#the mentalist one shot

[freelancearsonist]

in shades of gray and candlelight

➔ Marcus Pike x fem!Reader - 7.2k

➔ Nothing good starts in a getaway car, but you sure do have fun delaying the inevitable.

➔ Rated MA for artist!reader my beloved (reader is able-bodied, basic female anatomy and feminine pronouns used, reader is described as having hair that is long enough to be put up but otherwise she’s a blank slate), unprotected p in v sex, cum swallowing, creampie, semi-public sex acts, oral (r + m receiving), handjobs, fingering, very light switchy dom/sub dynamics, a couple spanks, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, baby, honey), heavy praise kink, light size kink, consent king!marcus, just like the song it does not end happily [please let me know if i missed any at all :)]

➔ this is my (first 😈) submission to @beskarandblasters Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge! i really did mean for this to be a drabble especially since i didn't know anything about marcus before receiving this prompt but he has my whole fucking heart and mind now 😩 thank you so much for the challenge lovely kel, and special thank u to my baby @fhatbhabie for betaing and screaming with me ily <3 (dividers by the amazing and talented @saradika-graphics)

You meet Marcus Pike on a Friday night and it’s obvious from the start that he’s going to change your life forever.

He looks a little disheveled when he enters the gallery–brown hair ruffled and standing up in places, tie loose, top shirt button undone. There’s an alluring five o’clock shadow burgeoning across his jaw and cheeks. He looks like he’s had a long day, and it’s only going to get longer. It’s all part of the plan, of course. He’s supposed to look like a standard blue collar worker, and he pulls it off with ease.

It’s the exhibition’s opening night, so it’s a little more packed than the gallery normally would be. It works in his favor–he’s able to collect a plastic cup of champagne from the refreshment table and blend seamlessly into the crowd.

His eyes are diligent as they scan the faces that come and go. He tries to commit them all to memory–the tall woman with the slight limp, the short guy wearing the Hawaiian patterned shirt. There’s dozens of people that pass by, and so many of them are forgettable. It’s exhibitions like these that make him dread undercover work.

The art on the walls isn’t exceptional, but it’s not bad. Nothing that seems worth stealing, that’s for sure. But his source is good, and his source said that this place was getting hit tonight. So he keeps his watchful eyes vigilant and pretends to sip the champagne in his hand.

Until he finds your exhibit.

There’s a depth to your art that he’s come to be familiar with–something he sees often in work of high value. Anyone can make abstract art, it’s as simple as flicking paint at a canvas. But few can charge it as emotionally as you have. To convey feeling and passion and heart through abstraction is a separate art form all its own, and it’s one you’ve mastered.

He’s seen original Rothko’s, Van Gogh’s, Kandinsky’s; he’s held their frames in his own two hands. But nothing’s ever made his breath hitch in his throat quite the way yours does.

He stands in front of a canvas simply labeled “Waves In Motion” with your name printed neatly underneath, brow creased with a concentration that seems a little unnecessary given the subject matter of the painting. It’s all shades of blue and violet, swirling together in a way that seems partly sensuous, partly violent. It makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle, and he takes a step closer. That’s when he notices it: a single dot of red paint right in the middle, a focal point of all the swirling cobalts. So small that he wouldn’t notice it if he wasn’t close; so small it could almost be interpreted as a mistake.

But he knows without having to ask that it’s not an answer. He wonders who that dot represents: you, the artist? Most likely.

Without meaning to, he smiles. It’s been a long time, years really, since a piece of art provoked such thought. 

“Hi.”

The voice Marcus hears next to him is soft, dulcet. He doesn’t turn to the noise quickly–from the tone in that word alone he senses a hesitance, as if you’re a fawn that’s lost its mother and you’re bound to run if he makes any sudden movements.

And, truth be told, part of him thinks he might not be able to look away even if he tried right now. There’s something so beautiful about this painting–and underneath, something so ominous. There’s an air about the work that says he might unlock the secrets of the universe if he just keeps looking.

“Hi there.” He keeps his eyes trained on “Waves In Motion” as he responds–playing the game. He’s here to brush shoulders, after all; to be the right amount of forgettable yet memorable. 

“This is my best, I think,” you murmur while taking a step closer. “It took the least time of all of them, surprisingly. But… I think when you know exactly what you’re trying to convey, it just comes to you easily.”

“These are yours?” There’s admiration in his eyes and an air of something akin to disbelief in his voice as he takes in the group of canvases proudly displayed on the plain white gallery walls.

And then he turns and lets himself take you in. More specifically the curling strand of hair that falls out of your updo to frame your face, the deeply plunging neckline of your dress, the way your calf muscles work even standing still in your high-heeled shoes. You’re a work of art in your own right; the most beautiful piece he’s seen in a long time.

“Yeah.” You duck your head–shyly, modestly–and he’s hooked. There’s one thing in this building that deserves awe and reverence more than your painting, and it’s you. “You know, you’re only the second person who’s come over tonight.”

“No way. They’re all just working their way back here,” he whispers before he can calculate a more articulate response.

But it works in his favor–your giggle is gorgeous, if a sound can be described that way. Sweet and syrupy, it seeps over him as if he’s standing under a cracked honeycomb. He hasn’t actually taken a drink of his champagne, and yet he can feel his nervous system tingling. You’re just that intoxicating.

“The gallery closes in half an hour,” you tell him–a little wistfully at that. “In my defense, I don’t have any family or friends in the area. I wasn’t really expecting anyone to show, not with so many other talented artists here.”

It seems so indignantly unfair to Marcus. That you’re shoved into the far back corner of the gallery, that people haven’t come in droves from all over the country to see your work.

“Where are you from?” He asks as his mind finally starts to clear from the haze it’s been in the past few minutes. With only half an hour left on the job, he allows himself a small sip of the drink that he’s been cradling all night.

“New York. This is actually only my second exhibition,” you explain, and you almost sound shy about it; as if you need to be embarrassed about being young and fresh-faced in the art industry, as if you aren’t the most talented artist Marcus has ever met in person.

He hums in response, eyes unconsciously dragging over you once more. “You came a long way for this.”

You smile so prettily up at him, and in that moment he sees something in your eyes. He can’t describe it–maybe it’s something akin to longing. Something incomplete, unexplored. It’s familiar; it’s the red dot from your painting. Solitary amidst the swirling, lost yet not hopeless.

And just like your painting, he finds himself wanting to get lost in your eyes.

“Well, it’s not every day a gallery wants to host you,” you say after another sip of your drink. “Plus, I’ve never been to Texas before, and I needed a change of scenery.”

There’s something so charming, so boyishly intoxicating about the smile he graces you with. “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s hotter than I’m used to,” you say with a chuckle that he echoes. “And I haven’t been able to do any exploring yet, my flight only got in a couple hours before I had to be here.”

“That’s a shame,” he hums in a tone that reveals deeper meaning. “How long are you here for? Do you have any plans?”

“A week,” you murmur. Subconsciously he leans in closer, on the edge of his proverbial seat. To seal the deal, you lean in too. “And not a damned one.”

There’s no air between you and Marcus. You exist in a vacuum for this moment–unable to breathe, choking on anticipation. He’s so close, yet way too far away. You want to be consumed by him–for him to be swirling blue; and you, a single speck of red in his midst.

The moment shatters with an audible sound–a deep, penetrating voice. “He’s still not here, huh? I don’t think your boyfriend’s coming. If he even exists.” There’s something strange in the raspy voice that drawls these words–something strange enough to immediately put Marcus on the alert.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion into your vacuum, but you recover quickly. You have to, because this intrusive stranger is standing way too close and has way too much alcohol on his breath.

And then something strange happens–you worm your arm around Marcus’s waist and press yourself firmly into his side.

“Actually, he’s right here,” you say. There’s a quality to your voice that wasn’t there before when you were just talking to Marcus–it’s firm, clipped, bordering on hostile. “He just got held up at work. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Thankfully, Marcus has always been one to think quickly on his feet. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer, unconsciously moving an inch or two in front of you. Protecting without really meaning to. “I’m sorry, honey. I got here as soon as I could.”

The man–burly and balding, probably a good twenty years older than you–scoffs. “Unbelievable.”

“Is there a problem here?” Marcus draws up to his full height–towering a good few inches over this strange intruder.

Whoever this guy is, he’s not completely stupid. He senses this isn’t going to be a fight he’ll win, so he backs off. “Not at all, man. Just didn’t want little miss standing here all alone the whole night.”

“Thanks,” you say with bitter reprehension. You wind even closer to Marcus–closer than this sudden farce demands. “But we’re fine now.”

He nods once–curt and unhappy, but seemingly satisfied that he’s not going to get what he wants. “Have a good night, ma’am. Sir.”

Marcus takes a mental inventory of the man as he storms off, committing his physical description and his outfit to memory. He doesn’t look like a casual art viewer, and he doesn’t look like a collector. He’s exactly the type that Marcus came here to look out for.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as you step out of Marcus’s personal space. “He’s been hovering all night, asking me who I’m going home with and shit.”

“That’s the other guy who came over to talk to you?” It brings a deep frown to his face, a crease forming between his brows. It certainly raises a red flag–if the guy has any eye for value, of course he would be drawn to your exhibit. And if he has an eye for value, he could be the guy Marcus came for.

“Yeah.” You rub the back of your neck awkwardly and avert your gaze, as if you should be embarrassed for drawing that guy’s attention. “It’s not been the greatest night.”

Marcus hates that. He hates that you came all this way to be let down, that this is only your second exhibition and you’ve had such a bad experience with it. More than anything, he hates that he can still see the spark in your eyes when you look up at him, and he can tell that it’s dimmed.

“Gimme just a minute.”

He doesn’t mean to be so abrupt, but he wants to make it quick. He hustles to the single-stall men’s room and tugs the radio out of his inside jacket pocket to call in the man’s description. Then he turns it off, tucks it back into its concealed pocket, and goes over to the sink.

He thought he looked perfect for the part he had to play when he left his house to come here. Now, he’s too disheveled. He wets his fingertips and tries to tame the mess on top of his head; he re-buttons his shirt and tightens his tie. He looks flustered, and he’s not even surprised by it. You’ve got his heart pounding with anticipation in a way he doesn’t think it ever has before.

Butterflies fluttering on in his stomach, he emerges from the restroom to resume his position by your side.

Except you’re not by your exhibit anymore, and the crowd has thinned considerably. He checks his watch and realizes there’s only five minutes before the gallery closes for the night. Maybe you’ve decided to cut your losses and leave early.

He hates the way his gut twists with disappointment, but then he reminds himself that he didn’t come here for you. He’s working, and he needs to stay vigilant. No distractions, no complications.

“You’re still here.”

There’s a wave of relief that washes over him as he hears your voice, and this time he’s not too timid to turn towards you. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Thought I might’ve scared you off.” There’s a fresh cup of champagne in your hand and a hint of vulnerability in your voice, and it makes his heart pick up pace just the slightest bit. You duck your head–that shy, modest gesture again. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just done that without permission.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he tells you, more earnestly than he’s ever said anything in his life. “I didn’t mind at all, I swear. Just had to hit the head.”

You look so deeply into his eyes he almost wonders if you aren’t looking through him. But whatever you find, you must like it.

He clears his throat and tries to not show how thoroughly unraveled he is by your gaze. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Marcus.” You pause for a moment, and he can tell that there’s something else lingering on the tip of your tongue–so he remains silent in hopes of drawing it out.

“Do you have someone to go home to?”

There it is–the invitation he was both dreading and hoping for. He should really lie. He’s here on a job, after all–he’s supposed to avoid complications, and some instinct tells him you’re going to be much more than a simple distraction. But he’s told you the truth so far, and he doesn’t want to stop now.

“No. No, I don’t.”

This is everything that Marcus has never even considered doing. It’s late, it’s dark, it’s a little chilly for spring in Austin. The alley is grimey and drafty–your hair blows in the breeze even as you kneel down before him.

All he can do is stand there, dumbstruck with his back up against the rough brick wall, and stare down at you. 

He’s still breathless from the way you’ve been kissing him–all heat and passion, fire and brimstone. Your hands ran through his hair and undid the effort he put in while in the bathroom, and his hands clutched your waist in a futile attempt to ground himself. Your lips are so soft; he thinks he could kiss you forever and never get tired of it. He was certainly planning on finding out, until you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“You… you don’t have to–”

But the way you look up at him through your lashes makes his throat close up around whatever protest he was going to try.

“I want to,” you assure him–more of a purr than a spoken statement.

And this really isn’t the place. He shouldn’t let you do this here. But he’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t make him harden in his boring gray work slacks.

Marcus has never been about excitement. He’s always strayed to the comfortable and familiar–he falls into the sweet, caring companion role with grace and ease.

And tonight doesn’t have to be that different. If you’re going to suck his dick in a dark, dingey alley, he’ll let you. But he’s going to lay his jacket down on the ground so you don’t scrape up your knees first.

You keen at the thoughtful gesture and grace him with a grateful smile as your adept fingers work his belt open. He’s straining against the seam of his pants now, begging for the attention that your gaze promises him.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think you’re every bit as eager to get his trousers and boxers down as he is.

And Lord help him, he delights in the gasp you emit when his cock springs free from its confines.

“Fuck, Marcus.” Your lips actually part as you freeze for a moment, just taking him in. He’s thick, maybe an inch longer than average, swollen head peeking through uncut skin as if begging for your waiting mouth. He curves to the left just a little bit, and you can almost see his pulse thrumming through the prominent vein that runs along the length of him.

“S’not that impressive,” he mumbles, and you know that he knows that he’s full of shit.

Your fingers almost don’t wrap all the way around him, and suddenly you’re second-guessing this back alley stint, too. You want him in bed. You want him deep inside you, kissing your face as he fucks you, hands all over your body, thrusts hard yet slow. You want it languid, you want it desperate, you want it any way he’ll give it to you. You don’t want to blow him and say goodbye.

He calculates your hesitation as something other than pure unadulterated lust, and he lifts your chin gently with his index and middle fingers.

“Hey, we don’t have to–”

Again, you cut him off–this time, by dragging your tongue from the seam of his balls all the way along his length to swirl messily around his tip. You taste every heady inch of him and then moan at the salty foreshadowing on your tongue when you catch a droplet of precum leaking from his slit.

Your hand springs into action with a long, slow stroke along his cock, and then you sink your mouth around him and he moans. Without caution or pretense, like you’re not in an alley that anyone could walk down at any moment. It’s a little more high-pitched than he’d like for it to be and his head thumps back against the brick wall hard enough to hurt, and even still he’s never felt so overwhelmed with pleasure before in his life.

Your nose meets the neat patch of hair at his base and your free hand comes up to his hip, effectively pinning him against the wall when he tries to buck greedily even further into your mouth.

No one’s ever taken him so relentlessly before. You’re insistent, pressing onward even as you gag on his length, and it makes his balls tighten in a way he’s never felt before. It’s like you’re hungry for him; like you’re doing this more for your own pleasure than for his.

Marcus Pike has been a giver his whole life. Tonight, with you, he finally decides to take.

He’d be embarrassed about how fast he comes if you weren’t so eager for it. You moan around him and push yourself as deep as you can, throat working around him desperately not to choke on the size of him. Before he can warn you he’s spilling into your mouth, maybe more than he’s ever come before, thick and salty but undeniably sweet too. You allow yourself a moment to savor him as he pulses in your mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive head of him in a way that makes him shiver and whine.

He’s panting, nearly light-headed, when you finally pull off of him and press one last gentle kiss over his slit.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, because there’s nothing else to say.

You giggle, and he realizes with a strange wistfulness that he would do anything to keep this girl–a girl he’s just met, a girl who’s leaving to go back to her home on the other side of the country in just a week–smiling and laughing the way she is now.

“My hotel is only a couple blocks away,” you tell him as he helps you to your feet. “Would you like a nightcap?”

You pick up his jacket and dust the grime off it–it makes him chuckle. Everything about this encounter has flown in the face of what he’s used to. 

He’s never felt so alive.

“I would love a nightcap.”

Your senses wake up slower than normal.

First it’s your eyes–they tune in on the bright mid-sunrise light streaming through the open balcony blinds on the far wall. It falls in slivers and shards over the rumpled white hotel-standard bedding–the second thing your senses tune into. Everything is so soft and light, but it’s a little cold too. Especially the other side of the bed; there’s no heat remaining there at all.

You push yourself up with a grunt and let the sheets fall away from your bare torso, tired eyes scanning around the room. You notice clothes scattered all over the floor while your ears wake up enough to hear water running in the bathroom, and you can’t help the involuntary smile that spreads over your face. He’s still here.

Marcus lets the too-hot water wash over him in scalding waves, muscles still a little sore after a long night tangled together with you.

He checked his phone first thing this morning, and the gallery was quiet all night. They think the suspect he radioed in was the guy they were looking for, but they weren’t able to apprehend him. The running theory is that he might’ve recognized Marcus and decided low-value art wasn’t worth the hassle, but one guess is as good as the next until they can bait and catch the guy.

It’s the weekend now, and Marcus is thanking his lucky stars. Not only does he have a successful mission to celebrate, but he has the most beautiful woman in the world to celebrate it with.

He emerges after a few minutes, wet hair messily scattered over his forehead and wide hips straining against a low-slung hotel towel. He’s a languid Saturday morning wet dream on two legs.

“G’morning,” he hums with a smile–he doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes dip down to hungrily take in your naked torso.

“Good morning, Marcus.”

He stalks towards you slowly, eyes darkening with each advancing step. It doesn’t take more than a second to realize he didn’t get his fill of your body last night, but you’re certainly not complaining.

He’s already starting to harden as he drops his towel and crawls over the foot of the bed, surging forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. If last night was desperation and passion, this morning is syrupy and sweet. He explores your mouth slowly, tongue sweeping between your lips and tracing every curve and ridge he can–almost like he’s trying to commit you to memory.

There are universes in the depths of his dark eyes. He may not say exactly what he’s thinking, but you can see it playing out in those baby browns of his. There’s something simmering underneath the surface–something more than just lust or desire.

Something dangerous.

You tug him closer and cup his face in your hands, enjoying the gentle scratch of morning stubble underneath your palms. He surges forward and presses you into the pillows as he settles himself comfortably between your spread legs. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs through kisses scattered along the length of your jaw.

You know you probably look like you got run over by a bus–you toss and turn in your sleep, and it always leaves your hair a matted mess. And that’s not even mentioning the slight tremble in your thighs, left over from Marcus’s enthusiastic attention last night. But there’s so much sincerity in his voice; you don’t think he would waste his breath saying it if he didn’t mean it, and that fact alone makes your heart pound with desire.

There’s a syrupy slowness to the way he moves down your body, lips leaving behind heavy wet kisses as he works down your chest and over your stomach.

And it’s almost like he senses the protest working its way up your throat when you feel his hot breath on your thighs, because he looks up at you and there’s sternness in his gaze. You got your fill last night, and now it’s his turn.

“May I?” He looks up at you from the apex of your thighs with big, round puppy eyes that are impossible to refuse–so you nod eagerly and don’t even try.

If you were eager to have him in your mouth last night, he’s desperate.

There’s no hesitation, no build-up. It’s almost aggressive, the way he buries his face in your heat. He laps like a dog at a bowl, hips canting into the mattress involuntarily as your taste floods his mouth.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he growls into your sopping cunt. “You taste incredible.”

You keen at the praise and card your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at the damp, spiky strands when his tongue laves heavily over your sensitive clit.

Marcus’s greedy hands grip underneath your thighs and push them as far as you can comfortably spread them. You’re still so sensitive after at least three orgasms last night–you lost count after a point–and it serves to wind your nerves tighter than they’ve ever been wound before.

One hand slides to the junction of your thigh and his thumb comes to take over the pressure on your clit as his tongue plunges between your soaked folds. It’s even more overwhelming like this, and there’s not a thing in the world that you want to do more than let him have his fun. Especially when that hand and his tongue switch spots–his lips seal and suck around your clit while he presses two achingly thick fingers into your waiting entrance.

It actually makes your muscles tighten and your back rise off the bed as he curls his fingers just right to find that spot that makes you fall apart for him. 

He can tell you’re getting close–he’s already so intune with the way your muscles twitch, the change of pitch in your moans. You whine and cry for him the tighter he winds the rubberband, and he’s eager to make it snap.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he says over the overwhelming flutter of his fingers scissoring and curling inside you. “Let me have it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut so tightly as pleasure wracks through your body that you can see constellations. Large hands come to pin your thighs open as his tongue keeps working, lapping and gliding against your cunt with ease as a wave of arousal gushes from your entrance.

You’ve never been so wet in your life, and he’s just getting started.

He trails open-mouthed kisses up your body as you catch your breath–his slick-soaked lips coat your skin with your own arousal as he works his way up to allow you a taste of yourself.

The first wet lick of his tongue into your mouth makes you moan. It’s not the first time you’ve tasted your own slick–you’ve had a moment or two of curiosity–but it’s never been quite as enjoyable as it is on his tongue. It pairs so perfectly with the minty tang of toothpaste left on his breath and makes you hungry for more.

He moves fluidly under your direction as you push him onto his back and roll to straddle his lap all in one graceful movement. It’s perfect like this–he doesn’t have to support his weight so he can run his big meaty hands all over every inch of you, and you can kiss him as deep as you want while you grind down on his aching length.

“Shit, baby,” he pants against your lips. Those aforementioned beefy palms grasp hard at your asscheeks to guide your hips, pulling you into a slow, long grind that bumps the head of his cock against your clit deliciously.

Your pulse thrums with desperation until you’re seeing white–no more teasing, no more preamble. You take his girth in your hand and give him a firm stroke; if you had a little more presence of mind, you might be embarrassed at how wet his dick is simply from grinding against you for a few seconds.

“Go ahead, baby, take it when you’re ready.”

He gasps at the first press of his cockhead against your entrance, head flopping back against the pillows as his hands squeeze your asscheeks with bruising force.

“Shit, you’re tight,” he murmurs, throat working around a thick gulp. “You can take it baby, I know you can. Did so good for me last night.”

You think you would honestly do anything he asks of you so long as he just keeps talking like this.

It takes a moment for you to work your way down his length–he’s so mouth-wateringly thick and the curve of his cock hits the most delicious spot inside you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Atta girl,” he praises breathlessly as your hips settle flush against his. “Just sit there for a minute. So pretty on my dick.”

God, he makes your entire body flush with heat. He turns your blood to molten lava with his words, lighting every inch of skin on fire. You’ve never felt a sensation like this–so overwhelming yet so intoxicating.

You start with slow movements as his hands trace up and down your sides sweetly–it’s more like you’re grinding on him than anything else. His thumbs rub abstract little patterns into your skin as his hands work up to your tits; when he finally takes them in the palms of his hands and squeezes all pretense of soft, sweet morning-after sex flies out the window.

You drop down hard on his cock and it nearly punches the wind out of him. 

“Yes!” He growls darkly. His eyes flash with something dangerous–it’s the only warning you get before his hand slaps the meat of your ass and grabs a greedy handful. “Just like that baby, use my fuckin’ dick.”

And maybe, if he was someone else, you wouldn’t be nearly as eager to follow instructions. But with Marcus, you’re nothing if not obedient.

Last night was exploration and discovery–hours into the early morning spent learning each other’s bodies, finding what makes the other squirm and whine and beg. This morning is in perfect juxtaposition to that sweet, soft, probing sex–you know what drives each other crazy now, and you each use it to your advantage. Aggressively.

He surges up to suck a pert nipple into his mouth as you set a hard pace on him, long fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to leave marks. He lands another sharp smack to your ass when your thighs start to shake–a reward for using his cock exactly how he asked.

”M-Marcus—”

”I know, sweetheart,” he purrs through a guttural moan. He cants his hips up to meet your thrusts at just the right moment—he hits something so devastatingly pleasurable that your vision prickles white around the edges. “I know, it’s so much, isn’t it? It’s okay, you can let go. Come for me.”

There’s a condescending note to his voice that only makes you squeeze harder around his cock, and within seconds you’re hurtling uncontrollably into ecstasy.

He fucks you through the telltale fluttering of your cunt even when your hips stop moving; strong hands hold you in place and work you through the ebbing waves of pleasure that wrack through your entire body.

”M’so close, honey,” he grunts with a particularly sharp thrust upward. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw in his hand, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Where do you want me?”

”I-inside,” you gasp. “Come inside me, Marcus.”

He fills you as soon as he has your instruction—hard thrusts punctuated by breathy moans as he pumps you full of his release.

There’s a long, silent moment where Marcus pulls your bare chest tightly against his own and you pant into the crook of his neck while trying desperately to even-out your breathing. His fingertips dance across your skin-feather-light, soothing.

The sun is higher in the sky now and meets your eyes with blinding rays through the balcony shutters when they finally open again.

”That was amazing, honey,” he murmurs into the crown of your head. He’s caught his own breath now, but he doesn’t make any attempt to let you go. “How’re you so perfect?”

”M’not perfect,” you mumble into his shoulder; but even to your own ears, it sounds half-hearted. The truth is, he’s so earnestly honest that you believe him.

He hums his dissent with a kiss pressed to your hairline. ”You are to me.”

And you so desperately want to believe him that you don’t even try to argue.

You bask in this warm, lovely afterglow for a few moments longer before Marcus gently taps your hip. ”Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get cleaned up and I’ll buy you breakfast.”

You pull off of his softened cock with a whine and try not to get worked up all over again at the feeling of his cum leaking down your thighs. ”Th-there’s a free continental breakfast downstairs.”

”Oh, then I’ll definitely pick up the tab,” he jokes with a smirk—all you want to do is kiss his goofy, stupidly handsome face.

He pulls you into the bathroom and starts the water running to fill the tub—he’s never really been a bath guy, but your legs are a little too shaky to endure a shower. He’s so attentive—from running a damp cloth between your legs to helping lower you into the water. He doesn’t complain in the slightest when you catch his hand and ask him to join you; he just shuffles you forward and slides in behind you like it’s a casual act that he performs with every hookup.

It’s intimate. That’s really the only way to describe it. You sit between his spread legs, back to his chest, head rested back against his shoulder while his fingers ghost idle paths over your skin. You don’t talk; you don’t really need to. Somehow, you fit together like souls who have known each other for years. Like all you’ve been missing is each other.

You drift off in his arms as he traces soap over all the curves and ridge of your body, the steady beat of his heart thumping in your ear.

It breaks his heart a little bit to wake you—the fact that you’re so comfortable with him, that you trust him with such vulnerability, makes his head spin a little bit. But the water’s turning cold, and the last thing he wants is for you to come down sick or something.

He rouses you with gentle, feathery kisses scattered over your rosy-scented shoulders and neck.

”Mmm… what time is it?” You grumble, pressing your sleep-addled face further into the crook of his neck.

”Just after noon,” he whispers into your hair after glancing up at the clock on the wall.

He can feel the way your mouth shifts into a pout. “Shit. We missed breakfast.”

The adorable downward tilt of your frown as you lift your dad to look at him makes his heart flutter. “Let’s go out, then. The first farmer’s market of the season is going on downtown. I’m sure we can find something good for brunch.”

”Kinda sounds like you’re asking me on a date,” you hum with a slight smirk dancing at your lips.

”Maybe I am.” His tone is light, his meaning clear—he knows this goes beyond a one-night stand, and there’s no harm done if you’re not wanting to cross this boundary. He’d understand not wanting to get too serious about someone who lives thousands of miles away from your home, of course. He’d never blame you.

You give him your best appraising look, staring deep into those constellation-filled brown eyes. ”You’re not sick of me yet?”

”I have a feeling I couldn’t get sick of you if I tried.” There’s nothing but sincerity in his tone, in his eyes. He genuinely wants to spend time with you, even if there’s nowhere for this to really go.

You hum thoughtfully. “I do love farmer’s markets.”

You’re with Marcus more often than not over the course of the next week.

He takes you sightseeing to some of his favorite spots around Austin, brings you to his favorite restaurants, shows you his favorite movies. But he multitasks—while teaching you about himself, he learns as much as he can about you and picks activities he knows you’ll love, too. 

He’s a pragmatist; he knows your time together is short, and he wants to make himself unforgettable. If he never sees you again, he wants you to think about him every once in a while and look back on this time fondly.

You spend your days while Marcus is at work painting or drawing or lingering around the gallery, and you fall asleep in his arms every night. With shades of gray moonlight and candlelight cast over your hotel room, it almost feels like this could go on forever.

He tells you to wear something nice before he picks you up on the last night–he wants to celebrate in style, which starts with reservations at an up-scale restaurant. 

He’s so achingly handsome. He’s in a matching gray suit over a white button-up, top two buttons undone and no tie to be seen. His face bears the slightest five o’clock shadow and your eyes gravitate to the curve of his lips–the instant smile that takes over his face when those gorgeous brown eyes of his land on you.

If you never see him again, this is exactly how you want to remember him.

“Wow,” he whispers reverently. “You look amazing.”

It’s not the most impressive dress you own, but he looks at you like you’re wearing something worth millions–like you’re worth millions.

You lean up and kiss him, and everything feels right. His hands rest on your waist and it’s so easy to pretend that you won’t be on the other side of the country twenty-four hours from now.

The restaurant is beautiful. Dimly lit and romantic, tables spaced enough to give you some privacy. He takes your hand on top of the table and holds it the entire meal. The conversation is light and airy–you’re both stubbornly dancing around what really needs to be said.

Dessert is cleared and the wine bottle is empty by the time Marcus finally works up the courage to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

“I don’t want you to go.”

You knew this would be coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier. You avert your gaze, instead focusing on his large hand wrapped around yours and the windshield wiper motion of his thumb tracing back and forth over your palm. No one’s touch has ever sent such electric tingles through your nervous system the way his does.

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing at all.

“Look, I…” He takes a deep breath and straightens his spine a little bit, hand leaving yours to gently cup your chin. He forces you to look him in the eyes as he breaks your heart. “I think this could really be something, if we gave it a shot.”

You haven’t lied to him yet, and you don’t plan to start now. “I… I think it could, too. If I didn’t have to go back.”

“Don’t go back then.” There’s a firmness to his voice, but it couldn’t be any more obvious that he’s begging if he actually got down on his knees. “Stay here with me. We’ll figure this out. Just… don’t go.”

And here–with his earnest eyes on yours and his gentle, loving touch on your skin–it’s easy to pretend that it’s that simple.

He takes you back to your hotel room and sheds you easily out of your dress. As cliche as it sounds, it’s not just sex this time. Things that it’s too early to say are buried deep within every kiss, every thrust. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and looks deeply into your eyes while he fills you and you’ve never felt so overwhelmingly connected.

The thud of his heartbeat is insistent in your ear as you come down from your high–so calming, so heartbreaking. You lay on his chest while his breathing evens out and soak up these last few moments of bliss. And then, once you’re sure he’s sound asleep, you carefully worm out of his grip. There’s one more thing you have to do before you go back to New York.

Loud, insistent ringing pulls Marcus from the depths of sleep. He tries to ignore it and go back to sleep, but now that his senses are alert, the sound in combination with bright Saturday morning sunlight won’t allow him the luxury. He presses his face deeper into the pillow that he’s somehow wound himself around in his sleep, but that damned ringing won’t stop.

He sits up slowly and tries to rub the sleep from his eyes–and that’s when he notices the empty sheets next to him. Your side of the bed is long cold, and he knows. Before he even sees the note on the dresser and your room key next to it, he knows you’re gone.

He finds his trousers discarded halfway between the bed and the door and pulls his blaring phone out of the pocket.

“The gallery got hit sometime early this morning. They took everything. Every goddamn piece. You need to get here now.”

His body moves on autopilot as he pulls yesterday’s clothes back on, fingers numb to all sensation as they work to button his shirt. This can’t be happening. It can’t be you.

He notices the note on the dresser as he’s threading his belt through the loops of his trousers, and his gut twists with a sickening sense of foreboding.

I really did fall for you, Marcus. But nothing good starts in a getaway car.

He’s not sure if you knew who he was the whole time and this whole thing was calculated, or if you just got lucky. He doesn’t want to believe you’re that cunning and cruel. He wants to believe that this is just a misunderstanding, that you’re out for ice or something and you’ll walk back through the door at any moment.

But you don’t.

The note is enough of a confession for him. He’ll have the power of the FBI on his side to find you–and he will find you. What he’ll do when he does, he’s not sure. He guesses he’ll know when he sees you.

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[sirowsky]

The Secret Lake

Happy Birthday, my Love!

@lucrezia-thoughts

Don't think I forgot about you, my darling wife, I have a big dose of your husband ready for you, should you feel the need for some lovable fluff and happiness! I hope you've had a wonderful day, and if you haven't, I hope this helps. All my love, always --J

Warnings: Marcus Pike x female reader (no physical description), some mild insecurity from both characters, otherwise just fluff central. First date-type themes. Kissing happens.

You're looking for a place to cool off during a heatwave, and remembers hearing about a secluded spot that a colleague of yours might know how to find. The hitch is that you're pretty sure he barely even knows who you are.

Word Count: 3630 Author's Masterlist

   It’s blazing hot outside, and you’re desperate for some cool water to dip into, but you know the beach is gonna be packed today and you’re not in the mood for battling sand getting into everything you own.    Anakin was right about that one.

   You know there’s supposed to be a really nice lake somewhere inland, within an hour’s drive, but you don’t know how to find it, and it’s apparently next to impossible to locate, in between high cliffs, unless you have a guide.    There’s one person you know that’s been there, but he’s not someone you socialize with, ordinarily. Which is a shame, because he’s the nicest guy you’ve ever met. Not that you’d spent enough time with him to make a full assessment, and you doubt he’d even remember you after just a casual introduction at the office, months ago.    You’re just a secretary, working for his boss, and while you see him all the time, he passes your desk with a polite smile, but never really looking at you. That’s the curse of being a secretary, even when you’re not the-mouse-in-the-corner-type, you become a part of the décor, and eventually people stop noticing you.

   His number is in your phone, though. You’ve needed to message him a few times for work, to let him know that your boss had to reschedule something, so perhaps he would have you in his as well and would recognize the caller ID.    Screw it. If he doesn’t pick up then no harm done, and if he does and doesn’t remember you or doesn’t feel like helping you out, then at least you won’t have to wonder anymore if he notices you.    The phone trembles slightly when you listen to the rings, part of you hoping that he doesn’t answer, and another part dearly wishing that he does.

   “Pike.”

   The call connects and his voice comes through after seven rings, just when you’d been about to hang up, and you scramble to re-center your brain and remember what the hell you called him for.

   “Oh, hi… I’m sorry…”

   Your mind goes blank and for a moment you’re about to panic, but then a soft chuckle comes across the line.

   “Are you apologizing for calling or for saying hi? Because you haven’t done anything else to me yet, Daisy.”

   Your chest tightens at the sound of your nickname, given to you by some other colleagues because of the one personal item on your desk: a conserved daisy in a glass frame.    You’ve never told anyone why you have it, only that it’s very important to you, and of course, the mystery soon earned you the name. But you love it.    Shit, he asked you a question, what was it?

   “Uh, I’m just sorry to bother you, Agent Pike.”

   “Marcus, please. We’re both off duty. Now, what can I do for you?”

   “Right. Well, I was just wondering if you could give me some directions to the secret lake? I remember hearing you mention to another agent that you’d been there, and I’m just dying to cool down somewhere that isn’t the beach.”

   “Yeah, I’ve been there, but there’s no way I can describe the route well enough that you’ll find it on your own.”

   “Oh. That’s okay, thank you anyway, I really am sorry if I interrupted something.”

   “Hey, I wasn’t done. Will you stop trying to convince me that you’re bothering me, and let me tell you what I’m thinking?”

   “Sorry. Again.”

   You hear him huff on the other end, and you’re not sure if it’s in annoyance or bemusement.

   “I can’t describe it to you, but I’d happily show you the way.”

   You nearly fall over with shock, even though you’re sitting down.

   “Seriously? I mean, you absolutely don’t have to…”

   “Daisy. Stop. I’ll pick you up outside your apartment in 20. Okay?”

   He-… he knows where you live?

   “O-Okay.”

   You quickly pack your things and throw together some snacks before heading down to wait for him by the road, partly in the interest of saving time, but also because you’re not sure how you feel about him potentially seeing the inside of your apartment. It’s small so even if he only stood in the doorway, he’d see most of it, and it’s a mess.    Sure enough, he’s there within the promised time, and you quickly put your things in the backseat before getting into the front passenger seat, as he stops by the curb, breathing a little easier once you’re in the cool airconditioned space.

   You almost audibly gulp as you take in the sight of him, while reaching over to fasten your seatbelt. Because you’ve only ever seen him in the practically trademarked FBI-suit they all wear, but now he’s in a white button-down cotton shirt with short sleeves, that fits loosely over his tanned chest, the top three buttons undone.    And he’s wearing light blue bathing shorts, clearly intending to enjoy a day at the lake as well, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s meeting someone else there, or something. Because he can’t be about to just hang out with you, that’s… inconceivable.

   “Hey. Nice to see you outside the office.”

   “Hi. This is so kind of you, Marcus, I didn’t even think you’d pick up, much less actually come and show me the way.”

   “Why would you think I wouldn’t pick up?”

   “Just because we don’t know each other. I figured you’d assume that it was about work and just ignore it, since you’re on vacation.”

   “Huh. I didn’t even think of that. But I was really glad that it was about this, because I was thinking about going out there myself, but it didn’t sound like much fun to go alone.”

   “But you must have people you could’ve called, friends or family. I’m sure there’s always someone who wants to hang out with you.”

   He smiles at that, but it’s a jaded kind of smile.

   “Believe it or not, but doing this job makes it hard to keep up a social life of any sort. All my friends are fellow agents, and while I enjoy spending time with them, it’s always work. Even when we’re off duty, that’s where the conversations go, because that’s what we all have in common, and it’s just not healthy, you know?    I’m bad enough at leaving work at work as it is, I don’t need enablers dragging me back to it in my spare time.”

   You feel bad hearing that, since you’re work-related for him too, and now you don’t know what to say, because you want to apologize but you know he won’t appreciate it.    You stare out the passenger side window, watching city traffic and built-up areas fade away into wilderness as he drives further out of town.

   “Hey, why so quiet, Daisy?”

   “Uh, just enjoying the calm. My neighbours aren’t the quiet types.”

   “Truth. But not all of it. What’s bothering you?”

   You take a breath and glance at him, and damnit… Why did he have to be the most beautiful man in the world?

   “You said you wanted to get away from work.”

   He connects the dots effortlessly; you can see it in his body language even from the corner of your eye.

   “Okay. Clearly, we need to get something straight here.    When I talk about work what I mean is active cases. Leads, interrogations, raids, research, meetings, paperwork, bureaucracy.    You are not work to me, Daisy, you’re the sunshine that sits in an otherwise grey and dull building wearing colours and offering a dazzling smile to anyone that passes.    You’re always helpful, you never seem to have a bad day, or if you do, you’re a master at hiding it. You’re never too far away from a quip or a well-phrased come-back and there is nothing about you that reminds me of work.    So will you please stop trying to tell yourself that you’re gonna somehow ruin my day, because I’m really looking forward to spending some time with you.”

   He pauses and waits for a reply, but you have no idea what to say.    That entire little speech tells you that you’ve been wrong about him this whole time. He does notice you. A lot more than you ever would’ve thought. And while that does boost your confidence significantly, it also makes you terribly nervous.    He doesn’t wait for you to try and gather your thoughts before he continues, making you wonder if he’s nervous too.

   “I was slow to answer today because I did expect it to be work. But when I saw that it was you… I was excited. I am excited. I’d like to get to know you.”

   By now, you’re staring at him, attempting to absorb that he might actually be interested in you, but you soon realize that that’s gonna take a while, and he needs some reassurance.

   “Thank you. I’d really like to get to know you too.”

   He smiles widely, that perfect dimple on full display, and just minutes later, he turns onto a dirt-track that ends after about a mile, where he parks on a patch of dirt next to some boulders.

   “Alright, we’ll have to hoof it from here.”

   “How far is it?”

   “Not very. Maybe twenty minutes. And this is the only way in, so unless someone hiked here, it looks like we got the place to ourselves.”

   You try not to show how that makes the butterflies in your stomach go bananas, while you put on your backpack and fall in behind him.    It’s not the easiest trek you’ve ever done. It’s rocky and requires some light climbing for most of the way, finally making you see why this has never become a popular hangout.    But once you get past the rocky part, you’re suddenly engulfed by thick vegetation that you have to wrestle your way through, until it abruptly just ends, and you’re there.

   Tall cliffs that are vertical in their drop against the water, but also very steep on the opposite side, encircle a small lake full of clear blue water. The entryway brings you to a huge flat rock that’s half submerged, and that’s as much beach as there is.    Birds are singing all around you, actual butterflies flittering about everywhere, tiny flowers growing where tree-roots have stretched into the water above the rocks, bringing other seeds along with them.    It’s magical. But still just as hot as the city had been and now you’ve been climbing too.

   “It’s spring water, filtered through mineral deposits underground, that’s why it’s so clear-…”

   He cuts himself off when you run past him and dive headfirst into the cool liquid, having clearly not noticed that you’ve already stripped your top and shorts off and aren’t all that interested in why the water is special.    But by the time you breach the surface again, he’s already discarded his shirt and is on his way to join you, that big smile firmly in place right up until he dives.    The water’s cold compared to the air, shockingly so, but it only takes moments for your body to appreciate it and for the haze that the heat somehow drugs your mind with, to get blown away.

   You don’t wait for him to reach you before you start leisurely swimming towards the other side of the pool, but he catches up to you in no time, falling in next to you but staying quiet as he can see that you’re admiring the place still.    At the far end of the lake, you’re surrounded by cliffs, creating a chamber of sorts, that echoes every sound, even the tiny splashes from your swim-strokes, seeming to amplify the sounds, which fascinates you.    Turning back, you dive underwater and practice holding your breath while you try to map the bottom, only to find that it’s way too far down for you to even guess at the depth of the water.

   Since the flat rock is partly submerged, there’s no trouble getting back out, you just swim until you can put your feet down on it and then walk up until you reach the dry area.    Marcus is right behind you, but he lingers in knee-deep water for a while as you go to your bag to pull out your towel and lay it out on the smooth stone, and it’s not until you’ve finished that you notice that he’s watching you.

   “How’s the view, Mr. Pike?”

   He makes no attempt to conceal the fact that he’s been eyeing you, only smiling again as you challenge him.

   “Oh, it’s gorgeous, Miss Daisy.”

   Playing along (and seizing the opportunity) you ogle him right back, from his hair down to his knees, and then back up, slowly, taking in every detail, before landing on his suddenly slightly self-conscious eyes.

   “I’ll have to agree with you on that.”

   He chuckles and runs a hand through his dripping wet hair, lingering at his neck while his head dips forwards to hide his embarrassment, all while he slowly makes his way out of the water and comes to pull out his own towel.    After settling down next to you, you both fall into an odd kind of silence. Not pressured or uncomfortable, really, but… a bit like there’s a piece of glass between you that neither of you know how to break. So, you just sit there, quietly soaking up the sun and stealing sideways glances at each other.

   Until you remember your snacks and reach into your bag to pull out an assortment of fruits, crackers, cheese and nuts, and the moment you invite him to dig into the food, the glass brakes.    You talk about a hundred different things, only once or twice straying into work-territory by sharing funny anecdotes or trivia about colleagues. But mostly just telling each other about things you like or have experienced or things that are just memorable, even if they are largely insignificant.

   And before you know it, the sun has dipped below the ridge of the cliffs, the food is all eaten, your bathing suits are dry and the magic of the day is running out, like Cinderella’s chiming clock, forcing you back to reality.    His eyes meet yours, and you both know that it’s time to go, but neither of you say it.    The quiet settles back in between you while you get dressed and pack up, but before you leave, you turn back for one last look out over the lake, feeling like it has somehow shared a secret with you.

   The climb back to the car is even harder on the way down, and without Marcus, you never would’ve managed it. But you get back unscathed and pack yourselves into the vehicle, driving back with that same silence sitting like some unseen third passenger between you, disturbing the zen.    He stops in the parking lot outside your building this time, in the overnight spots, but he leaves the engine running, as if trying to showcase that he won’t stay unless you ask.

   “So… I had a lot of fun today.”

   “Me too. I’m really glad I called you, Marcus.”

   “Please feel free to call me again. Anytime.”

   “Same to you.”

   He smiles, but it’s uncertain now. Tentative.    You bite your bottom lip and throw a look out of the windscreen, trying to decide if you have the courage to kiss him goodbye, or if he’ll even want you to. You feel like he probably won’t mind at least, but there’s no way to know unless you ask or just go for it.

   “What are you thinking, Daisy?”

   The nickname shifts your thoughts, to a different time but oddly similar situation, and you smile warmly as the fond memory plays out before your eyes for the ten thousandth time.

   “Would you like to know why I keep that flower?”

   Looking back at him, you see his smile deepen, and he nods.

   “It was given to me by a girl named Penny when I was just six years old.    She was this rowdy little thing that used to get us into trouble, but she had the most adorable smile and almost always managed to charm our way out of it too.    One day, out of the blue, while we were hiding in the middle of a meadow, she kissed me. And not some little peck either, a long, warm kiss that gave me goosebumps. My very first one.”

   His eyes have turned into enamoured puddles and the most enchanting smile adorns every angle of his features, making your insides purr.

   “Then she pulled back, picked the first flower she saw and tucked it behind my ear, and that was the last time I ever saw her. She moved away the next day.    I keep the flower because it reminds me that love is ageless. I look at it and I still remember those goosebumps, that feeling that something very special was happening, and it makes me smile, even on my bad days.”

   “So, then you do have bad days. Damn. That means I can’t read you as well as I thought, you’ve been deceiving me all this time.”

   “Marcus… who the hell doesn’t have bad days? Of course I do, I just keep a professional mask on.”

   “I know, but that’s what makes it so impressive, because I genuinely have tried, but I’ve never been able to tell. Not once. And I detect deception for a living.”

   That gives you an idea. Maybe a terrible one, but if you’re ever gonna go for it…    Utilizing his apparent inability to tell what you’re thinking, you keep your face in the same comfortable joyful expression you’ve had for most of the afternoon, not giving him any hint as to what you’re about to do.    Taking a page from Penny, you don’t give him a chance to pull away, swiftly leaning over the center console to slot your lips against his, forcing your hands to stay in your lap so that you won’t reach up and try to hold him in place, in case he doesn’t want this.

   Once he catches on, though, he all but surges into the kiss, his own hands showing none of the restraint yours have managed, coming up to cradle your face while he completely takes over control, licking at your lips, begging for more. And when you let him in, he instantly softens again, inviting you as much as he devours you.    Your hands tangle in his hair, tug at his shoulders, utterly unable to get enough of him and suddenly hating the confines of the car making it impossible to get closer.    But then he shifts his left arm, and accidentally hits the horn, the sharp signal startling you both into pulling back, and you chuckle breathlessly.

   “I’ve wanted to do that all day.”

   His eyes are bottomless pits of lust now, but there’s so much affection in there too that it makes you crave him just as much.

   “Daisy… I’ve wanted to do that for fucking months.”

   “You couldn’t have given me even the tiniest hint of that? I thought you didn’t even know my name, much less my nickname.”

   He’s a little taken aback by that, cocking his head to the side and studying you closely.

   “I’m sorry. You’re right, I haven’t shown you anything but my own mask as well.”

   “You know what, Marcus… I think we kinda suck at this.”

   That makes him laugh in earnest, and it infects you, but also effectively wipes any and all remaining tension away between you.    And suddenly you don’t care what state your apartment’s in, or that the neighbours are terrible, you just want him to stay.

   “You wanna come in?”

   Something very… expansive, emanates from him as he hears that. As though a whole new world has opened up and become available to him, and his eyes sparkle when he reaches for you, kissing you again, just as fervently.    And when he breaks it, he stays close enough that his lips still brush against yours with each word he says.

   “Yes. Yes, I really, really do. Which is why I should leave.”

   You know that he’s right, that it’s careless to move too fast, that it can wreck things before they’ve even begun, but you still whimper and feel a pout settle into your face.    He tries to kiss it away, and he almost succeeds, except that it comes right back as soon as he pulls away again, which makes him laugh more.

   “How about you come to my place for dinner tomorrow. My neighbours are quiet.”

   “Done.”

   You both giggle at how fast and decisively that reply comes out, and then he gets out of the car to help you with your bag, even though it’s just a backpack.    You take it and start walking towards your door, but then turn so that you’re backing the last few steps, letting you look at him where he’s leaned against the back bumper of the car.

   “Text me your address, Mr. Pike. Some of us don’t snoop in other people’s personnel files.”

   His eyebrows shoot up at that, clearly not expecting you to have figured that out, and you smile triumphantly. Because he could’ve just looked you up online, but something tells you that he probably thinks it’s less creepy if he just looks at a file, he does that all the time.

   “I peeked. Just one little peek.”

   “Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow, beautiful.”

   His gaze takes a trip around the parking lot while he smiles bashfully at your compliment, and then he pushes off the bumper and heads for the driver’s door, giving you one last lingering, craving look before he steps in and drives off.

THE END

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

Tagging some lovely people, just because.

@idreamofboobear @deadhumourist @lucrezia-thoughts @nolanell @tintinn16 @bison-writes @tiffanyleen @sarahjkl82-blog @la-lunaluna @tanzthompson @cannedsoupsucks @toomanystoriessolittletime @sj-draws00 @agingerindenial @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @shsoba05 @thisshipwillsail316 @f0rever15elf @dornish-queen @herefordistractions @littlemisspascal @sewmanystitchssewlittletime @ophelialoveshandsomemen @myfavpedrothings @ezras-channel-rat @winter-fox-queen

[too-many-baes]

The Man That Stole Christmas

So this is my contribution to #tmsecretsanta2022 and I am gifting to @lizzybennets so a very Merry (belated) Christmas to you❤️ I wrote what came to mind so I hope you like it (even though it is on the angsty side)🎄

December 23rd, two days before Christmas. Most people were already at home with their families. Some might be making eggnog with a grin on their faces. Others might desperately be trying to keep the children away from the gifts under the tree for two more nights.

For the CIA it was just a regular night. Crime didn’t stop just because it was Christmas, so neither did they.

“So.” Jane said from his position staring up at the ceiling from the couch, using the word as if it were a complete sentence in and of itself. “Who’s getting coal in their stocking?” Although not particularly unfunny of a statement it still failed to pull any laughs from the group as their heads remained on their work.

“Well”, eventually split the silence, the crew one by one turning their heads to look at the source of the sound, “no coal. The opposite really. Craig is spending Christmas with me and my family this year.”

“That’s nice.”

“That’s quick.” Agents Cho and Rigby’s answers, while in unison, could not have been any more different in tone. Choosing to focus on the positivity Grace responded to Kimball as if he had been the only one to answer.

“It is. My parents can’t wait to have him over.”

“They’ve met then?” Grace nodded at Kimballs question.

“Just the once.” A not uncomfortable silence filled the room as one by one heads turned back to their desks.

“That’s quick.” Rigby’s repetition came too late to sound natural and completely lacked the nonchalance and ease he had intended. He sounded jealous and bitter, and he hated that his tone had so easily betrayed how he felt.

It was no secret to his team now that he hadn’t exactly had a happy childhood growing up. Having a father involved with a gang sounded exactly as unpleasant on a growing boy as it was, and as much as he usually tried to be chipper and happy, he had no problems admitting he was a complete and total grinch.

Christmas had never been made a big deal of in his household, it was like any other day where Wayne wished that his father would stay out as long as possible so he and his mother could enjoy the calm he left behind while they could. There was no tree, no gifts, no cookies baking in an oven while a hallmark movie played in the next room. Christmas was miserable. Until Wayne met Grace.

The first year she had joined the team and Christmas had rolled around he had been ready and prepared to be his usual self, no holiday cheer, no participating in office secret santas, and definitely no Christmas parties. Grace had had enough excitement and joy for the both of them and he couldn’t help it. For the first time ever he had joined in on secret santa, getting a new mug for Jane and receiving a tie from Cho. He smiled when he heard Grace humming along to Michael Buble and eagerly listened as she told him how she would be going to midnight mass with her family, as she always did, before having a sleep in and doing presents when everybody woke up.

The second year Grace was on the team they had not long started dating, so it was too soon to spend a Christmas with the Van Pelt’s, however much he had wanted to say yes when Grace had invited him. It would be too much, too soon. Next year, he had thought to himself. Next year maybe he’ll finally have a happy Christmas and he could hang up the grinch outfit he wore like a shield for once.

Well, this was year three, and it couldn’t have turned out any more different than what he had imagined. Instead of complimenting Mrs. Van Pelt on her ham while he and Mr. Van Pelt shared a whiskey he was having to sit in his office with his co-workers and listen to the love of his life excitedly share her Christmas plans as if she didn’t realise that it was supposed to be with him, not somebody else. It felt wrong, and it hurt Wayne more than a little that it seemed Grace hadn’t batted an eyelash that she was giving his Christmas to another man.

“I guess it is a bit quick.” Grace relented, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear that Wayne wished he could fish back out and twirl around his finger like he used to.

“No,” Wayne started to backstep, guilty that he had brought her mood down, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes you did.” She responded without missing a beat. Because of course he had meant it like that, how else could you mean it. “But it’s okay.” He opened his mouth to apologise but a knock at the doorway had him snapping his mouth shut.

“Craig.” Grace beamed, jumping out of her seat and hustling to him so she could be wrapped in the embrace he immediately offered. “You’re early.”

“I know,” he punctuated with a kiss to her forehead that had Wayne’s nose wrinkling involuntarily, “but I figured I’d see what the chances would be of you sneaking off early.” She murmured that she’d check before she scurried off and knocked on Lisbon’s door, quickly entering when she was given the okay.

The group all exchanged merry Christmas’s back and forth, the pleasantries stopping when it was clearly Wayne’s turn. Try as he might to swallow his pride and utter the easy two words everybody else had said he couldn’t bring himself. How was he was supposed to wish joy to the man who’d stolen his Christmas? He offered a tight-lipped smile and a curt nod and was let off the hook from anything more as Grace hurried back over, excitedly exclaiming that she could go. With every item Grace packed away he could feel his blood running hotter until he swore the tips of his ears were burning as Grace shrugged on her jacket.

“Merry Christmas everybody, I’ll see you all in a few days.” She said genuinely with a bright smile and twinkle in her eye that Wayne couldn’t believe hadn’t dimmed at all with all the things she’d seen since starting this job.

“Merry Christmas.” His choked out version of the wish had been lost on everyone in the room, the volume of the chorus cancelling his voice out, but Grace had heard him as clearly as if he had yelled it in a silent room. Her eyes snapped to his as she lowered her waving hand back down to her side. Craig’s arm looped around hers had her body moving out of the room, but just before she turned to follow she offered up a small, genuine smile. It had been just for him, his eyes only, and he knew it, his heart skipping a beat at the action.

As the minutes trickled on, one by one agents started packing up for the night, until he was in the unique position of being the last one remaining in the office with Jane. As Rigsby knew he would more than likely be sleeping in the office he decided to cut his losses and pack up for the night.

“Wayne.” The assumed sleeping man had spoken just as Wayne was about to exit the room. He turned around to find the blonde man peeking at him out of one eye.

“Yeah?” He slowly opened his other eye, examining the mans face as if debating whether or not he should say what he had stopped him to say.

“You know it hurts her as much as it hurts you right?” He finally asked after taking in a large breath.

“I doubt it.” Wayne responded snidely, not caring any more at the immaturity that had leached into his voice.

“You shouldn’t.” Jane responded, his tone lower and softer in response to the bite in Wayne’s voice. “It’s as obvious as the nose on her face.” Wayne thought it over, knowing that Jane was seldom wrong on matters such as this and wanting nothing more than to believe him as he usually did.

“Goodnight Jane.” He stated with a dejected slap of his palm upon the doorway. He was met with a disappointed sigh but opted not to hang around and hear the lecture that might follow, instead making his way downstairs and into his car as fast as possible.

The car radio started as he pulled out of the CIA car lot, the sound of Bublé’s ‘White Christmas’ drifting though the speakers. He tsked to himself, reaching to change the station but stopping just short of the button.

He didn’t know what compelled him to do it but he let his hand drift back to the steering wheel, allowing himself to relive the memory of Grace’s humming those few years ago. He felt a prickling in his eyes and tightening in his throat, making his knuckles turn slightly whiter against the steering wheel.

As he continued to listen he kept thinking about Grace and the Christmas they could have, no, should have had. As the song came to a finish, the last notes dancing in his ears he promised himself one thing.

Even if it meant letting another man have his Christmas’s for however many years that it may take, he promised he himself he would never ruin a Christmas for Grace. No more snide comments, no more jealousy, no more Wayne ‘The Grinch’ Rigsby. Just because his Christmas had been stolen didn’t mean he would let himself steal Grace’s.

[enbyjane]

the truth is (a perspective on love)

context: edit based off a personal conversation with @onlineproblems about parental love, unconditional love and the love we deserve bonus: her wise perspective:

more bonus:

[chasingmidnights]

A Collection: One Shots

Random Fandom one-shots with various characters to enjoy! (Most of these will remain single parts, unless I feel the need to write a part two.)

Loki One-Shots:

Read to Me ~ Avengers!Loki x reader

If We Ever Meet Again ~ Loki x Asgardian!reader

Ransom Drysdale One-Shots:

In a World of Black & White ~ Ransom Drysdale x reader; soulmate au

Bucky Barnes One-Shots:

Feels Like Dying, Part One & Part Two ~ Avengers!Bucky Barnes x reader; ft Leah from TFATWS

Better Boyfriend ~ toxic!Bucky Barnes x reader; ft. Natasha Romanoff

Ari Levinson One-Shots:

A Blue Christmas ~ Part two to "I'll Think I'll Collapse Right a Here", which can be found in my Tales of Whumpee Newbie Masterlist or here.

Bad Liar ~ coffee shop au

Steve Rogers One-Shots:

A Walk Through the Woods ~ Secret relationship au; Sunflower!reader

Carter Baizen One-Shots:

A First Time for Everything ~ Sugar Daddy au

Misc. Random One-Shots:

Once Upon a December ~ No specific pairing; ft. avenger!reader & Tony Stark & Morgan Stark

Just A Perk ~ Obi Wan Kenobi x Jedi apprentice reader; soulmate au

For the Greater Good, Part Two ~ Part One can be found in my Tales of a Whumpee Newbie Masterlist or Here; ft. step-sister!reader of Belle, also OUAT!Rumplestiltskin & Belle

Tiger, Tiger ~ Patrick Jane x agent!reader; The Mentalist AU

Bad At Love ~ toxic!Frank x reader (Sebastian Stan's character from Endings, Beginnings)

Stars ~ No specific pairing; ft. Natasha Romanoff & other Avengers

[wardrobemoments]

s2e21, 18-5-4

[whatsagirltoblogabout]

Teresa Lisbon - Episodes 3.2 - 3.14

A collection of my favourite screenshots from season 3 so far.

[jackalope-of-ink]

I started writing this ficlet several days ago, but I kind of gave up on it. Then I was planning some of my bingo fills and realised a couple of them could help me round out this li’l one-shot. Yay for inspiring prompts!

Here’s the completed fic on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40232853

Summary: There are nights when it catches up to him, the exhaustion of having a mutually twisted interest in a serial killer; there are nights when it catches up to her, the exhaustion of caring about someone who refuses to be cared about; and there are nights when they’re together when it happens. Those few nights, their masks don’t seem quite so secure, the empty floor between them quite so expansive. (1742 words)

I know I’ve been sticking to The Mentalist, but I watched a movie yesterday that I loooved and now I got a few ideas about that…

[pedroscurls]

Hi there! I’m J. Below the “keep reading” line is my ultimate masterlist for the stories I’ve written for Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Pedro Pascal characters! Please note that all stories at 18+ and this list is very long, so if there are any issues with any of the below links, please let me know! 

Happy reading!🫶

1️⃣ = One-shots || ✍ = Multi-chaptered stories / WIP (✍️✅ = complete)

FRANKIE “CATFISH” MORALES (triple frontier)

1️⃣ Always Here For You: Frankie comforts you as you cope with your grief. (Francisco “Catfish” Morales x fem!Reader || part of the pedrostores 1k celebration)

✍ Chance Encounters: You’ve suddenly and tragically lost your best friend and can’t handle the grief. Until four strangers give you a glimmer of hope that things will (and can) get better. (ultimately a story about working through grief with the help of our four boys from Triple Frontier)

1️⃣ Hold My Hand: For years, you have been in love with Frankie. Everyone else saw it, except him, and you never had the courage to tell him how you truly felt. Instead, you stuck by his side even when it hurt. And after Colombia, he hadn’t been the same. You knew he had demons (being a veteran and all), but this… This was different. Would Frankie finally open his eyes and realize that the woman he was meant to be with had been right in front of him all along? (Francisco “Catfish” Morales x fem!Reader)

✍️✅ Third Time’s A Charm: There is history between you and Frankie. In fact, you have both broken up twice and yet, you still seem to find your way back to each other. Could this third chance be the last and final one? (Francisco “Catfish” Morales x fem!Reader)

JAVIER PEÑA (narcos)

1️⃣ All We Are: You and Javier have history and have been in this endless cycle for years, always trying to “one-up” each other, but what happens after a night of steamy, dirty sex that the truth finally comes out? (Javier Peña x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Innocent Eyes: Javier and his partner, Steve Murphy, finally have one night off. So, when they go to a local bar to unwind, Javier certainly wasn’t expecting you to walk through the doors. (Javier Peña x fem!Reader)

JOEL MILLER (the last of us)

✍️✅ Always Been You: You and Joel have become best friends, but as the years pass, you both realize that the love you have for each other goes beyond just “best friends”. Will either of you have the courage to express your true feelings or will you both just remain secretly in love with each other? (no-outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!Reader)

✍️ Broken Souls: What happens when you realize love isn’t enough? And when years later, you meet again that all the pain and heartbreak comes rushing back… Like it never left. (Joel Miller x fem!Reader)

✍️ Dirty Little Secret: When your best friend and his fiancée, Sarah, have their belated engagement party (kicking off their pre-wedding parties), you meet the father of the bride and realize that he’s completely off limits. But you always did like older men, and Joel? Well, maybe he could be your dirty little secret. (age-gap, no-outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Guys Night Out: Tommy takes Joel to a strip club. (Joel Miller pre-apocalypse x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ In Case You Didn’t Know: Joel steps out of his comfort zone and puts his feelings into words the best way he knows how. (Joel Miller x fem!Reader)

✍️✅ One Drunken Night: Reader’s date stands her up, so she decides to stay at the bar anyway. Then, she meets Negan who unravels her entire world. All the while, trying to navigate her relationship with Joel. (Negan x fem!Reader, Joel Miller x fem!Reader, TLOU x TWD crossover)

✍️ The Teacher: You have been on your own for over a year and after Maria saves you and brings you to Jackson, you try and settle in, doing your best to contribute to the community. Though, it doesn’t help that your neighbor, Joel Miller, reminds you of a special person from before Outbreak day. (Joel Miller x fem!Reader)

MARCUS PIKE (the mentalist)

✍️ Second Chances: After Marcus moves to DC - alone - he’s determined to just focus on work. After a failed marriage followed with his failed relationship with Lisbon, Marcus believes that love just isn’t in the cards for him anymore. Until you move in next door. (Marcus Pike x fem!Reader)

DENNY DUQUETTE (grey’s anatomy)

✍️✅ Dear Maisie: Maisie receives a letter. (Denny Duquette x fem!OC)

✍️✅ Love At First Sight?: Jess meets an unlikely stranger that changes her life forever. (Denny Duquette x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Our Confession: Denny has a confession to make. (Denny Duquette x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Our Happy Ending: Denny and Izzie finally have their happy ending. (Denny Duquette x Izzie Stevens)

1️⃣ Our Own ‘Getaway’: Denny notices the change in your demeanor and despite being stuck in a hospital, he decides to comfort you in a way he only knows how. (Denny Duquette x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Reassure Me: After being released from the hospital since his heart transplant, Denny feels a bit self-conscious with his new scar. (Denny Duquette x fem!Reader)

IKE EVANS (magic city)

✍️✅ Fatal Attraction: Diana is newly married to Ben Diamond, also known as The Butcher. However, after meeting Ike Evans, the charming older gentleman of the Miramar Playa, she can’t help but indulge in an intimate relationship with the man. Can she keep this a secret from her dangerous husband? (Ike Evans x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Fever: Ike’s entertainment manager hires a burlesque dancer that catches Ike’s attention. (Ike Evans x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Gender Reveal: Ike and Vera find out the gender of their baby. (Ike Evans x Vera Evans)

1️⃣ Playing with Fire: Your father stays in one of the suites at the Miramar Playa, and the hotel’s owner, caters to his every need. But, when you finally see what this man looks like, you cannot help but tease him every chance you could get. (Ike Evans x fem!Reader)

✍️✅ Sway With Me: Ike, a business professor and hotel owner of the Miramar Playa, meets an unexpected woman that catches his interest. (Ike Evans x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Your Secret’s Safe With Me: Ashton has a secret that only Ike knows. (Ike Evans x male!OC)

JASON CROUSE (the good wife)

1️⃣ I Won’t Give Up: Jason reminds his wife, Jen, just how important and loved she is. (Jason Crouse x OC)

1️⃣ Let Me Make it Up to You: Once at home, waiting for Jason, a burglar enters your home. (Jason Crouse x fem!Reader) 

1️⃣ Let’s Stargaze: After a long day at work, you decide to cook dinner for Jason and your son, Luke, while the two stargaze out in the backyard. (Jason Crouse x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Not What It Seems: Deciding to bring Jason lunch, you weren’t expecting to witness when showing up to his office. (Jason Crouse x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Old Friends: It’s been twenty years since Jason and [Y/N] have seen each other. (Jason Crouse x Reader)

✍️✅ Protect Me: Samantha, a freelance writer, moves to Chicago. She didn’t expect to be a victim of a stalker, but what happens when she seeks professional help from Alicia and Lucca? Then Jason Crouse, the private investigator, comes in and offers his help. (Jason Crouse x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Sunday Funday Surprise: Jason and his daughter, Susie, plan a surprise for Mother’s Day. (Jason Crouse x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Take A Bite: Jason introduces Alicia to something new. || part of jeffreydeanmorganrarechar/ladylorelitany‘s Red Velvet challenge. (Jason Crouse x Alicia Florrick)

1️⃣ Teasing is a Fun Game: After a few trysts with Jason, he shows up unexpectedly during your lecture and all you can think of are the intimate moments you two shared. (Jason Crouse x Reader)

1️⃣ The Newest Family Addition: Jason and Jen tell Susie the good news, but as the months progress and Jen’s baby bump begins to show, Susie becomes anxious that her parents will replace her. (Part 2 to Sunday Funday Surprise).  (Jason Crouse x fem!OC)

1️⃣ The Other Sister: You accidentally walk in your older sister, Alicia’s, apartment to find her newest affair naked on her bed. (Jason Crouse x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ You Are Mine: Jason reveals his jealous side. (Jason Crouse x Reader)

MAX (the resident)

1️⃣ Coffee Date: Since Max wasn’t going to make the first move, you take him by surprise and ask him out for coffee. (Max x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Similar Personalities: Max needs some comforting and turns to you to make him feel better. What he didn’t expect was for you to find out his secret, and more than willing to partake in one of his fantasies. (Max x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ The Breakthrough: What if Juliet didn’t stop Max? Would that have changed everything? (Max x Juliet)

1️⃣ You’re Safe With Me: Max didn’t expect for you, the new tenant, to be newly divorced with two young children. However, the more time he spent with you, the more he realized that you had taken him out of the walls and shown him a world that he always knew he could live. (Max x fem!Reader)

NEGAN SMITH (the walking dead)

1️⃣ A Broken Facade: Negan gives Father Gabriel his confession. In doing so, a vivid memory enters his mind about the one person he failed to protect. || part of flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash writing challenge. (Negan x Lucille)

1️⃣ A Flood of Old Memories: While singing in the shower, Negan overhears the song that brings back old memories that he has tried to suppress for so long. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ A Hands-On Demonstration: Negan shows you just how it’s like to be pleasured by a real man. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ A Private Dance: As a new dancer, you try and familiarize yourself with the regulars, listening to the other women’s advice. However, your eye catches a man in a leather jacket sitting towards the back of the room. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ A Proper Thank You: An underestimated, young Savior saves Negan’s life and he repays her the only way he knows how. (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ An Unwanted Flashback: After Negan makes Carl face down onto the pavement, flashbacks from the Claimers enter the young boy’s mind and goes into a mental breakdown. (Negan x Carl)

1️⃣ Baby, I’m Back!: After his month-long supply run, you and Negan show each other just how much you missed one another. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Coach Negan: Coach Negan takes a liking to you and after he witnesses the bullying that you endure, he shows you just exactly how special you are. (Negan x fem!Reader)

✍️✅ Coach Negan: You always loved sports. Most specifically, basketball. After deciding to join the new season after a very embarrassing last season, you believe that you could change the team’s bad luck and bring them to the championships, but you weren’t expecting the team’s coach to be as good looking as him. It was going to be tougher than you planned. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Control: You and Negan have the same temperament, and when you both get into an argument, it is always a battle of power and control that ultimately leads to angry, rough, dominant sex. In this instance, who wins the argument? (Negan x fem!Reader

1️⃣ Goodbye My Lover: Negan knows what’s to come, but he can’t seem to come to terms with it. Lucille was the woman he loved, despite everything he had done || Inspired by “Here’s Negan” (Negan x Lucille)

1️⃣ Hurt Me: You finally have enough of Negan’s behavior towards you. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ I Don’t Wanna Live Forever: Negan realizes the truth to the saying, “you never know what you have until you’ve lost it.” When you, one of his wives, decide to leave him, you wonder if you’ve made the right decision and Negan starts to question if he should have let you go in the first place. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ I Know Your Secret: After a year from being accepted into The Sanctuary, you had become one of Negan’s top Saviors. During a night of fun with the rest of your fellow Saviors, Negan drops in and decides to tease you for hiding such an “important” secret. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ I Truly Am Sorry: Witnessing your father’s death broke you and the one man that has been haunting your nightmares finally show up for the first pick-up. (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ I Trust You: Negan asks Mary an important question that will change her entire life. (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ It’s Over: Negan doesn’t understand that your affair with him is over. You, however, had enough and finally lose control || part of @embracetheapocalypsewithme‘s 400 Follower Negan Challenge. (Negan x fem!Reader)

✍️✅ Just the Three of Us: You meet Negan and Simon at a bachelor party and realize a hunger you never knew you had. What happens when you finally are able to have each of them and then suddenly, the world collapses? (Negan x fem!Reader x Simon)

1️⃣ Let Me Take Care of You: After sorting out the supplies from a successful run on a hot, summer’s day, you accidentally cut yourself after opening a box with your knife. Negan takes notice and decides to take care of it himself. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Let’s Make A Deal: After the deaths of Glenn and Abraham, Rick and the rest of the group have been on edge. Hannah didn’t know what she had gotten herself into when joining this group, but she was just about to find out what had everyone working their asses off. Negan shows up and offers her a deal that she cannot refuse. (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ My Not-So Little Girl: Pre-apocalypse AU. Negan gives his daughter, Casey, advice on how to drive and it gets out of hand. || Part of flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash writing challenge. (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Now, What Do We Have Here?: You have been living in the Sanctuary for two months now and neither men showed any interest towards you. Though, it is a good thing that you’ve got a vivid imagination and after a long day at work, you decide to let out some steam. (Negan x fem!Reader x Simon)

✍️✅ One Drunken Night: Reader’s date stands her up, so she decides to stay at the bar anyway. Then, she meets Negan who unravels her entire world. All the while, trying to navigate her relationship with Joel. (Negan x fem!Reader, Joel Miller x fem!Reader, TLOU x TWD crossover)

1️⃣ Our First Night: Lara has a big crush on the leader of the Sanctuary, Negan. Tonight, though, she finds out just exactly how mutual the feelings are. (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Save Me: Rick and Shane receive a call about a domestic disturbance, but so did Negan and Simon. (Rick x Shane x fem!Reader x Negan x Simon)

1️⃣ Straight for the Castle: King Ezekiel’s daughter, “Princess” Ramona, has a plan to overthrow her father and take over the Kingdom. When her plan finally goes through, Negan shows up at the gates of the Kingdom while her father was on a supply run. (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Talk Dirty to Me: You can’t help but be attracted your leader, to your Savior, Negan. What happens when he brings you back to his office? Will it finally happen? (Negan x fem!OC)

✍️✅ The Moon: Luna, a shy and timid woman, encounters Negan who is the complete opposite. Negan tries to break her out of her shell, but will it work? It was going to be tough, especially since he reminds Luna of her late husband… And not in a good way. (Negan x fem!OC) 

1️⃣ The Physical: Going to the doctor’s have always been a big fear of yours and now that you were waiting for your doctor to enter the room, he walks in with a large grin and deep dimples || part of noodlescupcakes 1st Writing Challenge. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ The Proposal: @a-girl-interupted​ requested: “I had an idea of a character with negan where she eventually becomes his/a wife and somehow he realizes how important it would be to her to have an actual proposal and wedding. We dont want to Negan too soft and the details are up to you but I would cry to see this” (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ The Punishment: You hire a lawyer after being wrongfully accused of a crime. However, your lawyer, Negan, has a different way to punish you || pre-apocalypse AU. part of flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash‘s writing challenge. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Unknown Feelings: Negan takes notice of one of the new Saviors during their weekly game night with the rest of the guys. Though, what he doesn’t expect is the feelings that follow… (Negan x male!OC)

1️⃣ You Belong to Me: You didn’t realize what you were getting into after stealing the supplies. However, what you also didn’t expect was to be attracted by the man who ultimately had your fate in his hands. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ You, Doll, Are Special: You and Negan finally give in to one another. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ You’ve Got A Friend in Me: Negan realizes that Fat Joey has a sister. Little does he know, she’s also got a voice of an angel. (Negan x fem!OC)

THE COMEDIAN (watchmen)

1️⃣ A Double Life: Eddie secretly leads a double life, but as his wife, you think it’s time that he hangs up his costume as “The Comedian.” (The Comedian x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Opposites Attract: Can the God of War and the Goddess of Love and Beauty – both opposite sides of the spectrum – find a way to meet in the middle? || part of jeffreydeanneganstrash 1k writing challenge. (The Comedian x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Unsteady: Eddie turns to you for some stress relief. (The Comedian x fem!Reader)

[katareyoudrilling]

Marcus Pike Masterlist (The Mentalist)

Series

Movies with Marcus, Completed Series, 5.8k words

Marcus Pike x Female Reader Summary: You are assigned a case with Marcus Pike and discover a mutual attraction and love for classic movies.

Your Assigned FBI Agent is a Secret Freak, Completed Series co-written with @just-here-for-the-moment, 7.3k words

Marcus Pike x Female Reader Summary: What if Marcus Pike saw your internet search history?

Couples Getaway, Completed Series, 6k words

Marcus Pike x Female Reader and Dave York x Carol Summary: Partner swapping adventures with Marcus and Dave

The Sweepstakes, Ongoing Series

Porn Star Marcus Pike x Female Reader Summary: A collection of one-shots featuring various Pedro-boys in a Porn Star AU. Feeling down about your dating life, you enter for a chance to win a night with a porn star. Will it be as good as you hope?

One-shots

Zero ✂️, Drabble, 225 words

Marcus Pike x Female Reader Summary: The drabble that launched Vasectomy Kink

Shared Document, One-shot, 1.9k

Marcus Pike x Female Reader Summary: An accidental cut/paste reveals your secret hobby.

All About the Bass, One-shot, 5.2k

Orchestra Marcus Pike x Female Reader Summary: Looking for a fresh start, Marcus pulls his double bass out of retirement and joins a community orchestra where he may find more than a just a new/old hobby.

Main Masterlist | Taglist Form

[daddy-dins-girl]

Find me on AO3 here

Pedro Boys Alignment Charts Masterlist

FICS:

Triple Frontier 🔞"First Date: Frankie Morales" - Frankie Morales x f!Reader (complete pt. 1 of series) 🔞"Talk Me Down" - Frankie Morales x f!Reader (complete one-shot)

The Equalizer 2 🔞"Kinktober 2023 Pt. 1 - Dave York (Somnophilia, Frottage, Virginity)" - Dave York x f!Reader (complete one-shot) 🔞“Rush” - Dave York x f!Reader (one-shot)

Narcos 🔞"Reparations" - Javier Peña x Christina Jurado (complete)

The Last Of Us 🔞"When You Break" - Joel x Tess (complete pt. 1 of series) 🔞"Safe for Tonight" - Joel x Tess (complete pt. 2 of series) "Framed Around My Heart" - Joel & Ellie (complete)

Wonder Woman 1984 🔞"Kindred" - Maxwell Lord x f!Reader (current WIP)

Crossovers: The Equalizer 2/The Mentalist 🔞"Playdate" - Marcus Pike x f!Reader x Dave York (current WIP)

If you have any prompts/requests for a Pedro Boy fic, feel free to send an ask and I'll try my best :)

[omegaworld]

Since forever [Alpha Chrome x omega reader]

Masterlist

Recommendations

One shot

Word count: 2254

summary: Y/n has been Chorme's best friend since forever, as such she grew up wishing that she and Chrome would be mates, however Chrome grew up in love with Ruri and wished for her to be his mate.

-----

For as long as Y/n can remember she and Chrome have always been friends, something that would be normal since the village wasn't that big, but Y/n and Chrome were best friends. Always together. Both always there for each other. Y/n repeatedly running away from training with her brothers, Kinro and Ginro, to explore and hunt rocks with Chrome. She was there all the time. Taking care of him when sick, cheering him up, always being there no matter what the people in her village said. She loved being with Chrome. It was just so right. She came to love being afraid of thunderstorms, this was because as soon as Chrome found out, he was always there, as soon as a cloud was spotted he was by her side. Offering his embrace as shelter and she loved it.

She was afraid she was being foolish and thought she knew what love was. Yet what else could it be if not love? Because she was always there and if it wasn't love it wouldn't hurt. If it wasn't love it wouldn't hurt like a thousand knives when Chrome trusted her with his passion for Ruri. And it certainly wouldn't bring him to tears as Y/n watched Chrome grow with his passion for Ruri.

But Y/n was always there. And so she listened. She heard how Ruri's eyes looked like the sea and her hair shone in the sun, how lovely she was, how good she smelled, and how angelic her voice was.

It was when the tasting of the plant came that Y/n was flooded with hope, Chrome said it was spicy, but to her it was sweet. They were alpha and omega. They could be mates. That could be why Y/n loved him from such an early age and everything with him seemed so right.

A short hope that was shattered when she heard Ruri say it was sweet. Omega. Anguish flooded her as she saw Chrome's eyes sparkled with joy and hope. He must have been thinking the same thing she was. Alpha and omega. With the difference that the omega was Ruri. And Y/n accepted. Ruri was better suited, she had everything that Y/n didn't, she would be the priestess and next to her Chrome would be the village chief. She would be a better mate, over all because she had something that Y/n would never have. Chrome's heart.

And once again she was there for him. Listening to him fantasize about him and Ruri being mates and the life they could have. Their dreams of the future.

When Senku showed up with a cure for Ruri, Y/n and everyone else gave it their all until she was finally healed. It was after Hyoga's attack on the village that happened, Gen threw out a very direct hint 'Chrome is very dedicated to what he loves. I think any omega what you would like to have as an alpha don't you think Y/n?' it might have seemed like an innocent question to anyone, but Gen was a mentalist. And at that moment she knew that Gen knew of her feelings for Chrome, for a while he didn't mention anything and Y/n was grateful.

It was about a week later when Chrome came to Y/n at night, falling into tears the moment he hugged her, knocking them both down on Y/n's bed. And it stayed that way for a while. With Chrome crying his whole self out while Y/n hugged him, stroking his hair waiting patiently for him to calm down. As they get older, their scents start to develop and Y/n released his scent in waves of comfort to try and help Chrome. When this one calmed down he dropped the bomb 'Ruri and I kissed' He took it all in Y/n to hold back his tears, however before she could ask why he was crying since everyone knew that the kiss between mates just felt right and they would just know Chrome spoke again 'She's not my mate. And it wasn't even necessary for her to tell me. I could feel it myself, it didn't feel right. It didn't feel right in the slightest.' Y/n hugged Chrome more tightly 'I'm sorry Chrome'

It was true, Y/n really was sorry. If Ruri wasn't Chrome's mate then it was probably her. But she knew, it was Ruri that Chrome wanted and mate or not she couldn't compare herself to Ruri at all. She just wanted Chrome to be happy, but because of her fault he never would be. All because she was his mate.

That night Chrome fell asleep in Y/n's arms as she poured out all her love in the form of affection. She would love it if she hadn't been born this way. In the middle of the night Y/n awoke to a burst of scent. It was Chrome. For some reason it had presented itself, unlike omegas that presented themselves in heat alphas simply "exploded in hormones" and about six months later the routine would appear. With that Y/n eventually fell asleep in tears, for with Chrome's scent fully revealed she was sure. Chrome was her mate. But he didn't want her.

As time went on Chrome got better. On the other hand, Y/n began to be teased constantly by Gen. Chrome began to notice how Y/n constantly blushed at something Gen said, all the teasing and how the two eventually grew closer, maybe Gen was her alpha? That thought bothered him deeply and stopping to think about it further he had never speculated about who his best friend's mate would be. It was supposed to be someone from the village as she had once told him that she suspected who it might be, but had never shared who it was. But she only suspected.

Now with Kaseki's granddaughter as Senku's mate they knew that her mate could be from outside the village. It could be Gen.

Chrome decides that he would ask who this person from the village was. Of course the idea wouldn't bother him like the idea of it being Gen.

'Y/n?' Chrome found her near a rocky area near the mountain, she had the hobby of making paints out of flowers and painting on the rocks the most beautiful and varied designs. Sitting down next to her he says 'Can I ask you a question?' 'Sure' she replies without even taking her eyes off the huge rock wall 'Who is your alpha?' Surprising her with his question Y/n runs his finger all over the painting and makes a huge scratch 'I don't know' 'Bullshit. When we were younger you said you suspected who it might be. I wanted to know who you suspected'

'It doesn't matter' 'How does it not matter?' 'It doesn't matter'. Y/n insists and gets up to leave, but Chrome stops her by holding her wrist and insists 'How does it not matter Y/N?' Turning to him with tears in her eyes, some of them already shed she explains 'He want another omega, not me' Chrome frowns 'How do you know that?' 'Because he told me!!So it doesn't matter who it is much less that I love him with everything I have. Because everything I have isn't enough ok? So please let's not talk about this again' Y/n releases herself from his grip and leaves him there with his own thoughts.

What idiot would say he wanted another omega to his own mate?

The change happened over the winter and Chrome just wanted to kick himself for such stupidity. During that time he managed to get over Ruri, however he fell flat on his face by y/n. His best friend who was always there for him, now that there was no longer Ruri in his head it seemed that Y/n was glowing and Chrome realizes everything he couldn't see before. Worst of all was that he could now see that he never loved Ruri and only called her that because he didn't know any stronger feelings. But now he knew and he loved Y/n, his friend who had the world's biggest jerk as her alpha. If he didn't want her then maybe he could have a chance right? Chrome shakes his head to scare those thoughts away. She said she loved him, it would be selfish of him.

Finally one day while working with Senku on the phone a smell filled the air and Chrome knew. Mate. That was all that was going through his mind and with a simple look Senku understood. He had to go. As he made his way back to the village his thoughts were clouded by memories of Y/n.

As he followed the scent was getting closer and closer to his own, as he entered he followed the scent to the room meant for Y/n's rut. He knew very well where it was, as children they played there a lot and even after it was known that she was an omega they spent several nights there just talking and snuggling in each other's arms.

When he walked in and saw her there he was sure and everything finally fell into place in his mind.

Y/n was his mate. The omega he loved was his mate. Not only that, but she had been in love with him for years and all Chrome knew how to do was fantasize about another omega before his mate and even cry in his arms lamenting that his mate was not another. Leaving it to his imagination that he would never want her even if they were mates.

Chrome's tears fall like a river. He could never make up for all the pain he brought her. He didn't even deserve her.

Y/n looks at the door when she is overcome by Chrome's delicious smell. Just the smell of him was enough to soothe her pain. However, another huge kind of pain came when she saw Chrome's tears.

'I'm sorry' Chrome couldn't believe what he was hearing, he was the one who should be apologizing 'If it wasn't for me it would surely be Ruri. I know I'm not the one you want as a mate, but please forgive me. I'm sorry I'm sorry' Y/n's vision was so covered in tears that it didn't allow her to see into the room as she begged for forgiveness.

On the other hand, Chrome had never been so horrified in his life. An idiot was little to describe him. Here he stood before the omega he loved and was his mate, watching her cry and beg for forgiveness for being his mate. But that was it, he loved her and she loved him and even if it wasn't much he would give it his all to at least never see her suffer again.

He soon lands just above her remaining just a few sentiments away from her face and with just as many tears in his eyes 'Forgive me you for not seeing. Until recently I was so blinded by my idiotic passion for Ruri that I couldn't see. I couldn't see that I already had my mate with me all this time, I couldn't see that I was already loved or that I loved her and so I only made her suffer. I made her suffer so much that she believes that not even being my mate. I'm sorry mega. I love you I swear I love you and I am not saying this because you are my mate. I was so bad when I realized I was in love with you and I thought you were not my mate. How the hell could I have thought that? Everything with you was always so right because it was always you'

Chrome closes the gap between them and deposits a soft but passionate kiss on Y/n's lips. And nothing has ever been so right. Leaning his forehead against Y/n's, Chrome smiles 'it feels so right because you are my mate and I love you. I love you for you. I promise, I promise that if you let me I will be the best alpha in the world. I will make you the happiest omega in the world I promise' this time it is Y/n who kisses him but in a deep way and Chrome returns with the same intensity. When they part Y/n says 'I am already the happiest omega in the world. Because I have you as my alpha and you want me.

More tears fall from Chrome's eyes, he lies down on the nest, pulls her to his chest hugging her tightly and kissing her forehead 'I know the first heat is mostly pain, so I will stay here with you, I will mark you and then it will hurt less and pass faster. Then we can wait for another heat or as many as you want to mate and all that stuff, I really don't care. I just want to see you happy' Y/n laughs kissing Chrome's neck and he blushes 'You are a perfect alpha Chrome'

She was happy, Gen was right, Chrome really was a great alpha.

Chrome bit Y/n's connection point and let her mark it to him. They both licked their wounds until they stopped bleeding.

Thus they fell into a comfortable silence and fell asleep. With marks proudly displayed on their skin. They were mates, alpha and omega, Chrome and Y/n. And that was the way it should be, that was the way it had always been. Now it was right.

tag list @:

@bubbles2416

[indigosabyss]

Randomly Generated One-Word Prompt: Environmental

In thirty seven hundred years, the planet had managed to repair the damage humanity had wrought onto it. Now, humans were alive and moving again. With every intention of ruining it all over again.

“And we can’t let that happen.” Senku insisted, “This is our new start, and all previous experience has taught us to prepare for this before it becomes a problem!”

“Says the person who reintroduced burning oil and gas for fuel.” Gen coughed.

“Something constructive, please, Mentalist.”

“Here’s some constructive advice.” Xeno announced, “You should carefully keep an eye on the amount of carbon emissions being produced by every person, so that we cull anyone who goes over the minimum baseline that we set!”

“Nope. Leaning too far into dictatorship territory.” Gen tutted, whacking Xeno with a newly created magazine, “Let’s go for something different, maybe?”

“We impose a carbon tax!” Ryusui decided.

“Who’s earning an income on this goddamn planet?” Senku asked, “You shot yourself in the foot on that with this vaguely socialist economic model you’re running.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have let a nineteen-year-old who’s never stepped into an economics class in his life create the new world’s money system.” The captain crossed his arms, refusing to take any accountability.

“All of you stop fussing over Ryusui and focus on the issue: what do we do about the environment?” Ukyo asked, steering them back on track.

“What’s going to happen to the environment if we… keep burning oil?” Chrome asked, brows furrowed.

“Carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere will rise and rise, taking the temperature drastically up with it, melting the icecaps, and drowning all of us.” Xeno explained, picking at his nails, “In approximately a hundred years. But since I was in the position of having to harangue idiots in politics for environmental reforms, I say we nip the problem in the bud and start off this new world with the goal to kill anyone who wants to put humanity’s wellbeing over a couple dollars.”

“Oh, great, now we can add eco-terrorism to your list of crimes.” Gen nodded, writing it down.

“Wait, that can happen?!” Chrome asked, “Dude, that’s bad! Like, bad-bad! We gotta stop this!”

“Chill, it’ll take a billion years before that becomes an issue.” Senku assured him.

“Even at my most optimistic, I’d say it would take an inelegant twelve hundred years for things to reach critical mass again. Unless we employ my careful monitoring system where only the processes most useful to scientific progress are allowed to burn massive amounts of fuel-”

[whiskeynwriting]

Characters are alphabetized, and those with more than two one-shots will have a separate masterlist link under their name.

◆

One-Shots Masterlist (pt. 1)

| Daddy Whiskey | Dave York | Dieter Bravo | Din Djarin | Ezra | Frankie Morales | Javi Gutierrez |

◆

One-Shots Masterlist (pt. 2)

| Javier Peña | Joel Miller | Marcus Moreno | Marcus Pike | Max Phillips | Maxwell Lord | Nico | Oberyn Martell | Pero Tovar |

◆

Javier Peña

(Narcos)

◆

Joel Miller

(The Last of Us)

◆

Marcus Moreno

(We Can Be Heroes)

Gentle with You (*)

Marcus wakes you up by pleasuring your body and mind.

Needy for Me (*)

Marcus finds solace between your legs when you’re too sore from his earlier love. 

◆

Marcus Pike

(The Mentalist)

Darker than Expected

Marcus sees you on your knees after he accidentally injures himself.

◆

Max Phillips

(Bloodsucking Bastards)

Pretty Little Mouth (*)

Max enjoys your talented mouth.

To Taste You (*)

Max indulges in your taste and smell during your time of the month.

◆

Maxwell Lord

(Wonder Woman 1984

◆

Nico

(House Comes with a Bird)

◆

Oberyn Martell

(Game of Thrones)

◆

Pero Tovar

(The Great Wall)

[morallyinept]

Shoot: Orange Coast Magazine, April 28th 2014 Online (Originally appeared in May 1st 2014 Published Issue)

Photographer: Kyle Monk

Interviewer: Pat H Broeske

Grooming: Unconfirmed

Full interview, behind the scenes, outtakes & shoot photographs below. 👇🏻

Jett's Pedro's Shoots Masterlist

• Original images used in the magazine

• Full interview

The Viper Prince

Orange County school of the arts alumnus Pedro Pascal, auditioned for an uncompromising role on ‘Game of Thrones.’ He got the part. Now will he survive?

Movie outings were a family ritual when young Pedro Pascal lived in Newport Beach. So it was no surprise when the teenage Pascal made “a seamless transition from ‘I want to be Indiana Jones’ to ‘I want to play Indiana Jones.’ ”

His latest transition was equally seamless. The veteran stage and TV actor already was an avid fan of 'Game of Thrones' when he got an audition for the hugely successful HBO medieval fantasy series. Pascal snared the role of Prince Oberyn Martell, aka the Red Viper, debuting last month amid great secrecy and anticipation.

It’s one more sign that the 39-year-old Pascal is much in demand. He recently portrayed an FBI internal-affairs officer on USA Network’s 'Graceland,' now is shooting episodes of CBS’ 'The Mentalist', and is co-starring in the film 'Bloodsucking Bastards'. 

As for 'Thrones,' which he shot last summer in Northern Ireland and Croatia, he’s proving to be a smooth scene-stealer - and not just because his character is an equal-opportunity lover (bedding men and women). What’s ahead for Oberyn? He quips: “An HBO SWAT team will come down on me if I say too much.”

Oberyn Martell is from the land of Dorne. And you?

I was born in Santiago, Chile. But my family left when I was 9 months old. We were given political asylum in Denmark. It was the mid-’70s and my parents were young and liberal. It was a dangerous time, and they were lucky they got out with their lives.

How old were you when you moved to Orange County?

I was 11. I went to middle school in Corona del Mar and to high school in Los Alamitos - so I could attend the Orange County School of the Arts.

You also trained in New York.

Yes, and I lived the typical struggling actor’s life there. I came back to L.A. after attending the Tisch School of the Arts at NYU. But mostly I’ve lived in New York.

You’ve done some name changing as an actor. You were Pedro Balmaceda in early TV and stage credits. And, briefly, Alexander Pascal.

Balmaceda is my father’s last name; Pascal is my mom’s last name. After she passed, I took her name. When I started out, I was struggling with not necessarily fitting into what a “Pedro” might look like to some casting directors. There wasn’t the familiarity with the vastness of Latino culture that we now have. But, my name is Pedro. And whether it was going to limit me or give me opportunities, it was something that I had to risk. It was my name. 

You’ve done a lot of episodic TV work: 'Buffy,' 'The Good Wife,' 'C.S.I.,' 'Red Widow.' Do you play a certain type?

I can’t say that I have too identifiable a type. Most times I’m glad I don’t, because I get to play very different characters. There wasn’t anything charming about the lawyer on 'The Good Wife.' He was a pretty sleazy guy, but he was also suited and very clean-cut. I’ve been a military commander in Colombia, a lawyer for the state’s attorney office, and on 'Homeland,' I was majority counsel for the Senate.

And you’re a vampire.

Yes, in 'Bloodsucking Bastards', which is a very broad, gory comedy - sort of 'The Office' meets 'Fright Night'. It’s about corporate office drones taken over by vampires. I’m the corporate takeover guy - and the head vampire.

Do you get to have fangs?

I get to do it all, from wearing fangs to full-on horror. I’m only getting my feet wet in film. I’ve done little parts here and there. This is my first major film role.

'Game of Thrones' is also major. How was the audition process?

They cast out of London. I was in California at the time, and was asked to put myself on tape. A friend of mine hand-held my iPhone while he read the scenes with me. The audition was seen by the show creators, David Benioff and Dan [D.B.] Weiss, who sent this really articulate email asking if I would be willing to record it again with an acting adjustment.

I decided to take the process a bit more seriously at that point and paid somebody to do the audition with proper lighting and with proper sound. [He laughs.] A few weeks after my first audition I found myself in Ireland, shaking hands with the creators of the show and two executives from HBO. I thought they’d brought me over for another audition. Even after a costume fitting and a stunt rehearsal, I still hadn’t understood fully that the part was mine. When the trip was over, I called my agent: “Did I get the part?”

You were quoted as saying Oberyn is a lover and a fighter.

It has more to do with the way he lives his life. He’s all passion. Whatever he feels, he does. He’s uncompromising and he doesn’t care what consequences he may face because of his actions.

The show is famous for its nudity among other things. In the episodes we’ve seen, you’re bare-chested. Are you gonna show even more skin?

The great thing about the character is you can never know what to expect because he’s a man who does what he wants, when he wants. So in one moment, he can start a fight with you, or ask you to go to bed with him, offer you some wine, or smash a fresh bottle against a wall. He flips on a dime. So whether or not we see more skin or blood is totally up for grabs. 

You’ve said your character has a “noble agenda,” seeking revenge for his sister’s death. But in Episode 3, he’s offered the chance to be an advisor to the king, who represents the enemy. How do you explain that?

I think for Oberyn Martell, to get as close to his enemies as possible is nothing but advantageous. But the seduction of power, for anyone, is inevitably dangerous, no matter where a person’s “integrity” exists at the start. That’s the thrilling aspect of the show that keeps everyone on their toes. Because as fantastical as the world is, the characters are all written as human beings, flaws and all.

Will your character return in Season 5?

Oh, I can’t tell you that.

Any plans to visit Europe this summer?

You’re looking for spoilers.

School Days

Pedro Pascal‘s mother helped him apply to the Orange County School of the Arts He auditioned, and made the cut.

Getting There

“My family lived in Newport Beach so I got an interdistrict transfer [to attend the school, which then was in Los Alamitos]. There was a lot of carpooling, a lot of different kids coming from different districts. I remember there was this drop-off point in the parking lot of South Coast Plaza. And I would sit with my parents and wait to be picked up. Once I got my driver’s license, they were so relieved.”

Life at OCSA

“When I was there, the school did not have an independent campus. They had trailers on the grounds of Los Alamitos High and had this abandoned middle school that was close enough to walk to. It was all very makeshift and innocent at the very beginning, which is kind of cool,” says the 1993 graduate, who visited the Santa Ana campus last fall to do an alumni master’s program. “I was so floored by the new facilities - and by the students.”

Favorite Place in O.C.?

“The beach at Little Corona. It’s so tiny, and the tide pools are so beautiful.”

Jett's Pedro's Shoots Masterlist

[can-i-get-a-yippee]

911 has always included jokes in serious episodes? like 'why would they put it in an episode like this' because it's an adult show with drama and comedy. the conversation they were having isn't even that serious of one. they're vaguely describing their bad father figures and buck jokes about them having daddy issues and tommy jokes back that he hopes he does. sorry gay guys aren't puritanical play things that only holds hands and have deep conversations about their traumatic pasts but are actually fully developed people who can make sex jokes and talk about their issues in a light hearted way

So my guy, you’re projecting a point that I didn’t make. I never said the characters couldn’t make sex jokes or talk about their trauma in a light hearted way. I just didn’t like the way it was done bc it felt like a MASSIVE tonal shift from the rest of the episode.

From a narrative standpoint, I wish they had stuck to the serious tone of the episode. Like, in shows like Castle, The Mentalist, Bones, and Monk, those are all ADULT shows with drama and comedy but normally in a serious episode that deals with traumas of characters, they focus on cultivating a serious tone. Even within 911, episodes where Buck is in a coma or when Eddie gets shot, they tend to lean into the serious tone and limit the comedic scenes bc it’s not a great tonal shift for the audience to go from serious to hehe silly goofy immediately back to serious.

Also, my issues with the narrative and the writing do not reflect how I feel about real life people bc these people are FICTIONAL.

Hope this helps :)