chance with you and he’d blow it. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You trapped your bottom lip with your teeth as his body perked up hearing your words. 

“We can start again.” You held your hand out and told him your name. 

The third time was a month after the apology. In the last four weeks, the two of you had been spending every possible single second together. It started when you ‘accidentally’ came out of your apartments at the same time. Bucky would never admit that he was looking through his peephole and waiting for you to turn the knob on your door. 

“Good morning.” Bucky said with a fake yawn, acting like he hasn’t been up since 5:05am. He stretched his arms a little more than he had to, making sure you could catch a glimpse of his toned body under his dark t-shirt. Bucky knew he’d missed out on many things but flirting with you came naturally. “Do you know any good coffee places around here?”

You smiled at his obvious antics blushing like a schoolgirl. “There’s this place around the corner.”

Your morning coffee turned into a morning run and then coffee ritual, then breakfast was added. Afterwards, lunch at 12:30 and dinner at your house every Thursday. Which turned into dinner at alternating apartments every day of the week. 

But today you truly weren’t expecting him.

“I’ll see you on Monday okay? Coffees on me?” He’d mumbled against your hair two days ago, your body wrapped in his arms. “I just gotta go on this mission but I promise I’ll be back before our run.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, it felt like a bunch of thorns prickling your neck. In just a few short weeks he’d become an integral part of your life. You realized it was stupid to feel like this about someone who’d never even said he liked you but you couldn’t help but fall headfirst. “Please be safe.” 

He tilted your head up towards him and ran his knuckles down your cheek. Your soft skin soothed his rough hands. He couldn’t believe someone as angelic as you would even look at someone like him. His troubled mind and his past didn’t seem to affect you. You just saw him. For the first time in forever he felt scared to go to a mission, knowing he had something to lose. 

“I’ll be back sooner than you think, doll.” He smiled as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. 

Now, you found yourself being woken up by two soft knocks on your door. 11:45 pm on Sunday night. You must’ve fallen asleep on your couch, your TV asking you ‘Are you Still Watching?”

A bruised and bloody Bucky greeted you as you opened your door. A gasp escaped your lips.

“That bad huh?” Bucky chuckled, leaning against your doorframe. 

You dragged the Winter Soldier into your small bathroom and sat him on the edge of the tub, grabbing your first aid kit from underneath your sink. You sat in front of him, scooting your knees to rest on the inside of his legs, wiping the blood off of his cut lip. 

“Do you always come home like this?” You asked, throwing away another antiseptic wipe into the bin.

“I usually go to the med bay after missions.” Bucky shrugged, his eyes never leaving yours.

A worried look took over your features. “Why didn’t you go this time?”

“I made you a promise. If I’d gone all the way over there I wouldn’t have been able to make our run tomorrow.”

Your whole body fluttered and you couldn’t help yourself. You took Bucky’s face in your hands and you smashed your lips to his. Bucky held the back of your neck as he followed your lead. He kissed like a man starved, your kisses felt like the sun shining in the middle of a snowy winter. It lit him up inside. Before you knew it, you were dragging him from the bathroom into your bedroom, bumping into various furniture but not caring.

You only separated to take his shirt off. 

“Wait!” Bucky said, his jagged breath didn’t stop him from unbuckling his belt with one hand while the other was already working on the button of his jeans.

You tugged your shirt back down. “You want to stop?”

A loud laugh ripped through his chest. “No! God no. I was just going to ask you if we could keep our kisses to the left side of my mouth.” He pointed at his bruised lip.

You bit your bottom lip. “I think I could do that.”

He could come undone just by looking at you. Your sweet face only spoke words of temptation and he was more than happy to convert. 

The fourth time came eight months after he’d asked you to be his girlfriend. Everything had been great up until a month ago when the days started getting longer and the disappointment grew deeper. 

You’d arranged a special dinner with Bucky since he’d been working late recently and now he was three hours late, again. The food had already been in the fridge for a while and the candles blown out. 

He found you sitting on the fire escape when he came into the apartment, the faint smell of cigarettes lingered. 

“I thought you said you’d quit smoking a long time ago.” Bucky tried to joke but his words sounded harsher than he’d intended. 

“This isn’t working.” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Bucky chuckled, shoving a forkful of cold pasta into his mouth. “Of course it’s not working, you keep an old pack of cigarettes in the closet.”

He choked on a loose noodle as he saw your tear-stained face. You wiped your cheeks, your whole face felt hot. “You and I, Buck. We’re not working.”

This was it, the moment he’d been preparing for. He knew you would break sooner or later, who in their right mind would want to have an actual relationship with him. Someone who has to constantly sacrifice dinners and anniversaries, someone who risks his life on a daily basis, someone who risks the lives of loved ones on purpose. 

A few weeks back, he’d been interrogating someone linked to the Flag Smashers when he’d heard the words he’d been dreading. Your name slipped out of them like venom. They’d found out about his secret, Bucky had been guarding your love with his life but it wasn’t enough. You’d always be in danger with him.

But he couldn’t bear to leave you so he took the cowards way out. Spent more time at the compound, trained longer and drove mindlessly for hours, all so you would think he was busy with work or that he didn’t care. Maybe one day you would get tired and leave him because he sure as hell couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes and tell you it’s over.

And although he was expecting these words to come out of your mouth sooner or later, it still broke him. His heart fractured like porcelain, a deep hurt brewed in his body like a deep pit somehow appeared in his stomach.

“I understand.” He whispered, gluing his arms to his side because if he so much as touched the aura around you, he would drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. “I come with a lot of baggage and my job doesn’t really help so, I understand.”

A dry laugh escaped you, the sadness in your eyes turning into fury. “I knew what I was getting into when we started dating Buck. I knew you had hundred-year-old baggage weighing on you like a ton of bricks. I was also aware of your job description and even though I fucking hate seeing you hurt- and you have no idea how much it physically pains me to see you come through that door with a black eye and broken everything, I know it’s something I have to get over. Because I was willing to be with you, all of you.”

“We could have been like this forever, happy and in love. And every single day I would open that door and listen to the shit you have to put up with from all the people who don’t know you and clean your wounds and take care of you. I could have done that till the end of my life. But I can’t anymore, not when you lie. You’ve been lying about being at work when I know damned well you left hours ago. I cannot be with you if you won’t tell me what goes through your head. What troubles you. You won’t even say you love me, when I know for a fact you do.”

“You wait every single night until you think that I’ve fallen asleep and you say you love me over and over because you think I can’t hear you. But I do. And I love you, I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much that- that I’m willing to let you go. Because you sure as hell don’t want to stay, for some unknown reason you won’t tell me.”

“You won’t tell me even though I’ve proven to you that I can take care of your naked soul. No Winter Soldier, no vibranium, no Hydra. Just Bucky.” Your voice cracked. “So if you won’t admit that, then you should leave.”

Your words cut through Bucky like thousands of knives, each tear that fell from your face was a reminder of why he had to leave even though his whole body begged him to stay. He would hurt you more if he stayed- so that’s what he did, he left. Without a word he walked out of the apartment that had become a true home to him for the first time in decades and never looked back. Not when you slammed the door and not when he heard you sob. 

Part 2: Hurry Back Home

Wanna read more like this? Here’s my latest post. 💖

Authors Note:

Heeeyyy everyoneee, sooo this is the first time I've posted in a loooongggg time so I hope you guys liked it. If you did please like comment reblog the whole thing! Thanksss <3

[tigertales9]

Hard Reset

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: The first game of the 2023 season didn't go well. This fic covers the aftermath with a quick flashback to the game.

Time/Place: Monday, Sep. 11, 2023 (the day after the week 1 loss to Cleveland) / Cincinnati, Ohio

Edit: Explanation is here

Here's the follow-up - Hard Reset II

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You wake up slowly, stretching and yawning before turning your head to look at Joe; he's still asleep, his lips slightly parted and his messy hair fanned out against his pillow. You ease out of bed -- careful not to wake him -- and walk into the bathroom, quickly peeing and washing your face before heading downstairs to make coffee.

You roll your shoulders and stretch a bit while you wait for the coffee to be done. Your entire body feels a little sore from literally tensing most of your muscles throughout yesterday's game in Cleveland. Between the awful weather, the lackluster offense, and Joe looking like he was one wrong move away from getting hurt, the game had been a miserable experience.

You pour a cup of coffee and add a splash of salted caramel creamer before taking a seat at the kitchen island, your mind rewinding back to yesterday.

~ ~ ~

You'd been anxious well before kick-off, worried that the team was rushing Joe back before his calf injury was fully healed. The steady rain had kicked your anxiety into overdrive, you and Joe's mom exchanging worried looks while his dad tried to remain stoic. It became obvious fairly quickly that Joe was hampered by the calf, not really rolling out or scrambling as well as usual. Every hit he took, every time he slipped on the wet turf, your heart jumped into your throat. The fact that he got out of Cleveland without getting anything but his ego hurt seemed like a damn miracle.

And his ego was definitely hurt, you think to yourself, remembering the look on his face when he got home late Sunday night after the game. You'd been home long enough to shower and change clothes before he came in; you hurried to hug him as soon as he walked through the door, pressing your face against his broad chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

"You okay?" you asked. "I'm fine," he grumbled, "and I really don't wanna talk about it," he continued, dropping a kiss on your forehead to soften his words. You leaned back and looked up into his face. "You hungry?" you asked, biting your lip when he shook his head no. "Can we just go to bed?" he asked, giving you a tired smile as you took his hand and led him toward the stairs.

~ ~ ~

The sound of Joe ambling down the stairs snaps you back to the present (Monday morning); you spin your barstool toward him and give him a smile, taking in his wild hair and grumpy expression.

"Good morning, sunshine," you chuckle. "Morning," he mutters, dropping a quick kiss on your lips before heading to the fridge to grab the orange juice. You zero in on his gait, trying hard to decide if he's limping or just doing his usual long-legged, loose-hipped stride.

"Calf feels fine, babe," he states, throwing you a knowing look over his shoulder.

"How did you know I was looking at your calf?" you scoff. "Your back was to me."

He takes a sip of his juice before answering. "Were you looking at my calf?"

"Maybe," you shrug, rolling your eyes playfully when he gives you a smug grin. "So it feels good?"

"It feels … fine," he answers, giving you a 'don't go there' look.

You really want to 'go there' but decide not to. "You want some breakfast?"

"Yeah, I'm starving," he groans, sitting beside you at the island while you list possible breakfast items.

"How does an omelet sound? And maybe some avocado toast?"

"Yes and yes," he chirps, his demeanor perking up at the thought of yummy food.

About forty minutes later you watch him finish the last bite on his plate. "That was delicious," he moans, giving you a smile while rubbing his stomach. "Wish I could go straight back to bed for a nap," he sighs. "I didn't sleep worth a shit last night, but I need to get to the facility."

"Too bad you have to go on your day off," you mumble, cutting the last bite of your avocado toast in half and handing him a portion.

"Yeah." He pops the tasty morsel in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before giving you a shrug. "But you know how it is. Gotta get treatment -- maybe watch a little film while I'm there -- then I can come home and take a nap."

You nod your head before responding. "Anybody coming over to watch the Bills & Jets game tonight?"

"No. I don't feel like having anybody over." He stands up and grabs both of your plates. "Guess it'll just be you and me," he continues, quickly rinsing the dishes before loading them into the dishwasher.

He walks to the stove to grab the skillet and you shoo him away. "I'll take care of that," you state, standing on your tiptoes to give him a kiss before he turns and heads for the stairs; you watch him carefully as he walks away from you, giving him a bland smile when he shoots you a look over his shoulder. "I was looking at your ass not your calf," you lie, smiling at the sound of his laughter as he disappears upstairs.

~ ~ ~

Several hours later after a shared nap and a 'cheat day' pizza dinner, y'all are snuggled on the sofa watching the lead-up to Monday Night Football.

"Think it's gonna be a good game," you ask, smiling at his inelegant snort. "Who knows," he sighs. "I just hope both teams put on a better show than we did yesterday. We sucked ass, especially me."

"You were playing in shitty weather after missing damn near all of training camp," you grumble. "Give yourself a break, okay?"

He turns his head and locks eyes with you. "I just signed a 275 million dollar contract. There are no 'breaks' when that kind of money has been handed to you."

"You earned every penny of that and then some," you retort. "This franchise has gone from being an absolute joke to a top contender because of you." You take a deep breath before plowing ahead. "What you've accomplished in just two full seasons is mind-blowing and …"

"Babe?" he interrupts.

"What?"

"None of that changes the fact that I sucked ass yesterday."

"But you weren't 100%."

"Tough shit. I've never made excuses and I refuse to start now."

You stare at each other for several heartbeats before you break the silence. "You're right. Sorry."

"No need to apologize."

You give him a smile. "Didn't mean to get my panties in a wad over it."

"Need some help with that?" he chuckles, sliding a hand up your thigh, laughing even harder when you playfully slap it away. "Easy there, horndog. You're about to miss Mr. Rodgers running out waving the flag." You point at the TV and Joe turns his head to watch. "This is some high-octane drama," he murmurs, shaking his head as y'all watch the remainder of the pre-game festivities in silence.

A little while later you head to the kitchen to grab some water. "That pizza was salty as hell," you mutter, guzzling most of your glass before refilling it, almost dropping it when you hear Joe holler.

"Oh shit!"

"What is it?" you chirp, setting your glass on the kitchen counter and hurrying back to Joe, your gaze locking on the TV as the replay rolls.

"Aaron went down really awkward," Joe mutters, standing up off the sofa to walk closer to the TV. "Looked like his cleat got stuck in the turf." You walk up beside him and watch the replay again, now in super slow-mo. "Jesus, it's his fucking Achilles," Joe whispers, running a hand through his hair in agitation as he watches the trainers help Aaron off the field.

"He's putting some weight on it," you offer hopefully. "Maybe it's not that bad."

"It's bad," he mumbles, pulling his phone out and doing a quick search. "Fuck," he breathes, shaking his head as he watches something, rewinding it a few times.

"What are you watching?"

"A man's Achilles tendon snap like a brittle rubber band."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Don't look too close at that replay or you'll see it too." His eyebrows slowly creep up when his phone starts blowing up with texts. He bites his lip while looking at the display.

"Who's texting you?"

"Just some teammates … and my parents."

"You're not gonna answer them?"

"No, because I know exactly what they're gonna say."

"What?"

He takes a deep breath and stares at the ceiling for a minute before locking eyes with you. "Aaron had a calf strain like mine back during OTAs. Folks are gonna say that his Achilles injury is proof I shouldn't be playing until my calf is 100% healed."

"Was his calf strain on the same leg as the Achilles injury?"

"No, but overcompensating and favoring one leg over the other can result in an injury to the good leg."

"So it sounds like you shouldn't be playing until your calf is fully healed, right? Or you risk either making the calf injury worse or sustaining an overcompensation injury."

"No," he shakes his head in annoyance. "Aaron is older than me and has had calf issues his entire career. Plus, his cleat got stuck in the fucking turf. It's bad luck not an overcompensation injury."

His phone rings and he stares at it for a second before ignoring it.

"Who's that?"

"Mom." He makes a 'don't go there' face when you open your mouth to say something; you glare at him for several heartbeats before you're startled by your own phone ringing. You quickly check the display as Joe speaks up. "If that's my mom don't answer it."

"Hey Robin," you say, turning your back on Joe when he rolls his eyes. "I'm not talking to her," he says loudly, his expression totally belligerent when you spin around and lock eyes with him. "Well, I am!" you snap. "And I know you're not gonna tell me who I can and can't talk to!"

He's smart enough to keep his mouth shut as you continue your conversation with his mom. "Yeah, it's super concerning since it's the same injury Joe has. Something about overcompensating a calf strain makes you really vulnerable to an Achilles injury." Joe makes a snorting noise and you cut your eyes at him while continuing. "Well, he's a hard-headed, stubborn asshole when it comes to stuff like this, so no way he's gonna listen to us about it."

"Damn right," he mutters, ignoring your warning look while picking at his thumbnail.

"Okay, I'll tell him," you sigh, ending the call and hitting Joe with an exasperated look. "Your mom would like to talk to you when you feel like it."

"It's not gonna be tonight," he states. "And it may not be for a while since I don't feel like hearing a bunch of crap about why I shouldn't be playing."

"She's just worried about you, Joe. We all are."

"That's nice, but I don't wanna talk about it with anybody right now." You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off. "That includes you."

You heave a sigh and lick your lips before responding. "But …"

"Drop it!" he snaps, immediately grimacing when he sees the look on your face. "Fine," you whisper, brushing his hand off your arm as he reaches out to touch you. "I didn't mean for it to come out like that," he mumbles, following you as you turn and head toward the kitchen; halfway there you hear his phone ring, your eyes going wide when he answers it.

"Hey Coach," he mutters, turning back toward the living room as you continue into the kitchen.

"Of course he answers Coach's call," you grumble, stopping just out of sight to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Yeah, I saw it," Joe says. "Looked like his cleat got caught in the turf. It's def a ruptured Achilles." He listens for a minute before speaking back up. "As far as I'm concerned this changes nothing for me. I intend to play Sunday as long as I don't have any setbacks between now and then."

You let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding and walk farther into the kitchen, grabbing your water glass to refill it before setting it back down. "Fuck it," you mumble, reaching into a cabinet for a wine glass before pulling a bottle of rosé out of the fridge; you pour a large serving and take a couple of sips before heading toward the stairs, rolling your eyes when you hear Joe talking about some offensive scheme with Coach Taylor.

Fifteen minutes later you're chin deep in a bubble bath, the only light in the bathroom coming from several candles; you take a sip of cold wine and hold it on your tongue for a bit before swallowing, your pulse picking up when you hear a soft knock at the door.

"Can I come in?" Joe calls.

"Yeah," you answer, setting your glass on the tub ledge as he opens the door and slowly approaches you; he drops to his knees beside the oversized tub and blinks a few times as his eyes adjust to the semi-darkness. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," he states. "I'm under a lot of pressure, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

You take in his earnest expression, struck speechless for a few seconds at how achingly beautiful his face is in the flickering candlelight. "I understand," you finally concede. "I just wish you'd talk to me about it instead of shutting me down."

"There's nothing to talk about because my mind's made up. If practice goes well this week -- and I receive clearance to play -- I'm taking the field this Sunday. I'm sorry if that makes you mad."

"I'm not mad. I'm scared," you whisper, blinking your eyes rapidly to try and keep tears from falling.

He bites his bottom lip and leans in closer. "Babe, I'm not gonna lie and say there's nothing to be scared of because you never know what's gonna happen in this sport. Here's the thing though." He runs a hand through his hair before continuing. "I could bubble-wrap my entire body and sit out until I feel 100% healthy," he shrugs, "but the second I step back on the field I'm at risk just like every other player. Instead of a calf it might be another blown-out knee, cracked ribs, a bad concussion …"

"You're making me feel a lot better, thanks," you butt in, grabbing your wine glass and taking a hearty gulp.

"My point is … guys get hurt every week. You can't play scared, though, or you might as well just go ahead and hang 'em up." He takes a deep breath and let's it out slowly. "You went through my knee rehab with me so you know it was hell. But we came out the other side stronger than ever. If, God forbid, something like that happens again, I know we'll get through it, okay?"

"I guess it has to be okay," you sigh. "I mean this is your job. It's violent as hell, and it may get you permanently maimed or worse one of these days, but unfortunately you're really good at it."

He gives a snort of laughter while shaking his head. "Unfortunately?"

"That was a little harsh," you admit, watching as he stands up and strips his clothes off.

"Scoot forward," he orders, stepping into the tub behind you as you do his bidding; he eases into the warm, frothy water, his long legs stretching out on either side of you as he pulls you back against him, your back to his chest.

Once he's settled he digs his fingers into your shoulder muscles, working out the tension as you give an appreciative moan. "That feels good," you whisper, your toes curling as he moves to your neck muscles, taking his time to give you a thorough neck and shoulder massage before dipping his hands below the water surface to rest on your thighs. "How did you know my thighs are sore?" you sigh, your eyes sliding closed in pleasure as his big hands knead your sore thigh muscles.

"Because I'm guessing you were so tense at the game yesterday you could've cracked a walnut with your buttcheeks."

"You have a way with words," you giggle, taking a sip of wine before setting the glass on the tub ledge and relaxing back against him. He continues to massage your thighs for several minutes, his right hand edging closer to your crotch before he finally ghosts his fingertips over your folds; your body reacts instantly but your mind refuses to play along. You wait a minute to see if you can get in the mood before dropping a hand down and gently moving his hand back onto your thigh. "I'm not in the right headspace for that," you murmur. "My body's saying yes but my mind's saying no."

"It's okay," he soothes, pressing a kiss on your neck. "I just thought some endorphins might help you relax."

"Absolutely would if I could shut my damn brain off for a few minutes." A thought hits you. "If you want me to get you off I'll be happy to."

"I'm not really in the right headspace, either."

Y'all fall silent for a bit before he speaks back up. "Since we're both tired as hell why don't we get in bed, put something boring on TV and hope it lulls us to sleep."

"Sounds good," you sigh, easing out of the tub and drying off before brushing your teeth; you step into a pair of panties as Joe blows out the candles, a smile gracing your lips at the comforting feel of his hand on the small of your back as he follows you into the bedroom.

~ ~ ~

The next morning (Tuesday) you're in the kitchen making breakfast burritos when Joe comes down the stairs already dressed for the day.

"Smells delicious," he says, watching you roll up two fat burritos before setting them on a hot griddle to get toasty. "What's in 'em?"

"Eggs, spicy turkey sausage, onion, red bell pepper, poblano, jalapeno, and some chipotle salsa."

"Yum," he groans, grabbing a couple of plates as you flip the burritos, smiling down at you as y'all wait for the second side to get golden.

"Did you sleep okay? he asks, dropping a kiss on your lips. "Not really. Check out these dark circles," you grimace, pointing at your face. "Your barely-there dark circles ain't got nothing on this huge zit," he grumps, pointing at a miniscule dot on his chin. You squint your eyes and lean in close. "Boy please," you scoff. "It doesn't count if you need a magnifying glass to see it."

"It's not nice to talk about Travis Kelce's dick like that, babe," he deadpans, both of you cackling like hyenas for a bit before settling down.

Y'all eventually sit down at the table and exchange small talk over breakfast, mostly about your plans for the day:

his plans = work-out, treatment, film session

your plans = work-out, virtual meeting for work, errands

Once breakfast is done you slide the last dish into the dishwasher just as Joe's phone rings; he checks the display before giving you a look. "It's Josh," he says.

"Josh Allen?"

"Yeah, I texted him earlier. He looked like he was going through it in his post-game presser last night."

You nod in agreement, loving the fact that a lot of the young NFL QBs reach out to each other to lend support. They're rivals on the field but off of it they're a very elite brotherhood. Nobody understands the pressure on a QB1 except for another QB1.

You finish wiping down the counters and tune into the conversation.

"Yeah, bro, I know it sucks," Joe states, "but even the best-of-the-best shit the bed every now and then. You just gotta flush it down and move on." He catches your eye for a second before continuing. "Listen, you're being too hard on yourself. The worst thing you can do is dwell on it. Keep your head up and unleash hell next week."

You give him a smile as he ends the call. "Is he okay?"

Joe shrugs. "He's really beating himself up about the four turnovers he had."

"You gave him some great advice. Actually, you're giving him a lot more grace than you give yourself."

"He needs it more than I do," Joe boasts.

"Hardass," you scold, giving him a playful grin.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he smirks, leaning down to drop a kiss on your lips before heading for the door. "Have a good day," he calls over his shoulder, giving you a wink before disappearing into the garage.

A few hours later you stagger into the house carrying four heavy bags of groceries. "Should've made two trips," you chuckle, heaving the bags onto the kitchen counter with a sigh of relief. You eventually get everything put away, yawning a couple of times in the process. "I could really use a nap," you mutter, checking your watch. "Plenty of time," you smile, heading upstairs and stripping down to your undies before falling into bed.

An hour and a half later you come awake abruptly, your body so close to climax that you can't believe you don't fall over the edge. "Shit," you whisper, still groggy from sleep as you cup a hand over your throbbing crotch. You consider finishing yourself off but decide to wait for Joe to get home.

You take several deep breaths as you remember the reason for your hyper-aroused state -- an erotic dream about your man. "So hot," you mumble, easing out of bed and checking the clock, noting that Joe should be home soon. You walk into your closet and grab a couple of items, deciding to recreate the outfit from your dream.

You pull on a tight white t-shirt -- no bra -- before adding a black flouncy skirt so short it barely covers your buttcheeks. "Not bad," you whisper, checking your reflection in the mirror while fluffing your hair. "Oh yeah, almost forgot" you breathe, reaching under your skirt to slide your panties off, tossing them aside as you turn and head for the door.

You're halfway down the hallway to Joe's office when you hear the garage door open; your entire body immediately reacts, every single pleasure point throbbing in anticipation. You hurry into his office as you hear him coming up the stairs. "I'm in your office," you call loudly, "and I hope you're ready for this," you add under your breath.

"Hey," he says as he strides into the room, the big grin on his face morphing into a look of surprise and then lust as he gives you a slow once-over, his gaze coming to rest on your hard nipples plainly visible through your thin shirt.

You immediately notice his haircut but are too far gone to mention it. "I took a nap earlier and had a dream about you," you admit, closing the distance between you and rising up onto your tiptoes to give him a kiss. "Must have been a good one," he says, deepening the kiss while cupping his big hands over your breasts, teasing your sensitive nubs through your shirt; he pinches them just hard enough to make you gasp, and you press your thighs together at the gush of liquid heat in your core. He reads your body language and drops a hand down, sliding it under your short skirt before slowing inching it up your inner thigh, making a sound that's part groan/part growl when he realizes you're not wearing panties.

"Damn, babe," he hisses, pulling back to look down at you as he plays with your slick folds. "So wet for me." He slides a long finger inside you, both of you moaning when your walls clench hard around it.

"We gotta slow down or I'm gonna cum," you whimper. "Is that a bad thing?" he asks, latching his pretty mouth onto your neck while pumping his finger inside you. "I wanna do it just like in my dream," you pant, taking a couple of steps back to try and get yourself under control; you watch him suck his wet finger into his mouth, the look on his face causing your core to react.

"What do you need?" he asks. "Get naked," you order, taking your own clothes off while he does your bidding; you walk toward his desk, spinning his large, black leather desk chair to face you before pointing at it. "Sit," you urge, watching closely as he follows orders, his long legs falling open in his usual manspread.

You drop to your knees between his thick thighs, your mouth immediately on his hard cock as he buries both hands in your hair, his throaty groans going directly to your clit as you work him in all his favorite ways.

Shit, gotta fast-forward, you think to yourself. You'd teased him more in your dream, but you're literally about to bust so you quickly stand up and crawl into his lap, gasping when he grabs your waist and lifts you onto the desk. "This wasn't in the dream," you whisper, laying back against the desk as he grabs your ankles and places your feet on either side of him on the arms of the chair. "Just let me have a quick taste," he purrs, waiting for your approval before lowering his head.

You run your hands over his fresh fade haircut, relishing the velvet-like feel as he licks your wet slit a few times before sliding his tongue inside. "Oh my God," you moan, fisting a hand in his hair as he continues to tongue-fuck you, grateful that he left enough hair on top of his head to get a nice handful.

Even though he's strategically avoiding your clit, you quickly feel that delicious tension building inside you. "That feels so good but you gotta stop," you whine. "Why?" he asks. "Because I wanna cum on your cock," you say matter-of-factly.

The words barely leave your mouth before you find yourself lifted off the desk and straddling his lap, your head spinning a little as he makes sure you're settled before he drops a hand down to his erection, dragging it through your drenched folds a few times to gather moisture before pushing inside. It's been a few days and you bite your lip at the way he fills you up, inch by inch, the delicious stretch making your eyes water and raising chill bumps on your skin.

"So good," you whisper once he's fully seated, holding yourself still for several heartbeats to adjust to his thick length. Your gaze is drawn to your juices glistening on his lips, and you can't resist leaning forward and slowly licking them before sucking his plump bottom lip into your mouth. His cock twitching deep inside you spurs you into action, and within a few seconds you're riding him hard

"Don't touch my clit yet," you whimper, digging your fingers into his muscular shoulders as you hit the perfect pace. "Yes, ma'am." He runs his hands up and down your thighs before resting them on your ass. "Did I talk dirty to you in your dream?" he grits out, his big hands squeezing your plump ass as you bounce on his cock. "Y … yeah," you pant. "Thank fuck," he groans, his gaze resting on your bouncing breasts for several seconds before he locks eyes with you and starts talking, the filthy praise spilling from his pretty lips arousing your body like a physical touch.

"I'm so close," you gasp. "Want me to finish you?" he asks, moving a hand to your clit as soon as you give him a breathy, "yeah." It takes one stroke of his thumb on your super-sensitive nub before you come apart, sinking your teeth into his shoulder as the intense climax hits; he hisses in pleasure at the feel of your core rhythmically clenching his thrusting cock, lasting only a few more seconds before he buries himself deep and cums inside you, licking your sweaty neck before sucking hard enough to leave a love bite.

You pant against his shoulder for a few minutes, eventually lifting your head up before quickly dropping it back down. "Damn, I'm dizzy," you mutter, grinning when Joe mumbles "me too" against your neck.

After taking a little more time to come to your senses, you lean back and look at Joe, running a hand over his fade while giving him a grin. "I had a feeling you'd lose the hair before week two."

"Needed a fresh start," he states, returning your grin. "A hard reset."

"Ohhh, 'hard reset' sounds kinda hot," you giggle, hitting a Kegel on his still-softening erection.

His breath catches in his throat and he narrows his eyes at you playfully. "If I knew a haircut was gonna make you go beast mode on me, I would've cut that shit a lot sooner."

"I love the cut, but I was already horny as hell when you got home."

"You need to have naughty dreams about me more often," he teases, "except don't rush me through the pussy-eating part next time."

"Did you feel deprived?"

"A little," he pouts. "You know I love to get you off with my tongue. Plus, it would be nice to be reminded that I'm really good at something since I've clearly forgotten how to throw a damn football."

"Joseph!" you scold, opening your mouth to further admonish him.

"I'm kidding," he chuckles. "Don't get your panties in a wad."

You roll your eyes at him before looking down at your still-joined bodies. "Good thing this chair is leather instead of fabric."

"Why?"

"Because your lethal hotness caused me to unleash a pussy juice tsunami."

"You have a way with words," he laughs. "Let's go get a quick shower," he continues. "I'll clean the chair up later."

Twenty minutes later y'all are lounging on the bed, him flat on his back and you on your side facing him, exchanging small talk while the ceiling fan cools down your naked bodies.

"How did treatment go today?" you ask.

"Fine," he answers vaguely. "And my work-out went good."

You're dying to ask how his calf feels but you hold your tongue, opting instead for something positive. "I'm making your fav dinner tonight."

"Yeah? Which one? You make like a hundred things that are my favs."

"It's a surprise," you tease. "Why don't you try and get a nap while I go get dinner started. I'll wake you up when it's ready."

"Okay," he agrees. "If I can't sleep I'll just watch some film."

"Of course you will," you chuckle, pressing a kiss on his chest before pushing up into a sitting position. You take a deep breath and lock eyes with him. "I need you to promise me something."

"What?"

"If your calf tightens up during the game this Sunday, promise me you'll tell the trainers and team doctor, okay? Let them decide if it's safe for you to keep playing."

"Sure," he says, a little too casually for your liking.

You lean down until your face is inches from his. "Listen, I know you're tough enough to play with pain, but as the leader of this team you have an obligation to do what's best for the franchise. If you go down with a season-ending injury like Aaron's, this team is dead in the water. You owe it to them to be honest about your condition."

"Damn, woman, going for the jugular," he laughs, reaching a hand up to brush your hair off of your face. "How about this … if it tightens up more than normal, I promise I'll say something."

You search his face for several seconds before leaning down to give him a kiss. "Thanks," you breathe against his lips, squealing in surprise when he quickly flips you onto your back and crawls on top of you, careful not to crush you with his entire weight. He lowers his head and nips your earlobe before whispering in your ear.

"I gave you a promise … now what are you gonna give me?" he purrs, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"Ummm, your fav dinner?" you whisper, your pulse rate kicking into overdrive at the look on his face.

"Later." He holds eye contact with you while kissing his way down your body before settling between your spread legs. "I'm gonna have my fav dessert first," he states, giving your clit a vigorous suck before sliding his tongue inside you, his groan of approval tickling your sensitive skin as you bury a hand in his hair and arch up against him.

[metalotaku-da]

So many cross overs so narrow of common hero choices. Let's expand a little.

"Rip what the hell is that?"

"It appears sir, to be a small human child. Around the developmental stage of 4-5"

"Even you know better than to cuss infront of kids.

"I was gone for five minutes."

"Actually I snapped you back to a minute after you left."

"Are You misser booser gol?"

"Yeah kid that's me. You a fan or something who got into something you shouldn't to find me?"

"No. Clockie said tis for you." Hands a sticky note to booster.

Note reads: this is Danny. You will care for him from now on. See this as payment for resetting your time line safely. If you even try pass him off to Bruce wayne/batman, I will ensure your entire familial line never touched time traversing. And you stayed forever trapped in the 31st century. -clockwork master ancient of all time. P.s. there is not conning your way out of this. I will hunt down every ancestor or decendant for all time.

"This looks very serious sir. Congratulations sir you are a father Now"

"Wow kid. Clockie must hate you. I'm so sorry."

"I'm not that bad of an option. Obviously I was judged better that batsy."

"Clockie ass hero I want to say wiff."

"OH kiddo and you asked for the greatest hero boostergold?"

"I wike space. He say geen lanern is space. He take care of me."

"I'm so sorry sir, you have already disappointed your new child. Should I take a commemorative photo of this milestone moment for you?"

"No" "yes skeets"

Camera flashes.

"I shall add this photo to a new album labeled baby book. It is labeled Danny's first disappointment, sir."

"Thank you skeets." X2 one sarcastic one pleased.

"I wan geen lanern."

"Think you're gonna need help anyway Micheal. Call one of them. Not guy."

"I would never co-parent with guy. What kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"Rip takes you as the utmost idiot sir. As does most of the justice league sir."

"Thanks skeets."

"You are most welcome sir."

"Can I pay wif the talking space ship?"

"Sure kid." Pushes skeets into the kids hands.

"I do not believe I am rated for physical interaction by children under 10 sir."

"To bad skeets." Picks up Danny who looks up at him instead of at skeets to smile all teeth. "Holy shit are those fangs? We are going to go see my friend Ted now. He will know what to do."

"He will atleast know not to cuss infront of kids. Don't know about the rest."

"Is ted geen lanern?"

Cue shenanigans. They were roommates, but adopted a child.

"Does Batman know you stole a child from him?" <- Jaime when he visits.

"Do not even joke like that. My existence is at stake."

"Batsy is the new beetle juice. In this house."

"Are You geen lanern?"

"Sorry kid I am blue beetle."

"Should I take a picture for Danny's third disappointment since becoming your child sir?"

"No skeets."

"3rd? How long you had him?"

"A week"

"Ouch. Hey kiddo why do you want to meet green lantern? Aren't these guys just as cool?"

"Considering the average human body temperature is 98.6 degrees I do not believe they qualify as cool sir." Jaime is picking up danny to hold on his hip.

"Clockie says geen lanern is space." Danny smiles.

"Are those fangs? Is this a meta kid? You like space? My scarab is from space. Isn't that just as... Oh My, no scarab!" Scarab starts to go into protect host mode while screaming danger desteoy threat in Jaime head just as Danny's eyes start to glow green at the statement and his mouth splits inhumanly wide with even more teeth. Ted and Michael scramble to grab Danny and move him away from Jaime till he gets control of the scarab again. But Danny has a death grip and won't let go of his new friend.

"I do believe sir that your new child qualifies as a meta. Should I take a picture to commemorate your child's first power demonstration sir?"

[winchesterandpie]

Careful Hands, Precious Cargo

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader

Word Count: 1522

Warnings: highly self-indulgent, very soft Jake, tiny bit of angst, mostly really sweet

A/N: I had this floating around in my head and I had to write it. I just really would like for someone to hold my face, and Jake Seresin will do the trick. I'm so sorry my posting is erratic, we just finished all the orientation stuff for my program and next week is going to be super hectic with the start of classes and lab rotations. I think I have another fic for Bradley ready to go, so I'll probably post it sometime this weekend. Anyways, I really enjoyed writing this fic and I hope you all enjoy reading it!

The first time Jake cupped your face in both hands, your response caught him off guard. 

It was a few weeks after he asked you out, and only a few days after he’d asked you to be his girlfriend. You were both in your kitchen and you had just taken a sip of the hot cocoa you made. He was leaning against the counter across from you, grinning as he dropped marshmallows into his own mug.

“Hey, sweetheart, save me some, will you?” you teased at how many he was getting.

He didn’t hear anything past ‘sweetheart.’ In an instant, he was in front of you, lifting his hands to your cheeks.

Jake may have short-circuited at the nickname, but when thumbs skimmed across your face, it was like you did a hard reset. Your whole body melted, and your head weighed heavy into his touch. He would have been lying if he said it didn’t affect him. Though you hadn’t known each other long, it was a signal of your trust to let him support you.

He kissed you so sweetly that night.

From then on, he kept the trick in his back pocket and even experimented a little. One hand alone never elicited the same response. A tight hug came close, and playing with your hair for long enough came closer still. But nothing quite released you like holding your face between his hands.

Jake used that knowledge to his advantage.

One night, after the two of you moved in together, he came home to find you staring at your computer, your fingers tapping against the keys without typing. He slid his arms around your shoulders from behind. You tipped your head back as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“Hey, sweets,” he greeted you quietly.

“Hey.” He heard it in your voice--how you were trying to sound okay.

A quick glance at the screen of your laptop revealed that you were looking at the task you had told him about yesterday. You had told him you weren’t looking forward to it and that it stressed you out. From the looks of it, you were still trying to start.

“How was work?”

“Eh.” You shrugged.

Jake pressed a kiss to your shoulder before moving to crouch in front of you.

“Darlin’, talk to me.” he offered, waiting just a little longer to pull out his secret weapon.

When you could only shrug again, he struck. Jake’s hands were sliding up to hold your face and after a second or two, everything released. From the outside, it looked like you were curling in on yourself, but he could see how the tension drained from your whole body.

He let you sag against him, happy to take on the burden if it would give you peace.

“That’s it,” he murmured into your ear. “I’ve got you.”

Somewhere amid the low light, Jake’s quiet reassurances, and his hands on your face, your nerves eased. With Jake at your side, you were brave enough to start the task at last. For his praise when you finished, you would have done the dreaded thing several times over. As it was, you only had to do it the one time before you could fall into his arms.

Jake never mentioned it to you, knowing you would get embarrassed. He loved the bashful way you would duck your head and glance between him and the floor, but this? The way you just settled into his hands was unmatched. He couldn’t stand if you started guarding your reaction in embarrassment.

It wasn’t easy to not give away. He found himself regularly fighting the urge to lift his hands to your cheeks. Still, he couldn’t stop himself every time. Jake reached for you as often as he didn’t, but always in private. He wasn’t about to share that part of you with anyone else.

He reached for you again on the beach. You had planned a picnic for him as a surprise. You’d brought all his favorites in a little basket and he was ready to drop down on one knee and propose on the spot, even before he saw that you’d brought slices of rich chocolate cake for dessert.

“You spoil me,” he told you with a twinkle in his blue-green eyes.

“You deserve to be spoiled,” you replied simply.

You were gazing at him with so much love he thought his heart would burst. His hands found your face, bringing your forehead to his as his thumbs brushed back and forth almost instinctively. Your eyes drifted shut how they always did as you relaxed into him.

“I love you.” Jake left a gentle kiss on your lips. You returned it without hesitation, though it only deepened when one hand slipped from the side of your face to your waist. He kept it tender, unwilling to push it further when you were just so pliant in his hands.

When your lungs begged for air, you pulled back just a little to look at him. “I love you too.”

He was so blindingly in love with you that it hurt sometimes. You held his heart as tenderly as he held you. You were the first person he had truly trusted with that cargo, and Jake knew he was in safe hands.

Sometimes, the way the two of you showed that love was more complex. When he left on assignments, you were often worried. He worried about you too. Because of that mutual worry, the two of you could get into arguments before he left.

Today, Jake couldn’t bear to part from you on a sour note.

“Look, I don’t want to fight right now,” he said, his chin dropping as he pushed a hand through his hair. “Come here, please?”

What were you supposed to say to that when you hadn’t really wanted to fight either? His arms opened to you and you went into them easily. He held you tightly to his chest, pressing a kiss to your head.

When you started crying, his hands shifted to your shoulders, pushing you back just far enough to look at you. 

“Darlin’,” Jake said softly, taking your face into his hands.

The tears kept coming, even as you relaxed in his hold. His thumbs brushed back and forth slowly, evenly, soothingly across your cheeks.

“I’m scared, Jake.” The confession fell from your lips, drawn there by his gentle hands. “I know you’re damn good at what you do, and I trust that.” You paused, and he waited for you to continue. “It just scares me that anything could happen to you and I…” When you broke off this time, shaking your head like you couldn’t go on, he spoke up quietly.

“I get scared too,” he admitted to you. “Anything could happen here, not just up in the air. I worry about both of us every time I leave.”

You reached up to hold his face, finding the few tears that slipped from his sea-green eyes. He leaned into your touch and pressed a quick kiss to your palm.

“Really?”

“Really.”

You were both quiet for a moment, tension melting from both of you.

“If I could stay, I would,” he said at last. “I hate leaving you.”

“I know.” You sighed, lettting your head tip forward against his. “And I also know that you love what you do. I want you to have flying, I really do.”

“I know,” he echoed with a small flash of his usually-broad grin. “I’ll be able to call on this assignment.”

“I’ll still miss you, sweetheart.”

Jake stilled only briefly at the nickname, then tipped your chin so your lips met his briefly. “I’ll miss you too, sweets. I always miss you.”

“I’m sorry,” you said after another moment. “I shouldn’t have picked a fight.”

He kissed you again in reassurance. “S’okay. I get it.”

“It’s just easier to let you go when I can convince myself that I’m mad.”

“Why do you think I argue back? I do it too.”

You chuckled weakly, the silent tears finally subsiding. “We make quite the pair, don’t we?”

“Pair of fools.” He laughed too. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He felt your head bob in a nod in his hands, signalling that you were okay, at least for now. “I’ll come back to you. I’ll be home before you know it.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

When he was away from you, he missed everything about you. It caught him off guard when he found he especially missed holding your face in his hands. He missed the way you relaxed, missed how every worry in your eyes eased. 

You felt safe with him, and it made him feel safe too.

So when he came home, he spent almost the entire evening just holding you, holding your face. His heart eased with every second he passed with you. Every pass of his thumb, a heartbeat. Every slow breath that fanned across his skin, a confession. Every moment together, a promise.

You both held precious cargo, and neither of you would let go.

Top Gun Taglist:

@malindacath

[sweetismyaddiction]

SUCROSE

Paring: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: They live in the same building, in the same corridor, just in front of one another… which helps the friendship but couldn't stop Dr. Reid from falling in love

Word account: 1199

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, friends to lovers

A/N: English is not my first language. Reblog, like, and comment. I am accepting suggestions for the next parts (should I already tell about the nicknames?). Please be nice. The Gif is not mine. Credits to the oner

Chapter 1: Derek Morgan, next door

Y/N’s Point of View

The water ran warm against my skin, a relaxing shower was all I needed after one very busy day serving and cleaning, which was not the worst part of the job, the worst part certainly was the clients themselves.

I had a playlist on to help me relax, thank god I had the day off and would go just to the night shift today, so it is a study and cleaning house day. But a noise interfire my peace day. Noises that come from outside.

In the corridor someone knocked on a door calling a name, Spencer’s name… I finished my bath, put on my robe and with my towel dried a little of my hair just taking the exes of the water then brushing it. I came out just in time to see someone kicking down my door and entering my apartment holding a gun.

“What are you doing?”

The man is a black big man, he looks around and then to me still holding his gun pointing it to me.

“Where is Spencer Reid?”

“Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment? Why did you break my door?”

The last sentence was a scream, I can’t believe that a random dude broke my door for no reason. Can’t he see numbers?

“I am SSA Derek Morgan. Now, where is Reid?”

Morgan, the name rings in my ears. Spencer talked about him so many times. Apparently they are friends and coworkers, he can break Spencer’s door, not my door!

“Spencer’s door is the other one.” I point to the one just across the hall. “But relax big man, you do not need to break another door, I have the key, just wait in here and let me put some clothes on. Do not let anyone into my apartment. And put that gun down. Jesus”

Is this a thing? You have to be handsome to join the FBI? After putting a light dress and getting the key I get back to my living room, where that delight for tired eyes wait, he remains stoic, rigid, so tense. Should I be worried?

Knocking soft on the door and calling his name I warne Spencer that me and Morgan are coming in. No response, and the place is immaculate, everything in the right place.

“He must be asleep, he has been very tired those couple weeks. I am going to check his room.”

“By yourself?”

“Yeah. What? There is something I should know? He is contagious? A zombie? No? Ok, so I am totally fine going by myself.”

I walk slowly into his room, it is dark and quiet.

“Sugarpout? Spence?”

A peaceful breathing is heard when closer to the bed, he is involved in his blankets, is the sights of heaven, my heart gets warm seeing Spencer resting peacefully.

I sit at the bed and run my hand delicately in his soft hair before resetting it in his forehead checking his temperature, he moves a little moaning in protest.

“Shh… it's me Sugarpout, it is ok, you can keep sleeping”

Is a very quiet whisper as I place a tender kiss to his forehead leaving my boy there, his hand landing on top of mine making me smile, as quiet as I entered his bedroom is as I live.

Just at the room door, Derek looks at us, I just make a signal to him to keep quiet and we are back to Spencer’s living room.

“So… you seemed troubled. There is something I should know? Is something wrong with Spencer?”

“Why do you have his keys?”

“Cause I live just across the hall?”

Who does he think he is to interrogate me?

“Serious? That 's why? Common, hot stuff, Reid didn't make a move on that gorgeous woman? Man, he really doesn't have material… or does he?”

Flirtatious Morgan, Reid said he was just like that, all charming. Just bark, don’t bite. Well… I don’t think girls would mind if he bites them, I recognize good stuff when I see it.

“Changing subject that quickly? What are you avoiding agent?”

He just looked at me, no verbal answer, heavy shoulders unmatched with the flirt smile on his face… for a profiler he isn't that good in hiding emotions.

“Seriously” a puff of air came out of me. “Is everything okay with him?”

“Yes, Reid is fine. I… was just worried, we had a hard case and he wasn’t answering the phone…”

“I believe you”

“So… why the keys?”

“I live very close, we are friends and I am his food stealer”

 I blinked at the man with a dirty smile in my face mixed with my sweet traces.

“Food stealer?”

“He is out, I need something, I enter his apartment, I grab what I need, and then I come back to my place. Simple”

“Are you confessing a crime to an FBI agent?”

“A crime against another agent. And the other agent is very aware of what I do in his hose”

“Sorry about the door”

“It’s okay, it is nice to know Sugarpout have friend that really care about him”

It is impossible not to smile, I care so much about the genius boy. Knowing other people also care about him warmes my insides, it is really good to know he is well protected in the field.

“Sugarpout?”

My eyes almost fall out of my face. Shit! It is a private nickname.

“Don’t. Do not, ever, ever, talk about it to anyone, It is private, and especial, so please…”

“Okay, a secret. Someday you will tell me?”

“Maybe”

Derek Morgan lives his card with me. He waited about 30 minutes talking to me, but it seemed Spencer wouldn't wake up so soon, so Derek decided to go home, but promised to pay for my door. In my opinion it was the very minimum he could do, but them we have a talk, and his caring by Spencer was more than enough for me to forget about my broken door.

“Sugar?”

“Hey, Sugarpout, did you sleep well?”

I smile going to start to prepare something for him to eat.

“How long have I sleeped?”

“Something around two hours, you needed it. Morgan passed by, and broke my door”

“He what?”

“Broke my door. He was knocking, no one opened, then he kicked in. But surprise, surprise. It was the wrong door.”

“Sorry”

“It is not your fault, and he is going to pay for the repair, he was just worried because you didn’t answer the phone, and the last case was hard. I assume you basically blacked out from exhaustion so I decided to let you sleep.”

The toast is ready as is the coffee, the black coffee with tons of sugar.

“Here you go Sugarpout, you need to eat, and then you should call your people. I am not asking about the case. Just a reminder that you can talk about anything with me anytime, I am just one door away.”

I kiss his head, before going back to my place. I could tell he needed a moment alone to call his friends, especially Derek after what I vaguely told him.

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Here is the first headcanon we are expanding on:

-I think once adopted, Spider is a mama’s boy. He craves physical attention and he has been raised essentially Na’vi in a way that Jake hasn’t. I think he would connect with Neytiri’s parenting style more, I think they’d do a lot of weird shit together that the other kids would rather die than help with, like cooking or mending shit. I think Spider would be literally delighted to help with boring household chores with his mother and that’s so mamas boy of him. He’s a “mother, do you need help with dinner, can I do the dishes so you can sit down?” kid while all the rest of them are gagging and calling him a suck up in the background.

-Spider likes cooking. It's always been something he could help with easily even if he couldn't always eat what was being made. Kiri hates cooking and always has because she hates when her brothers expect her to cook. On Jake and Neytiri's date nights to avoid a fight, Spider would always just offer to help Neteyam.

-Neytiri does most of the cooking for the family. Jake is not a bad cook, he's just not a good cook. He has skills but they are mediocre. She does not mind, because she likes it. It's a chance to personally use Eywa's gifts and transfer them into energy for her family, a way to thank Eywa herself instead of just accepting the bowl from the clan cookfires. It's a calming mental reset every time, and the natural conclusion to every hunting trip.

-None of her children have taken any interest in this particular lifeskill. Kiri, who would sooner let her attention drift and let the cookfire burn the mauri to the ground, doesn't have the attention span for anything other than Eywa. Lo'ak has to be essentially bound and shackled to the cookfire to do any work, and he complains the entire time to the point that Neytiri gets a headache. Neteyam always helps with no complaints, but he obviously does not enjoy it much and it always makes Neytiri feel bad for forcing him because he's the most agreeable. Tuk is too young to be anything other than a nuisance during a task like that.

-So it's comes as a great surprise when, after Neteyam was shot and the demon child rescued, she finds him watching her every move every time she prepares a meal.

-At first she thinks it's because of the boat and the cut on his chest. The knife in her hand as she chops the roots. It's not not that, but it is something more. A curiosity for the direction she stirs a boiling pot, and for the order she adds the spices.

-It had honestly never occurred to Neytiri at all that the child had a personality or interests outside of things mimicked from her children. Insolence and loyalty from Lo'ak, disobedience and morality from Kiri, honesty and stubbornness from Neteyam, even playfulness from Tuk. But none of her kids are at all interested in cooking.

-Spider and Neteyam are both confined to the mauri for recovery, and Neteyam is out like a light by eclipse every night and has to be awoken for evening meal. Spider is silent at Neteyam's side, where he spends most of his time, like Neteyam has to watch him to be sure he's there. She doesn't ask him, just slides over a cutting board and a knife and then passes him a vegetable to cut.

-Neytiri would have to be blind to not notice how perfectly he copies her cuts from before.

-That continues, with Jake and the other kids none the wiser, for a few days, until eventually she puts him in charge of stirring. He has to leave the safety of Neteyam for that, but the lure of the task is too great. He stirs, counterclockwise four times and clockwise twice, just like she always does.

-The next night she tests him. Asks him to get out the ingredients for a certain meal, the one she made the first night she noticed him watching, over a week ago. He doesn't miss a thing. They work shoulder to shoulder, side by side. Every night on, she has him fetch the ingredients unless she shows him something new.

-Tuk is the first to catch them in their silent little game, coming in to see if Neytiri will deem Spider well enough to at least come see the stars, which look particularly clear that night. Neytiri says he can go, and is shocked by how sad he looks for one second before turning to Tuk, like she'd kicked him.

-When she directs him to start the meal the next night he seems surprised, and she realizes he thought the dismissal the night before was a permanent one. So when Tuk comes for him again when he's helping with lunch, she tells Tuk that he's busy. She is not good at reading body language without a tail or ears to judge with, but he turns even pinker than usual and seems to vibrate with energy for the rest of the day.

-Neytiri is fairly sure the entire family knows about the cooking thing, because she's pretty sure Neteyam is not actually asleep at every mealtime still at this point. He's really recovered a lot by now, and she's pretty sure he ratted her out and that's why the mauri becomes essentially off limits to everyone besides her and Spider during every meal prep time. Sometimes she thinks she can hear Kiri and Lo'ak chasing someone off who was trying to come visit.

-Spider and her do not talk for the most part, they just become increasingly in tune with each others movements. Cooking with someone is a hard pairing to match, and Neytiri usually finds it incredibly frustrating, even with Jake sometimes. Spider seems to be able to read her mind, hand her the exact right spice before she even finished the thought about how it was needed, or finishing dicing at the exact moment the vegetables need to be added.

-She finds his personality in tweaks he adds to her recipes, some needed to adjust for his human palate, but always compensated for in an explosion of creativity between them both to find an adequate or even superior substitute. She apologizes in lessons, basics and then the hard stuff, things she should've been teaching him for years. They learn in tandem, each other and the Metkayina cuisine, types of squid and clams and seaweed that add tastes that must be enhanced and balanced with the correct tools, just as a child must be to grow properly.

-She finds herself mourning days alone at the cookfire, or days with one of her other kids who wanted to be anywhere else. Days where he was likely waiting for them outside, interested in what she was doing but not wiling to ask.

-There is no direct apology, not yet. For now it is learning, and building new memories and experiences. His songcord, which she has now seen, is basically a recipe book at this point, Jake says. But so is hers. Songs of slicing meat that provides energy from Eywa, and souls meeting souls for the first time.

[hauntedhokage]

PART 10: Patching Up

WORD COUNT: Thread by thread you're coming to accept that Bakugou really doesn't hate you.

SUMMARY:  1.5k

[series masterlist] | {ao3} | [tumblr masterlist] | {ko-fi} | [spotify playlist]

“We haven’t had a true date night in a while.” 

The comment from Eijirou has you pausing in your apple slicing, and he doesn’t miss the chance to pull a slice from the cutting board to snack on while you’re distracted. “I’m not complaining, though. It’s something Bakugou brought up and wanted to make sure we were okay without that time.”

Of course it was something Bakugou had brought up. But that made you wonder if he was getting that time he needed with his boyfriend as well. Was bringing it up a hint or were you reading too much into it? Probably a yes to the latter, since Bakugou wasn’t the type to tip-toe around a topic when he was talking to Eijirou, but you can’t help but be a bit nervous when the blonde was making observations about your relationship. Things were better, but they still weren’t perfect.

“I hadn’t really thought about it, being honest.” You finally state after a moment of consideration, setting down the knife beside your half sliced apple so you could properly turn to look at your boyfriend. “I feel like we’re still getting that time, are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m not upset about it by any means. I also hadn’t really noticed until he brought it up.”

It was interesting to you that Bakugou would bring it up at all. Not surprising that he’d notice by any means, since the blonde paid attention to everything, but he wouldn’t necessarily comment. Especially where your relationship with Eijirou was concerned. Now you were thinking the worst, and can’t stop yourself from voicing the first thought that came to mind.

“He’s not sick of us being here all the time, is he?”

“No, baby, that’s not it at all.”

“Are you and him getting the time you need? Like, I’m not-”

“You’re not intruding, not taking anything from him. He’s not upset, take a deep breath and relax.” And you do, letting him take your hands in his and holding them to his chest as he takes a deep breath. On the second breath you follow the action, smiling up at your boyfriend as he grins down at you. “Do you wanna go out on a date tonight?”

“Dinner and the arcade?”

“What about the mini golf place?”

“That new one? Nah, let the hype die down first. Last time we went somewhere new people thought I was doing a promo piece on it.”

“We got in for free though,” he reminds, and you roll your eyes as you pull away so you can go back to slicing your apple. “Arcade is good too. Scores on the strength meter reset last week so I gotta reclaim my throne anyway.”

“The only other people who try that thing are like twelve, babe.”

“I'm an inspiration to grow up and get big and strong.”

“More like overly competitive,” you counter, smacking his hand to keep him from taking another apple slice. “If you wanted me to slice an apple for you, you should’ve asked.”

“Is it too late to ask?”

“Considering you already ate half of my apple, yes.” 

You elect to ignore the pathetic whine that leaves him, instead moving what was left of your apple onto the small plate before taking the cutting board to the sink to deal with after you’d finished your snack. You had work to do anyway, he could fend for himself for a couple hours. He doesn’t join you at the kitchen table, instead turning right where you had turned left while saying that he was going to pick out your date night outfit to leave you one less thing to worry about today, and that gives you the moment of freedom from his concerned gaze at how concerned you still were about Bakugou and how the blonde potentially felt about you. 

You hated that you couldn’t just let things happen. He’d told you that he’d never hated you, he’d saved your life, he’d bought you a massive palm that was staring back at you - the palm that only ever brought a smile to your face whenever you looked at it. He was trying and trying so hard, why was it so hard for you to accept that he was okay with you being around? Why was your first instinct to assume that he had a problem whenever he was brought up? That wasn’t fair to him in any way. 

Maybe Bakugou and I need our own date night? You ponder, clicking your pen idly as you consider it. Technically you were going to that community center opening together, but did that count as a date? You didn’t see why it couldn’t, but you also felt that he maybe needed something a bit more private to be comfortable calling it a date. You’d ask Eijirou for his thoughts when he came back from raiding his closet and dresser for a suitable outfit.

“How come you haven’t worn this shirt in a while?” The question comes fifteen minutes later and has you looking up over your laptop to see Eijirou holding up one of your blouses, the black one with the white and orange flowers. The one you’d worn the day you yelled at Bakugou at the news station, the one you’d been staring at every time you saw it neatly folded on the shelf above their washing machine over the last couple of months. The one that reminded you that Bakugou had tried to extend an olive branch and you’d snapped it in two without thinking twice, extending the suffering for the both of you. “It’s one of my favorites and I miss seeing you in it.”

“The button came off,” you explain simply, choosing to leave out the rest of the history that shirt held for the sake of avoiding a conversation about how bad you felt about that day. “I’ve been meaning to take it to the dry cleaner to have them fix it since I can’t but I keep forgetting. The last few weeks have been a bit much.”

“Yeah, fair. Which button was it?”

“The top one. Not really one I use, but I don’t want to lose the button either.”

“You sure you’re not thinking of a different shirt?” He asks, earning a raised brow from you as you lean back in your seat.  “Because the button is attached?”

“No, it was that one because that’s the-” you catch yourself, standing from your chair so you can cross the flat to get to where he’s standing with your shirt in hand. He hands it over easily, concern obvious on his features as he watches you closely inspect the button. “I swear it was this one. This is the shirt I was wearing when I yelled at Bakugou at the station, he had offered to- oh my god.”

“What?”

“He fixed it.” You whisper, looking closely at the threads that held the imitation pearl button in place before comparing it to a button that you knew wasn’t damaged. Sure enough, the threads on the fixed button were brighter than the worn threads of the others - meaning that they were newer. “Katsuki fixed the button.”

It was something that was so small in the grand scheme of things, but in this moment with the history that you had with the blonde it meant everything. He had taken the time to locate your shirt and reattach the button and patch the small tear, even though he had nothing to do with the damage to your shirt. He’d only been there when it happened, that’s all. 

“I’m not good at this shit, but I don’t hate you. Never have.”

He said that to you at the hospital, and you can only laugh to yourself at the fact that he was terrible at this shit. But, clearly, so were you if you’d resigned yourself to never wearing a shirt until you remembered to take it to the dry cleaners when you knew the blonde was capable of fixing it and you just didn’t want to ask. 

“God, I suck,” you whisper, lowering the fabric to see Eijirou watching you with a concerned frown. “I suck so much, Eiji.”

“Not right now, baby. You did then, but how you both were then isn’t how you are now,” he reasons, gently pulling the blouse from you and draping it over his shoulder. “Then, yeah, you both sucked a lot but I think it’s safe to say you’ve both grown out of it and are a lot better now.”

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts, and no more living in the past.” His tone is very final as he gently squeezes your hands, and you can only nod while biting your bottom lip. “Stop worrying, or I’ll kiss that frown off your face.”

“That’s the opposite of a threat, Eijirou,” you tease, finally smiling as he pulls you in for a kiss. “He’s out all night?”

“Yeah, why?” You only look up at him, eyebrow raised as your fingers play with the hair at the base of his neck. “Oh! You don’t want to go out anymore?”

“I’d rather have you kiss the frown off of my face, Eiji.”

[the1975attheirverybest]

Education

Lesson #2: Friends Help Friends Cum.

A/N: this wasn’t supposed to be posted until next week. But , I think in light of the current state of Twitter, we could all use a reset. So, here you go. warnings: smut.

"Wanna get the fuck outta here?" Matty walked straight up to her in the crowded room, drink in one hand, a blunt in the other.

She all but jumped out of her skin. "Holy shi- hello to you, too!" All this time and self-restraint she'd wasted trying to avoid him, not keep her eyes on his every move or watch his every interaction at the party, not think about his hand between her legs the other night, his voice encouraging her, his touch lighting her up, he has ruined it all in 5 seconds.

"Seriously, this party's kinda depressing. Wanna go someplace else?"

"Did you have somewhere in mind?"

Matty shrugged, "not really. could be out on the front steps for all I care. Just- something about being surrounded by all of this" He waved his armed in no specific shape or direction, "it's just- sad."

she nodded. Matty took her by surprise when he grabbed her hand and led her, confidently, through the crowd. She was devastated. She never imagined herself to be such a cliche. The whole "inexperienced, bumbling idiot catches feelings for the bad boy who occasionally sleeps with her" thing is such a tried and tired trope. And, yet, here she finds herself, sweating through her top because he's holding her hand when he didn't necessarily NEED to. She always thought if she were to make a fool of herself over a boy, she’d at least be original about it. But the truth is that her experience is one she shares with all the women in his phone.

***

"I have to say, I never thought I'd see the day that Matty Healy willingly leaves a party early." She took a sip of the drink he'd brought with him, passing the glass back to him. "I mean, we're literally four feet away, on the stairs, but still."

Matty laughed softly, looking up at the sky and considering her words, as if an answer were written in the nights stars. After a moment's pause, he simply shrugged. "Just trying to grow up, I guess."

"That's-"

"Pathetic ?"

"Hot, actually." the words that left her mouth surprised her. She blushed instantly, internally kicking herself for being so careless with her tongue. If Matty was thrown off, he didn't show it.

"I thought you liked my, umm- wait, what did you always used to call it?"

"Sophisticated dickhead act." she reminded him. It sounded more like condemnation.

"Ah, yes! ‘Sophisticated dickhead.’ that's it."

"You pulled it off beautiful, don't get me wrong. But, doing the difficult thing and being a responsible adult, that's...gonna get you so laid."

They both laughed.

"Speaking of getting laid." Matty quirked an eyebrow, looking at her suggestively. "I'm just the right amount of sad, horny, and stoned. Wanna go somewhere?"

"My place."

***

“Lay down for me?” Matty adjusted the pillows on the bed, fluffing them up so they’d be comfortable for her. She blanked for a moment. Focusing a little too much on the “for me.”

“yes- okay.”

“thanks, Darling.”

Oh, she was so in for it. Desperate for a change of topic, she said the first thing that popped into her head. “So, what’d you have in mind for today?”

Matty giggled. “You make it sound so clinical.”

“well, we’re not exactly, making love or anything.” She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Matty hesitated for a moment, his brows curled. “No, I guess we’re not- anyway, I, umm, was going to ask you if you like getting head?”

Now, that, was a swift transition. “I- uhh- sorry, what?”

“do you like it when guys go down on you?” He asked, bluntly, yet again.

“I, uhhh. No. Sorry.” She squirmed away in embarrassment. “No, don’t apologize! I’m glad I asked first!”

unprompted, she began to offer up all sorts of explanations. “It’s always boring. Either doesn’t feel pleasurable at all, or feels kinda gross like they’re drooling on me or something. And then there’s that weird feeling of guilt. Like- like, they’re at least trying so I have to be nice about it. I can’t tell them to stop, can I? So- umm…I just end up faking it to get them to quit.”

“Oh, I see.”

“what?” She could see a look on his face that she wasn’t able to read. “Nothing, nothing.”

“Matty, tell me!”

“It- well, it just sounds like these guys didn’t know what they were doing. And- I mean, if we were to do it, I would never make you have to fake it.”

“oh, really? Is that so?” She smiled, mildly intrigued by the idea. “yeah, I mean- this is, like, the wankiest shit I’ve ever said- I don’t mean to mansplain the female orgasm to you- I just- I’ve had great reviews is what I’m saying. But, I don’t wanna push it. If you say you don’t like it, then you don’t like it. We’ll just do something else-“

“no, no. Hold on a minute. I wanna try.”

“you do?”

“yeah, I mean, that’s the point of this-“ she stuttered for a moment, “this sex education course…”

“Is that what we’re calling it, then?” Matty chuckled, making her wonder if he meant anything by this question. Did he want it to be what they’re doing? Did he not? “Alright, let’s give it a try. But if you feel uncomfortable or change your mind at any moment, you let me know and we’ll stop, okay?”

she smiled, nodding. “if you’re too overwhelmed to speak in the moment, just squeeze my hand three times and I’ll stop. Okay? That’ll be our signal.”

*** She couldn’t deny it. Matty was right. He knew exactly what he was doing. Of course, as she’d suspected, it was all in the foreplay. The way he’d delicately touched her, whispered into her ear every single obscene thought that he looked forward to “showing” her and “teaching” her. The way his hands grazed past her nipples, ran down her legs. Hover over her thighs. She was already wet before his tongue had even touched her. “Relax, darling. Don’t worry about a thing, yeah? No pressure.” There was that ‘darling’ again. At long last, he dipped his head between her thighs, licking into her. She gasped, her body raising slightly, before Matty’s firm grip over her waist kept her in place. Something about his strong arm pinning her down so effortlessly stirred desire within her, so when she felt his mouth at work again, she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. “Holy shit! Matty- I- ahh”

Soon, she’d abandoned the idea of remaining quiet. She was begging and moaning for him. Matty pulled away from her with an obscene slurping sound. “How’re we doing, honey? Still feeling good? Havin fun?”

she appreciated the check in but she also desperately wanted him to shut the fuck up and get back to eating her out.

“Yes, yes, yes. Fine. Fun. Just please-“ her hand reached for his hair, shoving him back down. She imagined that he was smiling. *** ”hey, you look…all blissed out. So it wasn’t fake then?” Matty grinned down at her as she struggled to catch a breath after her orgasm. “Absolutely not.”

“good to know.” He winked. “Okay, now your turn.” She sat up on her elbows, looking at him with anticipation.

“what?” He laughed nervously. “you scratch my back; I scratch yours. Drop your jeans, Healy. Let’s go.”

“we don’t have to do that right now, you know. It’s not a transaction. That’s not the point-“

“I want to. Please? C’mon. Unless you’re not in the mood, then-“

“For you? Im always in the mood.”

*** “Fuckin hell, baby. So good for- just relax your jaw- open up a bit more, that’s it.” Matty mumbled something under his breath, his head tipped backwards, his eyes clothes. “Fuckin perfecttt.”

She felt her breathing flatten, fighting the urge to move her mouth, she kept going, even attempting, at one point, to surprise him and take more of him into her mouth. Unfortunately, her eagerness was not reflected in her gag reflex.

Matty’s eyes shot open, looking down at her. “You alright? Gosh, why did you do that for. I didn’t say you needed to!”

“sorry, sorry, I’m fine! I just thought- I don’t know what I thought.” She look downwards, still heaving and coughing, and now embarrassed. Matty reached over and wiped at the drool with the back of his hand. “Good students follow instructions. Just do as I say, will you?”

she nodded. “You wanna keep going?”

“yeah” as soon as she opened her mouth back up, she realized that she did, not, in fact want to keep going. She reached for his hand and squeezed it three times, instantly getting his attention. “what? What is it, baby?”

“jaw is tired. Don’t wanna do this anymore.”

He pulled away immediately. “Alright. That okay. Thanks for telling me.”

***

“so, how’s that jaw?”

she rolled her eyes. “It’s fine, Matty! Just like the last five times you asked.”

“And your knees?” His arms squeezed her closer to his side. “my knees never hurt in the first place. Cuz you set down a pillow and all.”

“okay. Just makin sure.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. Your dick is not that powerful. You ah end broken me.”

Matty chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, let’s go to sleep then.” He turned his back towards her for a moment, to turn out the bedside lamp. “Hey, what are we?” He asked, flicking the switch off. The darkness hid her shocked and confused expression. “What?”

“I mean, I know I’m showing you all these things…but, I guess I never know if that’s all it is?”

“w-what do you mean?” Her heart drummed with anticipation. He feels it, too. He thinks about it, too. It’s not all in her head. “I mean, I never know where the boundaries are…like, am I allowed to kiss you? Like when we greet each other and stuff?” He paused for a moment. “Nah, that would get too confusing, wouldn’t it? Guess I just answered my own question, didn’t I? We’re friends. Friends don’t kiss. Yeah?”

“y- umm- right. Yeah. Friends don’t kiss.”

“okay. Glad we cleared that up. Goodnight.” he rolled over on his side, eventually falling asleep. Leaving her wide awake right by his side.

[callmelinamfsnow]

“How Old Are You?”

Ch. 2: Four Days Later Ch. 3: The Beginning of The Date

Warnings: Spoilers for TUA S3

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,243 (give or take)

a/n: This is a rough draft of a fic I thought of the other day. I wanted to post it and get some hype for when I fully finish it. Also the ending of S3 was bullshit.

“Hey”

Five looked up from his coffee to the girl who had just slid her upper body to rest onto the counter, hair falling as she looked up at him. “Hello” was all Five said but straightened his composure and gave her a smile.

The universe has just been reset. His problems had been solved. He wasn’t about to start off one of his first interactions by being an asshole.

“How old are you?” She asked, squinting her eyes at him a bit as if she could figure it out if she scanned his face more.

Here we go.

“Why do you care?” He replied after a sigh.

“Kind of need to know your age before I can tell you” she continued, sitting up a bit. “Are you at least over 18?”

He paused for a second and thought, while taking her appearance in. She was wearing a simple ripped black jeans, white tank top, and jeans jacket but he was intrigued.

He’d noticed his body had seemed to start aging a bit more over the past three weeks. One of the only positive things to keep him going. It seemed he was at about 18 and he wasn’t about to claim to be younger.

“Yes. I am”

“Great.” She smiled and pushed some of her hair behind her ear. “Well now I won’t be embarrassed that I tried to flirt with an underaged kid”

He perked up at that.

“Go on” he smiled and turned himself in the stool to face her. A small smile trying to spill out as he took another sip of coffee. “Not sure what more I have to say. I notice you in your cute suit when you came in and thought you were interesting, but couldn’t figure out if you were of age.” She explained after giving a shrug. Then leaned in closer to him and continued in a low voice, “my friend bet me $10 and the bill if you were older so I’m feeling pretty lucky”

He chuckled at that which caused her to smile a bit. “Well congratulations” he smiled and patted her hand, leaving his nearby when he placed it back on the counter. He was enjoying his first somewhat romantic interaction with a real woman in a while, and he wasn’t going to let her think otherwise. “Does your friend know about your flirtatious plans with me?” Five asked, quickly noticing the simple hoops and necklace she wore.

“Well me saying you seemed cute was what struck up the conversation, and while they did tease me about doing it they aren’t fully aware of it, no” she answered, keeping eye contact that made something in the pit of his stomach churn. She was very attractive, and admittedly looked nothing like Dolores which was new. “Is that because you were afraid of the possibility you’d be flirting with a high schooler?” Five asked as he finished his coffee. She laughed at that and shook her head a bit before replying, “Yes. Would not like to have that moment drawn out anymore that needed to”

“(Y/N) we need to go soon. Who’s paying?” Someone called over from a table causing the woman infront of Five to look over. He couldn’t help but look her over a bit better before he looked at the table. “You are” she smiled back, watching the friend roll their eyes and groan in defeat as the waitress approached with the bill. “Well, looks like I’m going to have to be going soon” she said as she turned to Five, “are you seeing anyone?”

“Not at all” he smiled

“Mind if I give you my number?”

“I’d love nothing more”

“Great” she bit her lip and grabbed a piece of paper and pen from her pocket. Five watched her write her number and what looked like a small note on it, chuckling when he leaned over to get a look and she moved her body to cover it up.

“Is that going to be it for you?” The waitress asked, pointing to Fives coffee. “Oh, uh, yes thank you” he nodded and pushed it closer to her. It then hit Five that he had no way of paying for it, and the waitress seemed to know it as she walked off eyeing him.

“What’s wrong?” (Y/N) asked, folding up the paper. “Just realized I have no money to pay for this” he sighed quietly, watching out for an employee. “How much is your tab?” “Just this coffee. Probably five dollars with a little tip. Maybe I can find some…” he mumbled the end to himself as he looked around. The sound of (Y/N) rummaging through her pockets followed by her smacking something onto the counter rang through his ears, the latter startling him a bit. “Here. On me” she smiled and slid a $5 bill to him. “You just helped me win a free meal and $10 so I guess it’s the least I could do” she teased at the end, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Thank you (Y/N)” Five hummed, his eyes focusing on her smile for a second until he noticed her bite her lip. He felt another churn in his stomach and met her eyes again, receiving a cocked eyebrow from her. “I’ll pay you back” he added and before she could say it was fine he continued “on our first date”. He let out a cocky smile when she notice her blush lightly and bite her lip again as a small smile spilled from them. “Well alright then…” she trailed off, suddenly realizing she hadn’t gotten his name yet and Five froze for a second. This was a new universe apparently and he could start over. Maybe a new name that drew less questions, but he hadn’t exactly had time to think of a new one.

“I’m Five” he said holding his hand out for her to shake. Her eyebrows creased in confusion and her head tilted to the side a bit as her hand went to shake his. “That’s a cool and different name” she nodded, going silent when Five took her hand and kissed her knuckles gently. “Well aren’t you cute” she hummed teasingly causing Five to chuckle. “Why thank you, you’re quite beautiful yourself” he offered back and gently let her hand go.

“(Y/N)! We got to go” her friend called from the table again. “Okay I’m coming” she said slightly annoyed as she glanced back at them. “Guess I should let you go before your friends get upset with you” Five took the piece of paper and put it in his pocket for when he’s be able to get a phone to call her with. “Yeah” (Y/N) sighed, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. Five took the $5 bill and slid it to her waitress, mumbling a “keep the change”. “Well good bye (Y/N).” He smiled, taking her hand and kissing it again. “Bye Five. Looking forward to hearing from you” she smiled.

Giving each other a quick nod she turned and walked back to her friends. Five watching her the whole time, catching her every time she would glance over. Then right before the group exited she gave him a wave which he returned and then watched her disappear into the night.

Fuck he needed to get a phone, and fast.

[leafofkudzu]

It’s that time of month again! You are hereby invited to [VS] Verdant Shield’s fourth monthly community art party, happening on both EU and NA servers!

Since the party has been moving West-to-East across the map the next theoretical spot would have been Lion’s Arch, but due to various concerns it was put to a vote last week instead. Well, the results are in, and we will be skipping LA and moving to the next location instead - Hoelbrak!

For those who aren’t familiar with what an art party is, they’re an idea carried over from Final Fantasy XIV, and are essentially get-togethers for artists/creatives of all kinds to hang out, chat, and create together! Dress your best, find another character that inspires you, and create! Afterwards, you can share your creations using the party-specific tag (ours is #VSArtParty) so others can see and spread the love via reblogs! And as I always always stress - the ‘goal’ of an art party is not to be drawn, but to draw others, and share with the community!

Check under the cut for more details about location and /squadjoin information (I’ll keep it short this time I promise)!

Location Details:

The Hunter’s Hearth is a pretty self-explanatory location, but just in case you’re unfamiliar: it’s the norn home instance, located one level above the main floor of the Great Lodge. Though it is possible to get up there via weird base game shenanigans, the easiest way would be either via a vertical-friendly mount like a springer/skyscale, or via teleport-to-friend. Technically the entire area up there is open, but I personally feel like the little area in the southwest corner with the paintings is the cutest and nicest lit, shown here:

Time & Squad Details:

As with previous months, we’ll be having 2 parties - one for EU and one for NA - with an hour break in between. I think EU daylight savings time will have already sorted itself out by the day, but just in case let it be known that I’m over in NA on Eastern time and you guys are a few weeks behind us with your time changes, so if I’m a bit confused about how it translates I apologize. x.x

The first party will be on EU servers and begin at 9pm Central European Summer Time (aka 3pm Eastern Daylight Time or 5 hours before in-game reset). I’ll be hosting on my EU alt account, so to join please either /squadjoin or whisper Runa Gravemourn for an invite.

The second party will be on NA servers and begin at 7pm Eastern Daylight Time (aka 1am Central European Summer Time or 1 hour before in-game reset). I’ll be on my main account for this one, so to join either /squadjoin or whisper Freja Owlsong for an invite. This one tends to be significantly more populated, so I ask that if you join and the squad is at or above 40 people to please consider dropping squad after you taxi in to make sure there’s enough space for others, thanks!

Closing Words:

We’re rapidly approaching the fifth and last racial home city, which means that soon I’ll start putting locations to a vote 2 weeks before each party! If you have ideas for no-combat areas that are preferably F2P/low-level friendly, feel free to shoot me an ask and I’ll scope them out for consideration when the time comes!

Aaaaand that’s all I have to say for now! I wanted to get this post made yesterday but was afflicted with the tired sleepy, so y’know. Thanks to everyone who comes out to these and helps make them such memorable experiences, I’m so excited to see everyone again on Saturday! ♥

[tigertales9]

Hard Reset VII

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut / Fluff

Description: This fic covers the bye week secret wedding night.

Time/Place: Tuesday, Oct. 17, 2023 / the lakehouse

A/N: This is the seventh fic in the Hard Reset series.

That last chapter was long as hell, y'all, so I decided to break the next few bits up into smaller pieces. I have a few more things I'm working on for the bye week honeymoon, so I'll try to get those up in the next week or so. After that, we'll see where it goes. Things might slow down a bit b/c of the holidays, but I'll pick it back up eventually.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Surprise!" Joe hollers as he carries you over the threshold. "There's hardly any furniture!" You laugh along with him as he sets you down. "The Thompsons cleared out most of their stuff after the sale went through," he continues. "But they left a lot of stuff here -- that huge, flatscreen TV above the fireplace, a few lamps, cookware, dishes, glasses, towels, a bunch of candles, stuff like that." He shrugs. "They said to just donate what we don't want."

"That was nice of them," you smile, turning in a circle as you take in your surroundings, your gaze landing on two large flower arrangements sitting on the coffee table. "Wow!" you chirp, walking over to bury your nose in the velvety red roses. "These are gorgeous," you sigh, giving Joe a smile as you admire the floral display.

"Five dozen roses," he states. "One dozen for every year we've been together." He returns your smile before continuing. "The local florist said she didn't have a vase big enough to do one huge arrangement, so I said two would be fine."

"They're perfect," you whisper, taking another sniff as he digs his phone out of his pocket.

"I need to text Max real quick to let him know we got here and everything looks great."

You watch as he sends the text before setting his phone on the coffee table. "So Max the caretaker actually exists?" you tease. "I'm not sure what the truth is."

"Yeah," he murmurs, giving you a sheepish look before continuing. "The truth is that I lied through my teeth about driving out here just to move the bed under the skylight. I'd already bought the house at that point but didn't want to tell you and ruin the surprise. That night, when you thought I was cheating, I actually met Max and a crew of furniture delivery guys who delivered our outdoor furniture plus our bed, bedside tables, sofa and coffee table."

You raise an eyebrow and look closer at the coffee table and sofa. "Yep, they look familiar," you nod.

"They're the same ones we have at home," he explains, "except I went with a deep teal blue leather for the sofa instead of the black leather we have at home. If you don't like it we can …"

"I love it," you interject, pointing at your teal sweater. "Teal is one of my fav colors, and it's a perfect color for a lakehouse."

"Okay, good," he plows ahead, gesturing around the vast room. "I only picked out a few things because I want you to pick out everything else -- the remainder of the living room furniture, dining room furniture, bedroom furniture, barstools, breakfast nook, guest rooms, sunroom, bathrooms, and whatever other rooms I'm forgetting."

You give him a smile as he continues, his nervous energy on full display.

"You'll prob want to redo the kitchen countertops," he states, walking toward the kitchen as you follow behind. "Maybe something like that quartz you picked out for your parents' lakehouse when they re-did their kitchen last year?"

"Sounds good," you murmur, pulling him into a tight hug. "I think you need to relax," you suggest, pressing kisses against his neck until he pulls back. "Not yet," he mumbles, dropping a kiss on your lips before heading for the side door. "I need to pull the car into the garage and bring everything inside."

"Let me help."

"I got it," he states. "I'll bring in the groceries first, and you can put those away while I get everything else."

"Okay," you agree, shaking your head as he disappears out the door to the garage. "He's nervous as fuck," you mutter, spinning around to head out on the back deck, bringing in the champagne, glasses, cooler and tote bag (with the deed inside) just in time to see him come in carrying a few grocery bags; he drops them on the kitchen island before heading back out.

You heave a sigh as you drop your haul on the kitchen island and ignore the bags of groceries, knowing there's nothing that needs to be refrigerated. You top off the champagne glasses and give him a smile as he breezes back in carrying two boxes and two duffle bags. "What's in the boxes?" you ask, taking a sip of bubbly while handing him his glass.

"Just a comforter, shams and several faux fur throws plus a few other things. The sheets are in that duffle bag," he continues, pointing at a bag as you give him a smile.

"I know. I caught you cramming them in there, remember?"

"Yeah," he grins, taking a sip of champagne. "Not my shiestiest moment."

"Come here," you coax, reaching for his hand. "I have something to show you." You lead him back to the living room and point at the sofa. "Sit," you order, grabbing something out of your purse before sitting next to him.

"Do you want a full tour of the house?" he asks.

"Later."

"Should we put the sheets and stuff on the bed?"

"Later," you repeat, giving him a smile while patting the black leather book on your lap. "Let's look at this first."

"What is it?" he asks, taking a sip of bubbly as you scoot closer and open the book.

"Okay, don't laugh, 'cause the title is kinda cheesy," you admit, giving him a sheepish grin. "But I know how much you like real books, so I thought you might like this."

He looks at the first page and reads the title. "The Story of Us - Volume One."

"It's a little cheesy," you reiterate, "but every other basic ass was using it so I stole it," you giggle.

"I like it," he admits, smiling as you turn the page. "Ohhh, it's a picture book," he whispers, taking a huge gulp of his champagne. "So much cooler than a photo album," he mutters as he leans in close to study the first pic. "What's this?" he asks.

"It's the night we had our first kiss," you answer, your mind rewinding back to that moment in time.

~ ~ ~

You and Joe -- on your third date -- were sitting on the sofa in your apartment watching a movie when your roommate came home slightly tipsy.

"Y'all are the cutest couple!" she chirped, snapping a quick pic before heading to her bedroom. "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone," she teased, giving you a knowing look before disappearing.

The tension between you and Joe had been crazy already, but it got even worse once she dropped the "lovebirds" line.

~ ~ ~

"Oh my God, I was nervous as hell that night," Joe reminisces with a smile. "I literally don't remember what movie we were watching because I spent the entire time trying to decide if I should make a move on you. I was super close to working up the courage to put my arm around you when Gina busted in."

You return his smile. "And you quickly scooted a foot away from me like we just got caught doing something naughty." Y'all laugh at the memory, shaking your heads as you look fondly at the pic -- you and Joe with a solid foot of sofa cushion between you, both looking slightly guilty.

"I was so fucking awkward," he groans.

"But you more than made up for it later that night," you soothe.

"I tried to convince myself it was like a game situation," he shrugs. "Like, when I was leaving, I was giving myself a mental pep talk to go in for a goodnight kiss as I followed you down the hall to your front door."

"What was your mental pep talk?"

"Two minute drill type of vibe," he grins. "Don't overthink it, just make a quick read and react."

"Your read was accurate, as usual, and the kiss was amazing."

"Yep," he grins. "To quote Judge Sheila - 'That kiss was a doozy!"

"It really was," you agree. "First kisses are supposed to be awkward, but that one was anything but."

"Our chemistry has always been crazy. That first kiss solidified something I'd already been thinking."

"Which was?"

He gives you a naughty wink before answering. "That you were going to absolutely blow my mind in bed."

"And did I?" you tease.

"You know you did, and you've been doing it ever since."

"You definitely do your share of mind blowing," you purr, giving him a quick kiss before turning to the next page.

Y'all continue to sip champagne and peruse the photos, laughing at the memories they evoke. There are pics of y'all on the LSU campus, at parties and after football games. Joe points at a pic of himself in his football uniform, sweaty as hell and exuding big dick energy after yet another victory. He has one arm wrapped tight around you, pulling you close while smiling down into your upturned face. "I'm sweating all over you," he states. "And I'm loving it," you groan, a thought flashing into your mind of the two of you entwined on the bed in his apartment, naked and sweaty from a different kind of exertion. Sex with Joe is always hot, but post-game victory sex is on another level.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, the look on his face telling you he already knows the answer. "You know exactly what I'm thinking about," you grin as you turn the page.

The next several pages feature Bengals football games and parties followed by plenty of casual, holiday and vacation pics both just the two of you and with family and friends.

He groans as you point at a pic of y'all dancing at your parents' anniversary party a couple years back. "You looked so handsome that night," you sigh. "Too bad I can't dance for shit," he grumps. "I love the way you dance," you soothe, nudging his shoulder. "Maybe we can dance later?" you continue. "Maybe," he grumbles, quickly turning to the last page in the book.

You laugh at the pic of him from a few years back -- wearing nothing but wet swim trunks and a disgruntled expression -- sitting on the dock at your parents' lakehouse. "This is when you thought a fish nibbled on your toes. I've never seen anybody haul ass out of the lake as fast as you did."

He cuts his eyes at you as you giggle at the memory. "I'm glad you think it's funny that a fish tried to bite my toes off," he mutters, his playful smile at odds with his grumpy tone.

"Your toes are very nibble-worthy," you tease. "Can't blame the fish for trying."

"And you can't blame me for wearing aqua socks in the lake for the rest of my life." Y'all laugh together for a minute before he takes a deep breath and continues. "That's also one of the main reasons we're gonna have a swimming pool put in here. I love to swim without socks, but I need to see what's in the damn water."

"I think a pool would be awesome," you agree. "We have plenty of room for a nice one."

"Yep, I'm thinking a free-form resort style with a sun shelf, a hot tub, a sunken fire pit area, and a swim-up bar."

You raise your eyebrows. "You're a grotto shy of going full Hugh Hefner," you grin, giggling when he gives you a look. "I'm kidding," you soothe. "It sounds amazing."

"I have some pics I'll show you later," he chuckles. "Just a few ideas to think about. I promise my vision is more classy than porny."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Speaking of pics," he says, gesturing at his phone on the coffee table. "That sunset pic we just took is def going in The Story of Us - Volume Two. Plus at least a couple of the pics Judge Sheila took after our secret wedding ceremony."

"For sure," you agree, clinking your glass against his and draining the remaining bubbly.

Twenty minutes later -- after a super quick house tour ending in the expansive master suite on the third floor -- y'all have just finished making your bed in the teal blue sheets, pillow cases and comforter + shams Joe picked out.

"It looks great," you smile, your eyes going wide when he hurries out the door.

"Forgot the candles," he hollers over his shoulder, reappearing a couple minutes later with an armful of candles. You watch as he places three candles on each bedside table and lights them.

"Super romantic," you purr, approaching him with a little swagger in your step. "I have some naughty lingerie I can change into," you offer.

He raises an eyebrow at your dirty grin, considering your offer for several seconds before responding. "I can't wait to see it, but can we do that tomorrow night? Tonight I want you just like this." He leans down and drops a kiss on your lips before hesitating. "Hold on a sec," he whispers, walking to a bedside table and fumbling around for a bit before the sultry sound of smooth jazz fills the air.

He walks back toward you, a shy look on his face. "You wanna dance?" he asks. "I'd love to," you smile, stepping into his embrace, your hands resting on his shoulders as you nestle your cheek against his chest. His hands settle on your hips as y'all sway to the music, the sound of his strong heartbeat throbbing against your ear setting off an answering throb deep inside you.

After a couple songs, one of his hands slides under your sweater and nestles against the small of your back, pulling you closer, the skin-to-skin contact feeling exquisitely intimate as he nuzzles his face in your hair and takes a deep breath. "You always smell so good," he whispers, "everywhere," he continues, smiling when you tilt your head to look up at him. "You too," you breathe, the look on his face causing your pulse to react in anticipation.

He licks his lips before continuing. "I thought you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen when I first laid eyes on you." He drops a kiss on your lips. "But you're even more beautiful now," he states, capturing your lips in a slow-burn kiss, slowly licking into your mouth like he's tasting you for the first time. You lean into him and open wide for his tongue, moaning into his mouth just before he abruptly pulls back.

"Why am I so fucking nervous?" he groans, burying his face against your neck.

"I'm nervous, too," you soothe.

"Are you also hot as hell?" he asks. "Like literally about to combust?"

"Yeah," you croak. "Maybe we should crack open a window."

He hurries to do your bidding before returning to you, a worried look on his face. "We've been having amazing sex for five years, but I'm freaking out on our wedding night. Why?" he rasps, the look on his face solidifying your decision to tell him the truth.

"I think I know why you're so nervous."

"Why?" he repeats.

"Football isn't going exactly as you want right now because of your calf injury, so you put a lot of pressure on yourself to make the secret wedding and wedding night as perfect as possible. It's something you have complete control over, unlike football, but the need for perfection is messing with your head and making you nervous."

He stares at you for several seconds before taking a deep breath. "Shit," he mumbles, running a hand through his hair while giving you a sheepish smile. "You always talk about me being able to read you, but you can read me just as easily. Sorry I'm being so weird and awkward about this."

"You're not being weird and awkward," you soothe. "You wanted everything to be perfect and it has been, okay? It's been like a dream for me. I'll never forget it as long as I live. -- But I think it's time for me to call an audible."

He studies your expression for a bit before speaking. "What's the call?"

"I want you to get undressed and lie face down on the bed so I can give you a massage."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," you state, reaching to unbutton his jeans. "Let me help you relax and take the edge off."

His demeanor shifts as soon as those words leave your mouth; he knows exactly what you mean, and a small smile graces his sensual lips as he strips naked before kneeling at your feet. Your breath catches in your throat as he unzips your knee boots; you place your hands on his broad shoulders to steady yourself as he removes your boots and socks before slowly peeling your leggings off. He stands back up and unties your wrap sweater, easing it off of you and dropping it on top of the pile of mingled clothes.

When he's done, you're left in nothing but seafoam green bra and panties, your pulse reacting to the look in his eyes as he leans down and gives you a lingering kiss before crawling onto the bed face down like you ordered.

You take a deep breath before joining him on the bed, straddling his waist and leaning forward to dig your fingers into his tense shoulders as he moans his appreciation. You take your time massaging him, relishing his grunts and groans and mumbled praise as you hit all the right spots that need attention.

Once you've thoroughly worked him head to toe you ask him to roll over, your eyes immediately drawn to his erection as he does your bidding. "Spread your legs," you urge, crawling between his thighs when he follows orders. "Fast or slow?" you continue, licking your lips as you anticipate the taste of him on your tongue.

"Gonna have to be fast," he admits. "I'm halfway there already."

"Yes, sir," you breathe, lowering your head to get down to business.

"Wait," he mutters just before you make contact. You let your lips hover an inch above his shaft while flicking your gaze up to his. "Take your bra off for me," he orders, his eyes glued to you as you sit up and slowly unclasp your bra before letting it slide down your arms; you toss it on the pile of clothes as you raise an inquisitive eyebrow at him. "Anything else?" you ask, cupping your breasts and bouncing them a few times before rubbing your already-hard nipples, biting your lip when his cock twitches at the sensual display. "No," he croaks, swallowing hard as you continue to tease your sensitive peaks. "Jesus, baby, you better hurry or I'm gonna cum before you even touch me."

"That sounds hot, but I wanna taste you." You grip his cock at the base and run your hand up the long, hard length of him, a gush of saliva flooding your mouth at the sight of the precum adorning his tip; you lower your head and lick him clean before taking him in your mouth, working him fast and deep while he buries his hands in your hair and bucks his hips up; he explodes in your mouth after just a few minutes, his groans of pleasure going straight to your core as you swallow everything he has to offer.

You eventually crawl up and cuddle him, kissing his neck and stroking his chest as he comes down from the intense climax.

After a few more minutes he drops a kiss on your forehead and points at the skylight. "The clouds are obscuring the stars right now," he states, "but when it's clear, we'll be able to see the Big Dipper."

You giggle before speaking up. "You know I'm gonna make a Big Dipper joke about your dick, right?"

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

"Well, no matter if it's cloudy or not, I expect to see the Big Dipper every time I sleep in this bed with you," you purr.

"Damn right," he chuckles, giving you another forehead kiss before sitting up and scooting down the bed.

You watch closely as he slides your panties off and tosses them aside, crawling between your legs and spreading them wide as he moves back up your body, stopping to press kisses on either side of your aching core before continuing upward; he eventually nuzzles his face into your neck, his soft scruff tickling you as he drops kisses against your sensitive skin before pressing his lips against your ear. "Fast or slow?" he asks, nipping your earlobe hard enough to elicit a gasp from you before you answer.

"Fast," you whine. "I'm really close."

"Mmmm," he hums, kissing his way down to your breasts, teasing your nipples for several minutes while you squirm beneath him. "Please," you moan, burying your hands in his hair, fighting the urge to shove his head down where you want it as he takes his sweet time pleasuring you. "I said fast," you remind him, your arousal leveling up as he gives you a feral grin before kissing his way down your torso, stopping to rim your belly button before dropping wet kisses in a line all the way down to about an inch above your aching clit.

You hold your breath waiting for the feel of his hot tongue right where you need it, your hips grinding restlessly as the throbbing in your core escalates. "Please, baby!" you beg, making a sound between a whimper and a scream when he finally licks a stripe up your drenched folds before latching onto your swollen clit, rhythmically sucking you in a way he knows you love, making a sound of primal satisfaction low in his throat as you lose control, your hands in his hair and his name on your lips as you come apart.

"Got damn, you're good at that," you eventually rasp, after taking a few minutes to catch your breath.

"Did you like that?" he purrs, licking his slick lips while watching you closely.

"A little bit, yeah," you pant, chill bumps rising on your entire body at the hot look in his eyes.

"Good, 'cause I'm about to do it again," he states. "But I'm gonna do it slow this time, okay?"

"Okay," you whisper, biting your lip when he lowers his head and gently tickles your clit with his scruff before parting your soaked folds with his tongue.

~ ~ ~

The next few hours pass by like a fever dream, with Joe pleasuring you and you pleasuring him in every way imaginable -- from soft, sensual lovemaking to sheet-clawing, hair-pulling, filthy sex.

At some point you flutter your eyes open and realize the clouds have parted to reveal a canopy of stars in the skylight, and a sudden thought hits you, that there's no place in the world you'd rather be than right here in this lakehouse love nest with your man -- your husband -- taking his time pleasuring you, his talented mouth on your neck, your breasts and between your thighs, his thick shaft moving inside you as he whispers sweet and filthy praise to you, your bare skin bathed in starlight and his big, warm body a delicious contrast to the cool breeze wafting in from the open window.

Absolute bliss, you think as you arch up into his next thrust and sink your teeth into his muscular shoulder.

~ ~ ~

A few hours later you come awake slowly, not sure what woke you up.

"Sorry," Joe whispers, sliding back in bed beside you. "I forgot to shut the window earlier, and it's getting a little chilly."

"Mmmm," you hum, snuggling against him as he pulls you close and nestles the covers around you.

"The clouds are gone," he murmurs, kissing your temple as you both gaze up at the stars.

"It's beautiful," you whisper, your breath catching in your throat as a flash of light blazes across the sky. "What was that?" you ask.

"Umm, either a shooting star or a UFO," Joe answers. "Airplanes don't move that fast."

"Should we make a wish?" you ask sleepily.

"Yes," he answers.

You're just on the verge of sleep a few minutes later when his voice pulls you back. "What did you wish for?"

"Nothing," you murmur. "I already have everything I want."

His breath catching in his throat makes you raise your head to make eye contact with him. "What did you wish for?" you ask, the look on his face bringing you completely awake.

"I wished for a lifetime of moments like this," he whispers. "There's no place in the world I'd rather be than right here with you," he continues, capturing your lips before you can tell him you had that exact same thought earlier.

Telepathic, you think to yourself, vowing to tell him as soon as you can but content for the moment to lose yourself in his embrace.

[dreamyzhou]

Spell - Kim Sunwoo

Pairing: sunwoo x romantically brave!fem reader

Genre: non idol au! college au! a mixture of angst, fluff, and crack

Words: 2,255

Warnings: kissing, slow pace, sunwoo is scared of love, feat. the boyz and xg as side characters, ALSO this is my first fic after 4 years of hiatus, so it is horrible but go easy on me.

Inspired by: NIKI - Spell

For someone who feared the uncertainty of her future, you were handling it well. Screw it; You were happy and excited. Your high school progress was inconsistent despite the opportunities (a.k.a college options) it gave you.

When the first day of freshman college year started, the place was welcoming you. It felt like a rebirth without dying. A reset button to delete every data of the past, but didn't erase who you were.

Farming strawberries, walking home as you pass the cabbage farm of the Choi family, or getting paid to be Ms. Ji's shepherd were no longer y9ur habits as you moved to the concrete jungle. Thankfully, you were not alone; Ms. Ji's son and the son of the Choi couple were with you in the same college.

It was a new life and it was going well so far.

-

11:36 PM (Wednesday, Winter Season, Week 1)

Your legs pace to your rented flat as you try your best to endure the pain of your frozen ungloved fingers. Just like any other women's trousers, the one you wore had fake pockets serving no purpose.

"I really wanted to walk slowly..." talking to yourself, your words took shape under the forms of winter fog.

You grew fond of this city. Maybe a little too much to the extent, you don't take advantage of public transportation. Walking home made you feel grounded and one with nature, and you had to do it slowly.  There was something so heartwarming about the snow piles on the empty seats of the swings as you passed the mini playground at almost midnight.

However, your hands were on the verge of frostbite. You just needed to walk a kilometer to get to the flat you shared with Chanhee and Changmin, but instead your feet took you to the nearest convenience store from the sidewalk you were walking on. It lit the brightest blue 24-hour sign. As you pushed the transparent door, it nudged the shopkeeper's bell.

"Hello, welcome to Ministop. Let me know if I can help-" you let your eyelids blind you for a second, satisfied with the warmth.

Then, you realized; it might've been awkward for the cashier to see you just standing there, closing your eyes. If you think about it, it looked as if you didn't want to hear a thing he said. Maybe that’s why he never finished his sentence. You opened your eyes in an instant.

"Oh sorry, didn't mean to look like I was ignoring what you said, it's just-"

No. You knew exactly why he stopped finishing his cashier-to-customer mantra.

"Sunwoo?"

"Y/N?" He stood up from his seat.

"What are you doing at midnight? It's snowing hard! No gloves too! Just sit at the snack table, I'll get you hand warmers..." Before you get to form refusals in your head, he went to an alley (one that sold hand warmers, you assumed).

You stood still, watching his head from afar as other alleys blocked you from seeing the rest of his body. He came back to you with words kept. You had to raise your chin slightly to look up at his eyes. He avoided your eyes as he prepared the hand warmers for your use.

"How much do these cost?" He pulled your relaxed elbow to the snack table and you grunted with intentions to annoy him and you laughed.

"It's on me, hon'. Just use it." He pushed your shoulders down to make you sit.

Sunwoo stunned you frozen; it was nothing compared to the ice on your fingers. Something about him since the first time you both met in Music lecture dazzled you. He was always playful with the craft of his words to you. He would always call you 'honey', but you never knew what it meant. You always initiated eye contact, trying to search for answers behind those starry orbs.

Why you? Why 'honey'? Why would he always avoid it?

In your heart, you really wished it were the obvious answers. That the flowers of romance were blooming in his heart. Sometimes you can see when the flowers are overflowing, needing your heart for space to share. Another owner of love to share. He couldn't tend this garden of love on his own anymore.

You saw it. The times when he would laugh at your words thinking what you said was a joke. You knew that he was not listening at all. He just wanted to seem like that. He had to make sure you knew he 'cared'. But you know the difficulty was not that he did not care about what you had to say. It was the kind of care that he wanted to express; it was more than the kind of care a friend shows.

"Thank you..." you smiled at him.

He looked at you as he stood in front you for a few seconds. Just letting his eyes catch every detail of your feature. As if you were a statue sculpted by Michaelangelo. As if you were an art to be studied in a museum. He let his hands dust off the snow on your hair.

You felt loved before. Your parents showed you an unconditional, tough, and raw one. Your friends showed you a fulfilling, lively, and nonjudgmental one.

This? This was different. It was honey-like, warm, and hypnotizing.

"Sunwoo?" You stared at his face, refusing every desire and impulse to just get close to it.

"Yeah?" His voice turned breathy, nervous for your next words.

"Will you come to the party that Eric is hosting soon? Because I will." You know he would go wherever you would.

"Only because you are." He chuckled at you.

-

12:06 PM (Tuesday, Winter Season, Week 2)

Vacation week. Campus empty. No studies. No lectures. Winter season. No students.

What a dream...

"Oh my god! I swear, Y/N, your alarm shook the whole flat. You're making me take back my Atheism conversion if you keep doing this. I might have to worship 'He Who I Said I Believe In For The Sake Of My Christian Parents' just for the Mighty to take you back and make sure to give you good ears- OR BETTER earthquake awareness 'cause how the hell did this not wake you up?"

"Chanhee, you yapping like a mother apparently woke me up much better than my loud alarm. You should be my new alarm!" 

"Yeah, sure... No wonder your mum had to use a wok and a ladle as music instruments for your alarm ringtone performance every morning back home. She should audition to be a K-Pop idol at this point, considering how she has been doing it for 18 years!!"

"Chanhee, what are the three rules we have in this house?" Changmin joined the conversation from the kitchen, about 6 meters away from your bedroom.

"Oh my- One, no 'your mum' jokes in the morning or else we'll fight. Two, no yapping for more than a minute to ensure tranquility. Three, always remember to wake Y/N up with patience as she is younger than us by 2 years." You smiled under the blankets, since Chanhee promised that he would cook dinner for 2 weeks if he didn't follow his own rules.

"And what's four?"

"HA! Rule number four! To mention Sunwoo if you need Y/N urgently. Get your butt out of that bed, it's Eric's party or else I'll use your mum's wok to bang your head." And just like that, your eyes widened and your spine corrected its posture under a second.

"How do you execute rule number four and forget the rest right after you mention them?! You're cooking tonight!"

-

8:24 PM (Tuesday, Winter Season, Week 2)

There were certain types of partygoers on campus. There are the frats, the nightclubbers, and the Music Fanatics. See, the music community on campus was still small. It consisted of eleven boys and eight girls. The community was a fun idea made by Sangyeon and Jacob. One is a producer for the other who is a singer. The community's activities were therapy for you. Creating a playlist with monthly themes, listening to songs without using your ears for the first time and describing them, and so many more. You wished the community was more popular.

Thankfully, these nineteen people really like being around each other. It was the first time the eight girls (including you) found their own "besties" or "girlfriends" as they would call it nowadays. So did the eleven boys. That was why they gather around for what they call "Eric's Party" every month, as he had the biggest flat and his parents were in Los Angeles working at the time.

The "Music Fanatics" were different partygoers. They loved it in Eric's house with a lit fireplace, board games, baking sessions, horror movies, K-Pop Random Play Dance, guessing songs by the first second, and many laughs.

"Okay, but why is the girls' group chat name XG... Like what does it even stand for? eXtra-weird Girls?" Eric and Maya were deep in their endless bantering session.

"Boy, it's extraordinary girls! Kind of creative unlike someone..." she coughed with the words The Boyz between the rough breaths.

"We wanted to take X to name our group chat, but you took it first! Now, we're left with a Z!"

"You're slow, and that's Y."

"Honestly, Cocona, that's a bar."

"KEVIN, ARE YOU NOT ON MY SIDE?"

"Hey, guys! Should we play truth or dare for once?" Asked Changmin as he looked down at the bag of crisps he was eating.

You looked at him with eyes screaming "Call it off! Retreat! What are you doing?!" However, he acted like he was not all aware of the eyes on me. When you frustrated Changmin with a romance that doesn't have progress, and proceeded to come home with complaints, he would roleplay Cupid in a human form.

You recalled the last time he made you play Truth or Dare. He asked you the question with an I-Know-Nothing face. When you answered "truth," you were asked about whether or not you have a romantic attraction towards anyone. When you answered the other one, you were told to stay in the closet for 10 minutes with your (then) crush, as the others proceeded. Thankfully, at the time Sunwoo hadn't joined the Music Fanatics to see that since that Hyunjun guy didn’t reciprocate your feelings.

In order not to act dodgy, you decided to stir your coffee. Looking at the clashes of waves as you made a tea cyclone in a ceramic cup. Trying hard to calm yourself down.

"Y/N. Truth or Dare?" Sangyeon asked you.

Kevin sipped his tea with a noisy slurp, looking at you with dancing eyebrows. Chisa and Jurin widened their eyes and giggled silently, trying their best not to look dodgy in front of Sunwoo. Changmin's lips left agape. Eric laughed with his head down.

Oh....

Fine. To hell with it.

"Dare."

"Oh, I know!" Changmin chimed in.

-

8:56 PM (Tuesday, Winter Season, Week 2)

"I don't know why it has to be me, honestly." Sunwoo made an effort to put on a platonic face.

You sat on the carpeted closet without replying to him. He grew worried as no words left your mouth. He was afraid of every change of feelings you had, especially about him.

"Hey... I'm sorry if this thing is weird..." He lowered his head.

"Sunwoo, sit in front of me." The sternness made his body obey.

"What's up, hon'?" He brushed away the hair covering your face.

"What's stopping you, Sunwoo?" His breath stopped for a second.

You could feel within half a meter of a distance, his brain was processing vague and dismissive sentences to get out of this situation.

"Stopping me from what- Oh what I said before? Oh, I'm actually fine with you in the closet, I don't mean it that way— Sorry if you think that I was pushing you—"

"You know what I mean." He felt trapped this time.

Because he knew what you meant. However, he was caged in fear, not letting himself be vulnerable to the girl in front of him, scared that whatever he had to offer was either not enough or robbed away from him.

"I'm scared that love will always hurt, just like my last one."

You looked up, feeling your soul levitated in the gaze of his midnight eyes.

"I'm not her, am I now?"

"No. You're much better. You want me and I can feel it."

"Do you want me?" He took a breath, feeling the tension choking his neck.

"More than you know." You placed your hands on his cheeks, you leaned closer to his face. His breath fanning your face.

You let the chemistry speak, eyes on his lips then to his gaze. Leaning closer to his face until your foreheads touched, he placed his hands on your waist. Then, he nodded.

Lips clashing one other, your desire for him only grew more. It was silent as you traded mouths, but both of you heard each other loud and clear. For him, this was everything. The drive to go to lectures early, the reason he had structured a daily routine just so that he can see you as much as possible, he has you now.

"Do you believe that heaven's real?" Sunwoo let his nose and forehead rest with yours.

"Not really, no."

"Then, I'll love you 'til it hurts like hell." The final words came from Sunwoo before an alarm went off.

"I better see lipstick stains on Sunwoo once y'all out!"

-

[lady-pug]

if we could wake up

Chapter I of Wouldn't It Be Nice

Summary: You sustain a head injury while on a mission but Whiskey isn’t fast enough to administer the alpha gel, so your memories of your time at Statesman don’t come back. Instead, you only remember up until the day before you were recruited and your memory ends up being reset every night. Jack makes it his mission to make you fall in love with him everyday (50 First Dates AU)

Pairing: Jack Daniels | Agent Whiskey x Reader

Word count: 1,1k

Warnings: major head injury (bullet to the head, but it's reversed using Statesman technology), memory loss

Notes: Hello dearest readers, it is I. I bring thee something that has been sitting among my WIPs for over two (I kid you not) whole years. I’ve had chapters one and two of this story completely ready stored in my files alongside all my other WIPs and simply never remembered to publish it FOR OVER TWO YEARS! Shame on me, wtf. Which makes me quite sad because it was one of my favorites to work on when I first came up with this idea. But anyways here it is.

I distinctly remember having come up with the idea for this after watching ‘50 First Dates’ four times in the same week (if it wasn’t clear by now this is my all time favorite rom-com) and thinking it fit right up with this cowboy right here.

I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this story, and if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated.

Reader is female, but no physical descriptions provided

Next part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Bullets were flying, coming from everywhere. Whiskey could barely look over the cover he was hiding behind before someone was shooting at him.

“Ginger!” he screamed into the earpiece “Cider’s down!”

“What happened?” he heard the static voice of Agent Ginger Ale, or as her friends liked to call her, Elizabeth or Liz, over the comms.

“Dunno. Some goons are shooting at us. She just went down.” he ducked again after failing to locate his partner “Can’t even find her. Probably shot at.”

“Get to her immediately. If she got hit in the head you need to administer the alpha gel as soon as possible!”

“I’m trying here, Ging! Ain’t as easy with twenty guys aiming at your head.”

“Use one of those stunning bombs I made you.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to use those prototypes yet.”

“That’s all you got now!” he could tell Ginger was becoming agitated “Just do it, Jack!”

He did just that. Picking up one of the stunning bombs in his pocket he threw it as hard as he could towards the barricade. A loud, piercing sound erupted almost immediately, hurting his ears even from where he was. Poor goons, he thought. With his ears still ringing, he took off using his whip and lasso to take out the men one by one.

Once the place was clear and no other enemies could be detected, he ran towards the place he last saw you. Where you had gone down. He came to a halt, however, his heart dropping to his stomach when his eyes landed on your slumped form, a bullet hole on your temple and blood covering the ground.

“Shit, Ging! They blew her brains out.”

“Administer the gel, quick! It’s been way too long already.”

He fumbled with the equipment, almost dropping the roll of gel, before he quickly placed  it over your face, making sure to cover the wound.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m here. I’m going to take care of you. Ging is going to fix your pretty little head in no time, yeah?”

The gel inflated and seemed to be doing its job. 

“Ginger, the gel’s been administered. What now?”

“I’m sending a rescue team your way. Try keeping her head slightly elevated.” she said “And Jack? She’s going to be okay.”

Jack nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. He moved around and propped his back against a tree, his legs extended in front of him. As carefully as he could, he dragged your body, laying your head on his lap, running his fingers through your hair.

“You are going to be fine, sweetheart. I promise.”

The following hours were amongst the longest of his life. Jack would even go as far as to say it was almost as long as the hours he went without any news from his wife the day she had died. As soon as the plane landed on the tarmac, a gurney was ready to take you, rolling you to Ginger’s lab.

She wouldn’t allow him to go inside. The machine you were currently hooked onto had nanoparticles working on your brain to regenerate your neurons, astrocytes and neuroglia, or something sciency he couldn’t quite understand. He was in absolute agony not knowing how you were.  

Finally, after what seemed like weeks, Ginger finally walked out of the lab. He scrambled to his feet from where he was sitting slumped against the wall in front of the lab’s doors.

“How is she?” he blurted out.

“Stable. But the damage to her brain was extensive. And the alpha gel wasn’t administered within the correct window of time.”

“Shit, Liz- I- If I had gotten to her quicker…”

“Hey, hey Jack” she laid a hand on his shoulder “It’s not your fault. There were 23 men shooting at the both of you. Our entire elite squad couldn’t take them all out that quick. You did all you could.”

He sighed, only half believing her.

“What does that mean to her?”

It was Ginger’s turn to sigh.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll only be able to assess the real extent of the damage once she wakes up.”

His shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Why don’t you take a shower, maybe try taking a nap? I’ll wake you up if anything changes.”

He nodded, actually wanting desperately to clean up now that Ginger mentioned it, but already knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink until he knew you were safe. 

Jack walked slowly back towards his quarters, almost dragging his feet into the shower. The water seemed to sooth his aches, but not his worries. He couldn’t get the image of your form, suddenly dropping lifeless, out of his head. Everytime he closed his eyes that scene replayed in the back of his eyelids like some sick, twisted film.

He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t lose another person he- shit, did he love you? You have been partners for years now, always had each other's backs. You were one of the few people he truly trusted, someone he felt comfortable enough to open up and be vulnerable. To be himself. Recently, he’s started feeling something more than just the friendship you’ve nourished for the past years. He felt the urge to protect you, even though he knew for a fact you could look after yourself. He wanted to kiss you goodnight and wake up next to you the following morning. So did he love you? 

Yeah. Yeah, he did. He knew that now. And he couldn’t lose you.

Laying on his bed, his hair was still wet from the shower when Ginger pinged him. He was out of bed and halfway across the base in the blink of an eye. He couldn’t remember running that fast in years. Bursting through the door of the lab, he found you sitting on one of the pristine white beds, Ginger in front of you holding a clipboard.

“Sweetheart…”

Both you and Ginger looked at him with wide eyes. Ginger walked around your bed in his direction.

“Whiskey, wait-” but he didn’t listen.

“Sweetheart, thank all things sacred, you’re okay!” 

He rushed forward, wrapping his arms around you in the tightest embrace you two had ever shared. He pulled back, hardly noticing the way you stiffened in his embrace, cupping your cheeks so he could look into your eyes.

“Jack-” he faintly registered Ginger’s voice behind him, but he didn’t truly care. All he cared about was that you were safe. That is until you opened your mouth to talk.

“I’m sorry,” you smiled politely at him “but who are you?”